ã€ŠThe Land of Broken Roadsã€‹


 Ancient Things - Chapter 1

    He knew something had changed before he even realized he was waking up. The air was flat and heavy now, fragrant with the scent of earth and humidity. It pressed on him like a blanket, so thick it felt like breathing took effort.

    His arms and legs twitched but there was nowhere for them to go. Something had happened and he was half-buried, like an old stone sinking into the dirt.

    He had been doing something important. He could feel that, feel the pressure of old urgency in his heart. But whatever it was seemed too distant to remember, already fading away. Still, he couldn¡¯t just lie here forever.

    His eyes didn¡¯t obey when he tried to open them. He tried again, but they were sticking to his eyeballs. Dry, as if they¡¯d been closed for far too long. One eye cracked open, just a bit, and with a bit of effort his eyelid peeled its way upward until he could see. Above him was nothing but indistinct, sullen greens. Smudges with no definition. Why could he not see clearly? How long had he been laying here?

    He blinked and blinked again and tried to sit up. The dirt gripped him, holding him down with suction force. It clung to his skin, crumbling away as one arm came free, then the other.

    He rubbed his eyes with his hands and wiped away something too thick to be tears. Some kind of slime. Revulsion gave him a burst of energy and he tore himself from the ground, trying desperately to wipe whatever it was off his face and hands.

    He could see now and he instantly knew this was not a place he recognized. Nothing at all like where he¡¯d just been, which was¡­ he couldn¡¯t remember. But now, all around him in every direction were ferns, tall as his waist. They grew so thick together they left no space between them. The land was flat as far as he could see, nothing but pillars of pale, sullen gray and an ocean of dark green ferns.

    No, those were not pillars. His eyes followed one up until it met the dark canopy overhead, where he saw great branches. Not pillars. Trees. Trees taller than reason, hundreds of paces apart. Impossibly tall. Too wide, far too tall. Nothing could be that large. His head swam just looking at them, just trying to comprehend their enormity.

    His eyes drifted back downward and he saw clear slime all around him in a thin puddle a foot or two wide, like he had fallen and burst open and that was his insides. It coated him in a layer two inches thick, except where he¡¯d already wiped it off.

    Wiping the clinging slime from his body and flinging it away, he saw he had nothing on. That wasn¡¯t right either¡ªthere should be something he had on. Clothing. The slime was wrong. He should have clothing. Although the word was in his mind, when he tried to think what clothing looked like, or even what it was, nothing came to him. Nothing but blackest amnesia.

    Nothing about who he was, or where he was from, or why he was here. He knew the words; any word he wished to remember came to him instantly. But no pictures came with them, nothing that could tell him what the words truly signified.

    Home. A place a person lived. And what did it look like? What sort of place was it? Nothing.

    Food. Cart. Street. Cat. Robe. Hand. Hand he knew, since he¡¯d seen his. The only mental image he had of hands, though, were the brief glances he¡¯d given them. Face? Nothing. He hadn¡¯t seen it. He was human and didn¡¯t even know what a human looked like, or what it meant to be one.

    Wiping more clumps of slime from his thighs, he realized that his body was wrong. It was only a feeling, not any sort of reliable knowledge, but it wasn¡¯t the body he expected. It was hairless from neck to toes, and that wasn¡¯t right. Was it? He was smooth and a bit pale and the proportions seemed off.

    A child. He was a child, a little human still growing. Human progeny, not an adult like he was supposed to be. A grown-up. Right? What did that mean, exactly? He could feel the knowledge just on the edge of his mind, barely out of reach. The harder he struggled to grab it, the farther it slipped away.

    He took several deep breaths, trying to force his mind to organize and settle by sheer willpower.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he said aloud. The sound of his voice unnerved him. It shouldn¡¯t be so high. ¡°Alright, where am I?¡±

    Saying it helped him focus. His mind grew a bit clearer.

    ¡°I¡¯m a child. I¡¯m in a place I don¡¯t recognize,¡± he said. What else? ¡°I¡¯ve lost my memory.¡±

    The slime on the ground was already evaporating, leaving clean soil as it dried up and disappeared. He watched it go. It evaporated out of his hair as well, unsticking it from his neck and forehead. Soon his skin was completely dry.

    ¡°Lost my memory, and probably other things.¡±

    He turned in a slow circle, looking carefully into the distance for any sign of¡­ of anything.

    The forest was stunning, truly. Far, far above, the sky was all green, patterns of light and dark in the rich canopy of leaves. It was too high up for him to see what shape they were, but they caught every spare ray of light and let nothing reach the ground. Not a single sun ray anywhere. Just the dappled greens concealing the entirety of the sky. What was up there? What could live among such impossible heights?

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    And below the green sky, a vast emptiness of nothing but pale gray tree trunks. A space larger than his mind could take in. And his mind tried¡ªthe sights above and below made him think he should be able to comprehend the space in between, to know and quantify it, but he couldn¡¯t. It made him feel like nothing more than a speck.

    Here on the ground, dark green ferns covered everything, bumpy as roiling ocean water at night. He paused, wondering what the ocean looked like, and how he knew that word. He had no idea, but he knew the ferns looked like one.

    But his thoughts quickly fled each time he simply looked around. The beauty of it all nearly overpowered him. Such majesty, such perfect serenity! He dare not close his eyes and miss something. He had to look, to stare at the ferns and trees and far horizons fading in shadow until he understood.

    He had to smell the heavy air, thick with humidity and wet dirt. To feel the earth beneath his toes, dirty and black. He had to take it all in.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be here. I don¡¯t recognize this place,¡± he said. ¡°Something went wrong, and I don¡¯t know what it was.¡± He tried to remind himself that there was something else, something more important than solemn beauty, but his voice didn¡¯t travel very far. It sank into the ferns and was lost before it could intrude on the eternal silence.

    The worry edging in at the periphery of his mind faded into the majestic silence of the forest. Nothing moved, not even a whisper. The forest reposed in grandeur, inviolable. Sacred. He listened for a moment, hearing the blood pumping in his ears before he heard anything else. It was so quiet.

    Off in the distance, a bird cawed. He turned to look but couldn¡¯t see it. Would he even be able to spot it, in such a huge space? What did a bird look like?

    Either way, the sound relieved him at first, but that faded into subtle dread. The forest grew a shade darker. Potentially sinister. He was alone and recognized nothing, but there were living things out there, things he didn¡¯t know about.

    ¡°I¡¯m alone. Alone, alone¡­¡± he said, tasting the word. Indeed, were there other people at all? He thought about that for a moment. There should be. He didn¡¯t know who they were, but some part of him remembered the feeling of other people around, in contrast to their stark absence now.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he said aloud again, needing to hear something. ¡°Alright, what do I know? I¡¯m a child and that means I¡¯m weak. Children should be protected, but there¡¯s no one here so I¡¯ll have to do it myself. I need food and water.¡±

    He knew the words ¡®eating and drinking¡¯. But the more he tried to call up memories of what food was, what it looked like, how it tasted, the less he knew about it. He let go of the thought, afraid he would chase it away forever.

    He needed to get moving. He stuck his foot out, then gulped at the fear that he might have forgotten how to walk. No, no, he didn¡¯t forget. Don¡¯t think, just go.

    He walked forward, relaxing as it came naturally. Ferns brushed against his skin as he pushed his way through the still, heavy air. Moving let him smell the humidity, the dark scent of decaying plant life, and richness of the soil below him.

    ¡°Okay, I can do this. I need food and water and shelter. I¡¯ll figure out what those are when I see them, but I need them.¡±

    Walking felt good. His body gathered energy as he went, waking up even more. He felt so alive, so much more than he remembered! Oh, what did he remember? That thought slipped away before he could look at it.

    Oh well. He grinned and ran, the movement coming as natural as breathing. He sprinted as fast as he could through the ferns, dodging this way and that. The soft, black dirt was perfect for running on. Not a rock or stick to be found, nothing sharp to step on.

    He didn¡¯t have so much energy before, so much life and spark. He found himself overjoyed to be so mobile, so free. He laughed and ran all the way around a tree trunk. It left him tired by the end, since he had to go all the way around the roots, too, and they were taller than he was, even fifty paces out from the trunk.

    ¡°Hey!¡± he shouted up the tree trunk. ¡°Hey, is anybody up there?¡±

    Of course there wasn¡¯t, but it felt good to be moving and making noise. No wonder children loved playing! He shouted again, whooping loudly and listening for faint echoes from the tree trunks. The ferns swallowed most of the sound, but not all. His own voice returned to him each time.

    He screamed as loud as he could, then listened to see how many echoes he could count. One, two, three four, five¡­?

    A voice came back to him that wasn¡¯t his. His blood froze. What was that, that weird yell? How far away? He held his breath and listened.

    It came again. ¡°Where!¡± it said. The voice was high like his, but inhuman, a growl made of ten squeaks at different pitches. ¡°Where!¡±

    His eyes raced desperately over the greenery to find the source. It was down here with him, somewhere close enough to hear. Where was¡ª

    He spotted movement and shot down beneath the ferns. It was coming his way. What had he seen? A dirty green head, long pointy green ears. Something his height, but thicker and dangerous. Gods in Glory, what was that?

    ¡°Where!¡± it called again. ¡°Good boy. Come out!¡±

    The voice drove spikes into his mind. Terror greater than he could resist held him. He couldn¡¯t move. He could only barely breathe.

    ¡°Come out! Good boy!¡±

    Whatever it was, it was dangerous. He heard eager malice in its crackling, squeaky voice.

    It was coming his direction. It might find him. What should he do?

    ¡°Meat! You want? You want? Good boy! Come out!¡±

    Should he fight? No, his arms lacked muscle. Every bit of him was thin and soft. Not even his feet had toughened skin on them. I was strong once, he thought, before that crumb of memory slipped away from him. Maybe he could run? How fast was that thing?

    The creature quit yelling. He listened with choking dread as it swished through the ferns, looking for him.

    This was it. It was too close. He¡¯d waited too long.

    He stood to get a look and nearly fell backward in terror. A revolting green man-shaped thing with a pointed, inhuman face sniffed the air only five paces away. It saw him and fixed its shrunken red eyes on him with predatory exultation. It was only slightly shorter than he was, but thick and corded with muscle. Knotted fingers and toes ended in crumbling yellow claws and long ears jutted out from its head and drooped at the end.

    It smacked a long, heavy bone it carried into the dirt so hard the sound shook his lungs.

    ¡°Good boy,¡± it said, face curling into a wide grin of sharp, rotting, black and yellow teeth.

    He was dead. His body moved before his mind did. He ran with all the strength he possessed. The monstrous little green man laughed and gave chase.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 2

    He sprinted as hard as he could. His body sparked with terror from toes to hair and he ran wildly, desperately, holding nothing back.

    The green-skinned monster was slightly slower, but only slightly. Fear of its teeth kept him running after his legs lost their strength and felt heavy, long after every part of him burned from exertion his body had never known. His feet pounded the soft dirt, making a strange rhythm with the creature¡¯s snarls and panting.

    How far ahead was he? Did he dare look back? No, he didn¡¯t. His mind was clearing up a little now that the adrenaline was wearing off, but it was still back there, chasing him. The way it thrashed the ferns as it ran told him all he needed to know.

    Run. There was no choice. Run or die. Run or die. Run or die. It turned into a jogging chant, repeating in his mind. Right left right, run or die, right left right¡ª

    Something hit the back of his shoulder and knocked him forward. Pain spread slowly but deep. For a moment he was sure a bone was broken but he kept his feet under him. It hurt to swing his arm, but the joint still worked. Thank Grace.

    He got a bit of distance from the green monster-man and glanced back to see it picking up its bone club.

    Hope put a spark into his tired, hollow legs and kept them going. He glanced back every three or four paces, watching for another toss.

    It paid off. The green monster threw the club again and he turned sharply to avoid it. The club flew harmlessly into the ferns, hopefully lost forever.

    He kept running in the new direction and picked up his pace when he spotted a chance. Racing toward a tree, he leaped up and climbed over an enormous root, about halfway out where it was only a little taller than he was. He scraped his front from collar to shins on the flat gray bark, but he made it over faster than he expected.

    There was no time to think about how much it stung. The monster gave a frustrated squeal as it tried to follow him over the root, its shorter legs and greater weight slowing it down.

    The second root was more intimidating than the first, but scrapes were better than bites. Scrapes wouldn¡¯t kill him. He only got high enough to barely scramble over, arms and legs slapping desperately on the wood.

    He tumbled over the other side head-first and rolled down into the ferns. From there, he made his way out into the open green expanse, keeping as low as he could while still moving quickly. He did his best to dodge between the plants, but it wasn¡¯t perfect.

    It was good enough. The green monster¡¯s rage echoed off the world-sized trees as it thrashed through the ferns and screamed. He couldn¡¯t do anything about his footprints, but it would take time to follow them and that creature didn¡¯t sound very patient.

    Cold, unrelenting fear kept him going long after his body wanted to stop, long after the creature¡¯s howls faded in the distance and ceased. But his new body could only handle so much, and when he collapsed, his arms were too weak to stop him from face-planting in the dirt.

    Only a moment later, he found himself curled into a ball and crying softly. He was a child now and there was more emotion in him than he had any power to control. It was an odd feeling¡ªtightness in his chest and face, a lump in his throat, burning in his eyes.

    There was nothing he could do to stop it. He cried quietly, slowly, until his emotions were as empty as his arms and legs. After that, he lay for a while and rested, contemplative and miserable.

    ¡°I hate this,¡± he whispered into the dirt. He had no word for the creature, which made him think he¡¯d never seen one before. The unpleasant shade of its green skin didn¡¯t fit with the gentle ferns and eternal trees. It seemed as foreign to the forest as he was. It was some kind of horrible, misshapen man, and it knew a few words, which meant it was smart enough to be dangerous. Plenty dangerous.

    ¡°I really, really hate this,¡± he whispered again. His mind refused to relax and give him peace. If there was one monster, were there more? And what else was out there? What was it doing here? Did it appear when he did?

    In fact, had he even existed before today? Some words strutted through his mind, but he couldn¡¯t make sense of them. Resurrection, spontaneous generation, temporal displacement¡­

    He had no idea what the words meant, probably because he was thinking about it. He had to let a word come by itself or it would escape without being understood.

    ¡°My name,¡± he whispered. ¡°What¡¯s my name?¡±

    With nothing better to do than rest until he got his sparks back, he lay there awhile and tried to remember. If he had a name, that meant he was real and something about him had existed before. If not, then maybe he came from nowhere. Maybe he was just a little thing that would come and go, unnoticed and immediately forgotten. Maybe he would stop existing soon. Vanish away.

    But no name came to him, and the longer he waited, the more it seemed like everything he had been or known before was gone forever.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he whispered. ¡°If I lost something, then this isn¡¯t the start. And it won¡¯t be the end.¡± That one thought comforted him.

    It was hunger that finally made him sit up and very, very carefully poke his head up to see if the disgusting monster was anywhere nearby. Only after making absolutely certain that no sound or motion disturbed the stillness of the endless forest did he rise to his feet.

    Way too much of him was scraped and raw and sore. He bled slightly from ten different places. He wiped the blood away and felt again the soreness in his shoulder and the deep bruise the monster¡¯s club had given him. All he could do about any of those little injuries was ignore them, though, so he did.

    He looked around and started wondering what he was supposed to eat.

    Something soft. Something that smelled good and tasted good. Not dirt. Not hard like a tree. Something else. A fern?

    He pulled a few of the little green leaves from a frond and chewed them, but they didn¡¯t taste like something he should eat. He pulled the fern this way and that, inspecting inside its fronds and under its leaves, wondering if there was something else. Some other part.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Baby ferns. There were little ones growing up from the ground, soft and fuzzy with a different color, pale green instead of dark. He broke one off, about the length of his hand and a big spiral on the end the size of a curled finger.

    He held it up to his nose. It just smelled dark and green, but his stomach twitched. He popped it in his mouth and chewed the whole thing, pleased to find that it was tender and pleasant, if a bit grassy. He grabbed another, and another. He ate his fill, but not so much he felt too full. What was the rush? These baby ferns were everywhere. He¡¯d never run out.

    Now he just needed something to wash it down. He stood and looked around again and realized with a sinking feeling that there was nothing, anywhere, that looked like a drink. He was getting thirsty, especially after running so far. His legs and arms still felt weak and his throat and mouth were drying out.

    He took a few steps in no particular direction, trying to think of where he could find a drink, or exactly what that might look like. Something flat and shiny and wet. A big place of¡­ a place on the ground made of something to drink. There would be no ferns there. It would be open space, and the water would probably be too nasty and green with algae and rot to drink.

    Water! That was it. He needed water. His mind seized on the word, one so evocative he could almost picture what it signified. He hurried over to a tree and walked the long way up a root.

    The roots were so huge that when he reached the trunk, he was several times his height above the ground. He could see much farther from up here, but there was nothing more to see. No movement, no breaks in the expanse of ferns. No hills or buildings in the distance where the horizon faded in pale mist and shadows.

    What was a building? He shuddered and turned away from the thought, lest he lose the word and never get it back. That was one he wanted to keep. It was an important word, the word for civilization. The works of mankind.

    Well, no reason to stand here until he was spotted. He moved back down the root to where it was safe, then jumped down and rolled in the dirt to break his fall. By Grace, he was getting absolutely caked in black mud.

    A curious thought struck him. Sometimes, water was in the ground. Was that right? Could he dig and find some?

    He knelt and started pulling away big clumps of damp, black dirt with both hands. Stirring it up like this brought the smell out, rich and bold. Would that make it harder to smell him, he wondered?

    The rich earth revealed tiny beetles and worms, ants smaller than his fingernail and too fast to catch, all trying to get away from him. But no water. By the time the hole got deep enough he had to bend forward and reach in to pull out more, he was starting to feel foolish. There was nothing down here but more dirt.

    He saw something wriggling its way out into to the hole, about a hand¡¯s length below ground level. A grub, white with yellow streaks and black spots. And big, too, as long as his finger and twice as thick. It squirmed and wiggled all its stumpy little legs when he picked it up and brushed the dirt off.

    Without thinking, he popped it in his mouth and chewed. It took two or three chomps before it quit wiggling on his tongue. The outside was a little tough, but the inside was all liquid. It tasted a little like nuts and pepper, which made him wonder what those things were, and also faintly sweet.

    Digging a bit more found him two more grubs, and he ate them immediately. Their juices soothed his thirst, and it was nice to have something a bit more chewy than the baby ferns.

    That was two things he could eat, then. Baby ferns and grubs, with maybe enough liquid not to be so thirsty. Now he just needed a safe place to sleep and hide, somewhere he could rest without wondering when another green monster was about to jump out at him. And water. He probably still needed water.

    Standing up, he turned around and found the muzzle of a giant dog two inches from his nose. It towered over him, leaning down for a sniff.

    He tried to scream and only managed to whimper as he fell backward and collapsed on the ground. The dog was enormous. Just its legs were taller than he was, with a muzzle big enough to take his head off easy as a grub. Its fluffy gray fur and calm demeanor did nothing to lessen the sense of incredible strength it radiated, or the deep, instinctual terror it filled him with.

    He froze, both unable and unwilling to move. Somehow he knew that if he ran, the beast would chase and rip him apart. What could he do? Just try not to look like food, or a toy. Helplessness and despair nearly won inside him and he only held himself together by a fingernail.

    The giant dog leaned down again to sniff him where he¡¯d collapsed on the ground. Its hot breath rushed over him, the sound of its lungs cavernous and deep.

    Its wet nose touched his forehead. He squeaked in terror and lost a squirt of urine. The dog smelled that, too.

    He couldn¡¯t meet its gaze. He dare not. This was too much. This was all too much.

    -What are you?- asked a voice in his mind.

    He was so startled he forgot to stay afraid. He looked up at the giant dog.

    -You are not a goblin,- said the voice. The dog sniffed him again, then walked around him in a circle. -What are you?-

    He felt very, very small, sitting on the ground as the giant beast stepped behind his back.

    When it circled back around and stood in front of him again, all he could think of was the power of its claws, digging into the dirt too close to his toes.

    ¡°I¡¯m a boy!¡± he blurted out.

    The dog gave him a quizzical look, head tilted. -Can you only bark?- asked the voice in his mind.

    No, no, no, this was dangerous. He had to make it happy. He had to keep trying. He had to do something.

    He stood, trembling from head to toe, and gingerly reached up to pat the dog on the fur above its nose. He rubbed back and forth, trying to pet it. Slowly, softly at first, and the dog didn¡¯t bite his arm off.

    -What are you doing? Why can¡¯t you talk?-

    ¡°I can,¡± he said. It wasn¡¯t working. He was going to die.

    -You are a little baby, aren¡¯t you? I am a month old, so I am older than you. Think with the loud part where I can see it.-

    Focusing all his mental energy, he thought as loud as he could. ¡°Hello?¡±

    The dog jerked back a bit. -You are a noisy little thing, aren¡¯t you?-

    He tried again, trying to be clear and just use the surface thoughts, the part of his mind that worked in words. ¡°Hello?¡±

    -You said that already. So what are you?-

    ¡°I¡¯m a human.¡±

    -Oh. I¡¯ve never seen one before. Mother said humans are wrapped in metal, but you aren¡¯t.-

    ¡°No, I¡¯m just a child. I think something happened to me, but I¡ª¡°

    -Mother said I should not bother humans. She said you are pests.-

    ¡°I¡¯m not a pest. What are you? I didn¡¯t know dogs got so big.¡±

    -I am not a dog. I am a wolf pup.- The mental words came with an image of blood and claws, snarling teeth and burning yellow eyes. Terrifying, unrelenting ferocity. Ferocity before which there could be no compromise. -I will be big and strong someday, like Mother. But right now, I am little and young, like you. But I think Mother will scold me if she finds out I talked to a human. Good bye, little human.-

    ¡°Good bye, little wolf,¡± he thought. ¡°Wait, what¡¯s your name?¡±

    -I don¡¯t have one. I don¡¯t need it.-

    ¡°How about if I call you¡­¡± He panicked, suddenly unable to come up with anything. He knew words; he should know some good names. But he didn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t think of any, even to get an idea what one sounded like. He blurted out, ¡°Socks. Because your front paws are white, so it looks like you have socks on¡­¡±

    No sooner had he sent the thought than he realized how that sounded. It felt all wrong. This was not an animal you called Socks. It was a terrifying and majestic thing not a¡­ not a ¡®Socks¡¯. He couldn¡¯t remember what socks were, anyway. Foot clothing?

    -Okay. You will call me Socks. And I will call you Dirt, because you are all dirty. But you won¡¯t call me anything because I need to go back to Mother now and I won¡¯t come back. Goodbye, Dirt.-

    ¡°Goodbye, Socks,¡± thought Dirt.

    The wolf pup turned and slipped away in the ferns, making no sound and hardly even disturbing the fronds as he raced off into the distance. Socks was so tall Dirt might be able to walk under him without ducking, but he moved silently. A true hunter.

    Dirt watched Socks until he vanished into the distance.

    All was quiet again. Perfectly still. Eternal. Limitless open spaces broken only by tree trunks of gray, thick and tall as the pillars that held up the heavens. Green above and below, and him in the middle¡ªtiny, naked, and dirty, feeling helplessly alone.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 3

    He wandered aimlessly after that.

    Evening came and he had no power to resist how tired he was. His body needed sleep. Before the light had fully faded into darkness, he dug out a spot under a massive root and lined it with ferns to make himself a little nest. He uprooted a few more to cover himself with and lay down with an eagerness for rest that pulled him with a near-physical force into his bed.

    He saw nothing of the night. He slept straight through, and judging from how he woke up in the exact same position, he¡¯d hardly even moved during the night.

    When the dim light of morning woke him, heavy fog covered everything behind a veil of gray. He couldn¡¯t see more than ten paces.

    It was cold, that was the first thing. His hair was damp with dew, as well as a few other spots that hadn¡¯t been covered by the ferns. Even the slightest movement shook heavy drops of dew off the ferns and onto his skin. Each drip left a wet, icy line as it slipped down into the dirt.

    Thirst. That was the second thing. His mouth was so dry he could hardly open it.

    Dirt rose to his feet and tried to brush off some of the cold dew with his hands, but it didn¡¯t do much good. It mostly just created mud that stung in all his scrapes. Oh well. He spent the rest of the morning eagerly licking palm fronds or shaking drops of water into his mouth. Just a little at a time, hardly enough to wet his tongue, but it added up. Very slowly, but it added up. The water tasted like the bitterness of an inedible leaf, but it was water.

    As morning progressed, the fog slowly lifted foot by foot and faded away, leaving the air clear and musty and heavy, like he was used to. The forest revealed its eternal majesty, perfectly unchanged from the day before.

    He caught sight of his first bird, gliding down slowly from greater heights. It was so tiny against the dappled canopy above that he wondered if there weren¡¯t more that he simply had failed to spot. Just a speck of light and shadow, but he watched with great interest as it gently floated down to cross the impossible distance to the ground.

    It must be a strong little thing, to be able to fly back up again. Assuming it ever would? Maybe it knew places to rest halfway up, ones that he couldn¡¯t see from down here. From down here, the tree trunks looked too straight and perfect from roots to branches.

    He wondered if he could find the bird and catch it? What would he do if he did? No, unless one landed right near him, there was no chance. The ferns could hide ten thousand birds and he¡¯d never see one.

    Dirt decided he may as well make something of the rest of the morning, but he didn¡¯t exactly have a long list of urgent tasks. He dug up some grubs and ate a couple handfuls of baby ferns, then set out to find somewhere better to sleep. He didn¡¯t want to wake up wet and cold every single morning for the rest of his life, after all. He needed a place that would be safe and dry. What exactly that might be, he had no idea. And no matter which direction he looked, the forest was flawless and infinite as a god¡¯s dream.

    He picked a direction and walked for a while, choosing a random tree in the distance and making his way toward it. He had to stop and rest and eat some grubs and ferns halfway there. It was farther than he thought because it was so large.

    All along the way, nothing stood out. He listened for monsters and tried to keep a good lookout for any motion, but there was nothing, and his mind kept sinking back into reverie. Once he reached the tree, it was no different from all the others.

    He ran up one of the roots, his bare feet slapping the flat bark the whole way up. The root was wide enough here that it hid how far up he was, but it was high enough he¡¯d probably die if he slid off.

    Leaning against the tree trunk to rest, he wondered: was he safer up here than down there? From here, he¡¯d see anything big enough to be a problem coming for quite a distance. But that also meant anything sneaking around down there could see him from just as far away. Unless he lay down?

    The tree trunk was more comfortable than he expected. It wasn¡¯t very interesting, though. He was getting bored. Antsy and restless, dissatisfied. It was better than being chased, though. Better to be bored than have a green monster coming after you.

    Still, boredom was affecting him more than he expected. It felt almost like physical pain. He should find something useful to do. He¡¯d come a long way and hadn¡¯t found a place to sleep that would be any different, so something else.

    He looked down at himself. The scrapes and scratches he¡¯d gotten yesterday were covered with dirt and grime from everything else he¡¯d done since then, hiding them completely. They didn¡¯t bother him unless he rubbed himself wrong, and the bruise on his shoulder from the bone club didn¡¯t hurt unless he pushed on it.

    Maybe he should try and get clean? No, it was no use. He¡¯d just get dirty again. His name was Dirt, after all. He realized he¡¯d started calling himself that in his own thoughts, so it was permanent now. Dirt, inside and out. It was a good name. The source of everything, the richness that held everything else up and gave it life. He almost felt guilty about ¡°Socks.¡±

    Maybe he should practice climbing over the roots without ripping all his skin off. That sounded fun, and besides, if he got chased again, he might be glad he got the practice. He jumped to his feet and ran down the root, as fast as he dared.

    Dirt started off where it was small enough to jump over easily and worked his way up. He experimented with various ideas, like using his hands to spring up or trying to roll over. He wished he¡¯d seen another human do it, even just once, but he hadn¡¯t, so he had to make it up.

    But it was something to do. He had a nagging feeling that all this movement and energy was unusual, that it was something new and exciting for him. He remembered yesterday, when he first woke up and everything seemed wrong; it didn¡¯t seem that way now. He knew in his mind that he might have been an adult before, but he no longer felt that way. Perhaps he was just settling in.

    After a while, he stopped and ate some more ferns. He dug around for grubs, but only found one and it wasn¡¯t quite enough to quench his growing thirst. The sweat made little paths of cleaner skin where it dripped off him, and he wondered if it was from the oppressively humid air or if he¡¯d just been working harder than he realized.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    A cold, wet nose sniffed his back. Dirt screamed and jumped forward, rolling and stumbling and unable to get up or even turn around and look what it was. He got a glimpse of huge white paws and knew it was Socks.

    Relief lasted only the half instant it took for him to notice Socks¡¯s black muzzle, which was now drenched red in blood. The beast¡¯s maw was only feet away, his teeth the size of Dirt¡¯s forearm. A single bite was all it would take. Dirt froze in perfect terror, unable to think.

    -Hello, Dirt. Little human.-

    Dirt couldn¡¯t gather enough of a coherent thought to reply over the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. Socks was too huge, too red in tooth and claw for him to face.

    -Mother said that if I wanted, I should come see you again before you die. She said you will die soon,- said Socks.

    Dirt¡¯s eyes filled with tears and his terror turned to despair. He tried as hard as he could to think, to focus and think loudly. It did not come easy with Socks leaning down to sniff him again, which filled Dirt¡¯s own nose with the stark, unpleasant scent of blood.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me. Please!¡±

    The wolf pup regarded him coolly, but Dirt got a sense of amusement from the animal, even if he couldn¡¯t quite place how.

    -I scared you, didn¡¯t I? I meant that Mother said you are like a baby bird with no nest. You will starve or something will eat you. But not me. You are all bone and no meat, and Mother said not to eat bones until I am older.-

    The wolf pup¡¯s mouth lolled open, placidly unthreatening. The animal¡¯s tongue was wider than Dirt¡¯s head.

    ¡°Oh,¡± thought Dirt. He should have known. If Socks wanted to kill and eat him, he¡¯d just do it. There would be no warning. ¡°Why are you covered in blood? Er, just your mouth.¡±

    -I found a goblin before I came here. Mother says we need to get rid of them any time we see one, because there will be many more and they are pests,- said Socks.

    The beast lifted up his head to look around, towering above him and causing him to step back instinctively. Dirt really could just walk right under the massive animal, he decided. The fluffy fur might brush against his head, but he wouldn¡¯t have to duck.

    The giant wolf pup meant him no harm, thank Grace. Dirt was fine. He was safer now than before, in fact. He stood up and the fear dripped away like dew, but not completely. Socks was simply too huge for him to be completely at ease.

    -Goblins don¡¯t taste good, but they are fun to chase. They always try to run.-

    ¡°What¡¯s a goblin?¡± thought Dirt.

    An image came to his mind of a tiny green humanoid with long ears and a long nose; a smelly, twisty, feisty thing. It took Dirt a moment to realize he was looking at the same sort of creature that had chased him yesterday. A goblin. An ugly word for an ugly creature.

    ¡°I saw one of those. It tried to eat me,¡± thought Dirt. Something about the admission made him feel ashamed, after seeing it how Socks saw it. Tiny, disgusting, and harmless.

    -What did it do? Did it fight you?-

    ¡°No, I ran away. It was lots stronger than I am. I didn¡¯t stand a chance.¡±

    -Oh. Well, you are very small. And weak. What are you doing over here? Why did you come to this place instead of where you were before?-

    ¡°I wanted somewhere better to sleep. It was cold this morning because I woke up soaking wet from the dew. But there¡¯s nothing anywhere, no matter where I look.¡±

    -Like what? What kind of place do you like to sleep in?-

    Dirt had to think about that for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. You said I was a baby and you were right. I was born yesterday. I¡¯ve only slept once. But I want to sleep somewhere inside, with something over me and all around, and somewhere I¡¯ll be safe from things that want to eat me at night. I thought I¡¯d know it when I saw it.¡±

    -You mean like a hole?-

    ¡°Well¡­ Yeah, I guess. Like a hole. I wanted somewhere less dirty, too, but a hole would be fine. I should have thought of that. I can probably dig it myself.¡±

    Socks leaned down and sniffed him again, and Dirt did his best not to let his sudden panic show on his face.

    -Why do you not want somewhere dirty? You are already dirty.-

    Dirt rubbed his forearm, making the drying black soil bunch up into little dry clumps and fall off. He thought about it for a moment. ¡°I guess it¡¯s fine.¡±

    -I will help you dig one, then. I like to dig and your little paws look useless. Mother said to find out if there are other humans besides you, but there aren¡¯t, are there? Or you would not be like this.-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if there are any other humans at all. I haven¡¯t seen any yet.¡±

    Socks didn¡¯t reply to that and Dirt decided against asking if the pup had seen any, since it sounded like he hadn¡¯t. Socks simply sniffed around, walking this way and that in the ferns.

    ¡°Oh, Socks, can we put it under a root, so I can find it again? It¡¯ll be easier to hide the entrance that way, too.¡±

    -Okay, but then it can¡¯t be very big, or the tree will get mad.-

    ¡°That¡¯s okay. It¡¯ll just be me in there.¡±

    Socks stepped toward a root and sniffed around, then chose a spot for no discernible reason and started digging under it. Black soil flew, a long continuous stream of it at least twenty paces long. Only moments later, the entire pup had disappeared underground, and still the earth came firing out so hard he didn¡¯t dare get close enough to look at the progress.

    It was over shockingly quickly. Socks backed out of the hole, then stretched to his full height and shook the soil off, flinging it hard enough to sting Dirt¡¯s bare skin.

    ¡°That was fast!¡± said Dirt.

    -I am mother¡¯s twelfth strongest. And I made it little for you, because you¡¯re little.-

    Socks started looking around, gazing at the distance with a bit of a spark in him. He looked like he was getting ready to leave.

    The thought scared Dirt. He would be alone all the rest of the day, and those hours stretched into eternities by himself. Dirt held his arms out and said, ¡°If you put your head down where I can reach, I¡¯ll scratch your ears to say thank you.¡±

    Socks turned his head to look, now curious.

    ¡°Come on, just sit down and rest your head right here in front of me. You¡¯ll like it. I¡¯ll scratch and pet you as long as you want.¡±

    The giant pup gingerly stepped closer, then sat down and let his head down to mash the ferns. Socks¡¯ head was bigger than Dirt, too big for Dirt to even reach all the way across, especially around the ears, but he got to work anyway.

    The pup¡¯s fur was as soft and fluffy as it looked and felt pleasant on his bare skin, but the beast¡¯s sheer size and the faint smell of predator kept him careful. He scratched and petted all over Socks¡¯ neck, face, and head, especially around the base of his ears.

    Socks squirmed the whole time like he wanted to turn it into a game, but he recognized Dirt was too small to play with like that. Even so, he leaned and rolled several times, giving just enough warning for Dirt to jump backward and avoid getting crushed, but that was the price of hitting all the right spots. Dirt rubbed and scratched until his fingers got sore, then kept going until his arms got tired and his shoulders burned.

    When his arms finally gave out, Socks stood up, his tongue lolling out. He leaped playfully back and forth a few times, head focused on Dirt. Dirt tried his best not to cower in terror, and instead reached out one more time to pat the pup¡¯s nose. Socks leaped out of the way before he could, and Dirt smiled. He should have seen that coming.

    Socks nuzzled him, knocking him right over. -You are too little for play, but getting scratched was pleasant. I should go now.-

    The pup turned and took a few steps, then lowered his front to stretch his long back. He said, -Sleep well in your little den tonight. Goodbye Dirt, little human.-

    ¡°Wait, will you come back again?¡± asked Dirt, trying not to sound as desperate as he was starting to feel.

    -Maybe.- Then he left.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 4

    Dirt woke in the deep of night, when all was still and the darkness so complete he couldn¡¯t tell if his eyes were open or closed. There was a thrum, a subtle vibration that swelled and faded in an even pattern. It was so quiet he wasn¡¯t sure if he heard or felt it. But it was there, and it had encroached on his dreams and drawn him back to his body.

    He lay for a while just listening, trying to determine what it was. Gentle waves of vibration passed through every part of him, but he felt it most strongly in his gut and his lungs. And his skull, or perhaps just his ears.

    It went on and on, slow, even, and gentle. It nearly rocked him back to sleep, but the curiosity kept pulling him back. He finally got up from his bed of ferns and made his way out of the hole by feel.

    The darkness was so perfect, so complete, that it awakened a very deep part of him that knew nothing but fear. He had a gnawing sense that there was something out there, something that he would never see before it caught him in its teeth. The primal fear pushed his eyes open wider and wider, made his breathing go painfully quiet and even. His mind stretched to find anything sensible to process, but there was nothing.

    No sound, either. His skin¡¯s sensitivity rose to compensate and he thought he could feel the fog on the air, but he couldn¡¯t tell if he was feeling something real or just imagining it.

    Wait. No sound. He listened with his ears, watched with his internal awareness. There was nothing. His imagination worked to fill in the gaps, still trying to create some sort of creeping thing headed his direction, but he pushed those thoughts away and focused.

    The sound was gone. There was nothing at all outside. He crawled back into his hole and squirmed back into his nest of ferns until he was comfortable and tried to go back to sleep, but it only took a moment for him to realize the sound was back.

    He listened for a while, trying to think about the waves of vibration instead of the gaping night only a few feet away from him. Anything could be coming for him and he¡¯d never know it. But it wasn¡¯t. Nothing was coming and he was being silly.

    There was a motion to the hum, a rocking sensation, a rise and fall. A pulse, long and slow. The pulse was as subtle as the sound itself, but it was there, filling a slow count of three or four.

    He decided the gentle vibrations rose from the ground, since if it was just a sound in the air, he wouldn¡¯t feel it so clearly in his body. No, if it was a sound from above or outside, he¡¯d hear it louder than he felt it. Whatever it was, it came from the ground, passed through him, and rose into the immense root above him.

    If he ever saw Socks again, he¡¯d have to ask what the sound was. Maybe the big pup knew, or maybe his mother did. How big was Mother, anyway? Mothers were bigger than their offspring. He knew that. He could almost imagine the size difference. Almost. But like any other concrete memory he tried to nail down, it slipped away.

    It no longer felt unnatural to be a child, and now he wondered if it was affecting his speech or thinking. But how could he tell? How would he measure it, without other humans to compare against?

    He couldn¡¯t measure and it was useless to try. He was a child. He knew nothing else. He had no memory of any other life. For all he knew, this was how new humans emerged. The word for that was ¡®birth¡¯, but he didn¡¯t have much of a concept to go with the word. Birth should happen where a mother was. He knew that, but maybe there had been a mistake. That didn¡¯t feel right, but what did he know?

    When he fell asleep shortly afterward, he dreamed of being a tree. His thoughts were so alien that when he woke, he could make no sense of them at all. All he could remember was the feeling of it, the feeling of using senses he couldn¡¯t explain to perceive a world he couldn¡¯t comprehend while awake.

    But when he crawled out of his burrow into the stifling morning fog, he rested his fingertips on the heavy root, so much taller than his little body, and let himself feel a wistful longing for the dream world. Some kind of nostalgia for the unreal that could never be satisfied or shared.

    Oh well. Sleeping underground had indeed kept him dry, and that was already a welcome improvement. And now it was time for water! It seemed such a treat that his pleasant melancholy vanished immediately and he began racing around licking up every drop. He got smarter about his method, too. He drank a lot more water if he just went around slurping up the little puddles that collected on bigger fern leaves, than trying to clean all the water off the whole plant.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    His stomach was stuffed with water long before the fog lifted, so much it sloshed a little when he walked. He needed food, too, but he¡¯d eat later when he had more room in there.

    Running through the ferns got him drenched again, though, and now he was cold. All the black dirt caked onto his skin had turned back into mud. If only he had something to scrape it off, he might be able to get clean. But there was nothing to use, nothing at all. Not unless he wanted to try and scrape himself off on a tree, and his front was still healing from the last time he tried that.

    So, now what? He had the whole rest of the day. He wanted Socks to come back, mostly. Or have someone else to talk to. But there was no telling if or when the giant pup would appear, so he¡¯d have to keep busy before he started getting too lonely.

    The first thing he should do, he decided, was memorize his tree so he could find it again. They all looked similar¡ªimpossibly tall and straight, gray bark forming pillars like stone to hold the green sky up. But they weren¡¯t all exactly the same. The roots and branches were different.

    He stepped out away from his tree and circled leisurely around it, paying careful attention to everything that might matter. His tree had six high roots, five big ones and one deeper one that was only as tall as he was. Up above, it had a branch lower than the rest that stuck out in a unique way.

    Dirt circled it twice, letting it take as long as it took. He heard birds chirping from somewhere nearby, but gave them no heed beyond just enjoying the variety of sound. He moved in closer and circled his tree again, then dug up a few more grubs and had his breakfast. Then he walked out much farther and circled it again, trying to memorize its neighbors as well. They were too far away to bother visiting each one up close, but he could see enough. One neighbor had nine deep roots and no tall ones, and another had only four tall ones.

    The more he stared upward, the more they seemed to take on distinct characters. To develop personalities. He kept getting flashes of his tree dream, just the memory of how it felt. Nothing clear. Perhaps he should name them someday, when he understood them.

    But he learned his tree, as much of it as a little human on the ground could see. He named it Home.

    After all that, he still forgot which root his nest was under. He had the wrong one and panicked when it wasn¡¯t there. When he finally found it under the second root, one-third of the way out, he almost climbed in and took a nap out of pure relief.

    The birdsong kept him out, though. It was getting louder, and that made him curious. He walked in the direction of the sound and it wasn¡¯t long before he saw the motion of the tiny creatures flying up into the air and back down again, making the most noise he¡¯d heard in his life.

    As he got closer, he expected them to fly far away, but they didn¡¯t. He got up close to one, only a few steps away. It was a little thing not much bigger than his hand, dark in color and moving too fast for him to see. Chirping all the while, it shot down from above and disappeared beneath the ferns in a spot where they were tall enough to reach his neck.

    He looked up and saw a great crowd of birds descending from the unreachable heights. Dirt only spotted them from the motion against the dappled green canopy¡ªthey were much too far away to pick out otherwise. How far up was that, anyway? How high were the branches and leaves? How would he even measure? He¡¯d have to think of a way someday.

    One bird was bigger than the rest, pale in color. Much bigger. He could pick it out long before any of the others, but from the flickers of motion, it was certainly not alone. It was on its way down as well, but in a jerky, uneven way. It seemed to glide for a moment, then dart down, or change directions, then do it again and again.

    The big one looked like it was struggling, and that made him nervous. But his curiosity was stronger than his caution, so he had to stay until he saw what was going on.

    Dirt kept his feet planted and watched until it came down far enough to get a good look. Its dirty white color stood out against the green, and its long, mighty wings were tinged with yellow on the ends. It had four legs like Socks, two in front and two in back. It ripped at the air with its front and back talons and snapped with its sharp beak. The closer it got, the less confident he was that it was a bird, but what did he know?

    The little birds were attacking it. That¡¯s what was happening. It thrashed and screeched and tried to kill them, and they were driving it to the ground. They swarmed it in great numbers, all flying in and out to distract and harass it and break up its gliding.

    It was bigger than him, he realized. Now that it was close enough to tell, the large bird wasn¡¯t quite as big as Socks, but still huge compared to Dirt. It looked angry. It was maybe only a hundred paces above him in the air, still struggling to fight off all the little ones.

    It was close. It was angry. It was heading down toward the ground, where he was. Those talons and beak would burst him like a grub.

    Horror nearly kept him rooted to the ground. His heart pounded in his chest and he had to force his legs to start moving. Run! His legs felt like they belonged to someone else, slow to obey him.

    He turned and ran toward Home, quickly picking up the pace until he was sprinting at full speed.

    Before he¡¯d gone fifty paces, something caught his ankle and sent him crashing gracelessly in the dirt.

    ¡°Boy?¡± said a scratchy, high-pitched voice. Dirt flipped around before even getting up and saw five goblins staring back at him. Two more pushed ferns away to get a look, then one more.

    ¡°Boy?¡±

 Ancient Things - Chapter 5

    Frustration just about killed him. He was so frustrated to be caught again that he almost didn¡¯t get up. This was not a place he could live. He never stood a chance.

    The brawny green monsters were as surprised as he was, though, and that was the only thing that saved him. They hesitated and desire to live to surged within him and got him back on his feet.

    ¡°Good boy!¡± shouted one, its voice cracking.

    ¡°Boy!¡± shouted two more. The chase was on.

    Dirt realized he was running toward Home. Stupid, stupid! He turned to the left and kept running. They could never find that place. Never.

    There were more of them out here. Another three goblins ran straight toward him. He turned left again and ran between the two groups, but that quickly proved to be a mistake.

    One ran toward him at an angle, holding a bundle of rope. A bone club whooshed past his head, so close he was sure he felt the wind as it passed.

    ¡°Meat!¡± they shouted to each other. ¡°Boy, meat!¡±

    There were more, always more. Fifteen at least. They had formed a wide half-circle with the birds in the middle, and he was now inside that. If he¡¯d turned the other way, he might have made it to a tree and hopped the roots like before, but now the only thing ahead of him was that swarm of birds and the big one they were bringing down.

    He had one chance. A stupid one, but it was all he could think of. He sprinted as hard as he could straight for the birds. The big one with four legs still hadn¡¯t reached the ground, but it was almost down.

    Dirt had to go under it. He ran so hard his body burned, all of it. He pushed himself harder, then harder again. Every inch of him hurt, begged him to stop.

    He didn¡¯t make it. The huge bird-creature finally gave up and fell the last few feet to the ground, where it landed with more of a flutter than a thud. It stood and gave a mighty shriek, high and loud and clear.

    Dirt ran right behind it, ducking its long, off-white tail-feathers as he passed, hoping it wouldn¡¯t see him. Panic like fire roared inside him, speeding his feet.

    It saw him. A gust of wind lit on his back as the beast flapped its great wings and an instant later, it fell on him and slammed him into the ground.

    Face first. He couldn¡¯t breathe. He struggled as hard as he could to slip out, knowing that its beak would be next. It wouldn¡¯t eat him in one bite, either.

    Dirt turned his head and sucked in what air he could with all that weight on him.

    ¡°Let me go!¡± he screamed with all his might. Then he tried with his mind, ¡°Let me go!¡±

    Neither worked. From the corner of his eye, he saw the great beak coming down for him. He felt the beast¡¯s hot breath on his cheek, quick, short puffs of air.

    ¡°Please,¡± he begged. ¡°Please.¡± He could hardly breathe. The thing had him pinned so perfectly he couldn¡¯t even wiggle his shoulders. ¡°Please,¡± he whimpered. His chest burned from lack of air. He was going to die.

    Dirt¡¯s ribs creaked under the pressure and he was sure that was his last breath getting squeezed out. But he was wrong¡ªthe beast leaped off him with another flap of its mighty wings. He felt a slight snag on his thigh, but it left him there.

    It shrieked again, piercing his ears. It darted down at something only a few steps farther and a goblin gave a scream of its own. Dirt scrambled to his feet just in time to see the beast flinging away a severed arm, club and all.

    Dirt instantly raced for the club. But before he could find it, another goblin started coming his way. He changed his mind and ran.

    His mind fought against the panic threatening to curl him up in a ball. ¡°Go, go, go, Dirt,¡± he said aloud. He had to run.

    No, not run. He needed to sneak away. He dropped to the ground and started crawling, staying below the ferns the whole time.

    The sounds of the fight assaulted him from every direction. Hiding under the ferns, he felt more exposed than ever. Violence and death were everywhere, from every direction as the bird-monster attacked over and over in different places.

    Screams and howls. Cracks and thuds. The sounds were so chaotic he couldn¡¯t even picture what was happening. After two days of near-complete silence, it seemed ear-splitting.

    Dirt crawled as fast as he could. Too fast. He lost his balance and bit the dirt, then pushed himself up and kept going. He whimpered, keening through closed teeth, unable to stop. Every part of him burned with exertion.

    The goblins started to sound more panicked. They screamed wordlessly, raising a cacophony that made his heart tremble. More and more of their screams turned to terror, and soon enough, Dirt heard them split up and start running, howling as they went.

    He dropped to the ground and curled into a position where he wasn¡¯t touching any ferns. ¡®Gods in Glory¡­¡¯ His mind conjured those words as if by instinct, but he didn¡¯t know what was supposed to come next.

    All he knew was more than one goblin was coming in his direction. He held as still as he could. Panic and exertion made holding his breath impossible, but he tried. Gods in Glory, he tried.

    One fled past him. Another followed shortly after. As they ran, their heavy feet made dull thumps that Dirt could swear he felt through the ground. The goblins spoke to each other in short bursts of growling and hisses, nothing like words.

    Another came up, running on the opposite side as the others. This one was closer. It slowed. It slowed down again and stopped, not too far.

    Dirt had no idea exactly how far, and not being able to see caused him so much torment he almost got up and ran.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Terror filled his eyes with tears, which he desperately tried to blink away so he could see. His face curled into a grimace of fear, the muscles tightening so fiercely that his face hurt.

    It stepped toward him.

    It paused.

    The goblin gave a coughing growl that almost sounded like a bark. The others nearby quieted.

    Dirt felt a drip running down his thigh. He craned his neck to look and found blood. Only then did he feel the cut, as if it appeared right at that moment. He was bleeding. He struggled to make sense of it in the midst of so much mental terror. He didn¡¯t know what to do. It was bad, and it hurt, but what should he do?

    The nearby goblins had gone quiet. Dirt could still hear others farther away, and the bird-beast, too. It sounded like it was still hunting them. But the close goblins, those ones made no sound.

    He waited and waited, suffering. ¡°Please go, please go, please be gone,¡± he mouthed silently.

    Maybe they were gone? Not a sound. Maybe he was mistaken, and they¡ª

    Dirt heard a shuffle right behind him. He shot up from the ground and bolted, right into a creeping goblin. He ducked under its grasping hands, but it caught his wrist for just long enough to slow him down before he yanked himself free.

    Another goblin grabbed him with both arms before he had time to react. It lifted him onto its shoulders and started running. The handful of others nearby gave howls of glee and followed.

    Dirt screamed and fought, twisting and flailing, doing everything he could to get away. The thing¡¯s arms were so strong they might as well be solid wood, but it wasn¡¯t taller than he was. It couldn¡¯t win a war of leverage while running.

    He twisted again, trying to throw his weight over the goblin¡¯s back. It lost its balance and nearly dropped him, and Dirt saw his chance. He twisted and turned and fought with wild desperation to get away, and the goblin¡¯s grip slipped.

    Dirt somehow got his foot under the goblin¡¯s armpit and kicked as hard as he could. It was enough. He pushed himself out of its arms and into the ground.

    It spun around and was on him before he could even scramble to his feet. Dirt struggled so wildly that it couldn¡¯t get a grip on him to pick him back up. Two more goblins laughed from close by.

    That sparked its ire and its yellow-tinged eyes grew more serious. It stepped in and punched Dirt in the face, full-force. He saw a flash of white and felt himself slipping away into oblivion before he even registered pain.

    He forced himself to move. He rolled over and scrambled to his feet, eyes unable to focus. A wave of nausea hit him, but he tried to press on.

    The goblin grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Dirt didn¡¯t even see the fist coming before it slammed into his face the second time.

    Dirt woke a moment later, laying flat on his back. He fought against the haze and confusion, slowly regaining the ability to think. His hands lifted themselves in front of his face where he could look at them through his good eye.

    Pain poured into him then, rushing through him like a torrent. His face was agony. The ground spun beneath him, causing nausea and dizziness like he¡¯d never imagined. He gingerly traced his fingertips over his face and found that one of his eyes was swollen completely shut. The warm, sickly taste of blood filled his mouth, and when he felt around with his tongue, he discovered he¡¯d lost three teeth on the left side¡ªone on top, two on bottom.

    Why was he here? Why was he still alive?

    His face throbbed with his heartbeats, sending waves of pain all the way down to his collarbone. He looked up at the endless trees, impossibly far above him, but his good eye had trouble focusing that far and everything was just a splotchy blur.

    A goblin screamed nearby, but the sound cut off and became a rattle.

    Dirt had not been out long. Desperate urgency drove him to roll over and get up on hands and knees, where he nearly vomited. His arms were wobbly and he felt unbalanced, disconnected. But he pushed himself up.

    Only a few steps away, the great bird-beast tore open the chest of a goblin to get at its heart and lungs. Two more quick snaps of its beak, and the snack was gone. It lifted its head and spun its neck all the way around, looking straight at him without moving its body.

    The beast¡¯s shoulder was higher than his head, and it gave off an aura of indomitable power that made Dirt tremble in his deepest parts. Its sharp yellow beak was as long as his torso, each of its yellow talons as long as his forearm. The off-white feathers on its face and legs were bright red and spattered with gore. Its eyes stayed fixed on him with perfect, predatory focus. One twitch it didn¡¯t like, and it would kill him without the slightest effort. Only having Socks up close yesterday kept him sane now.

    Dirt found he had no fuel left for fear. He simply turned around, slowly, and started shuffling away. Let it come eat him if it wanted. Let a goblin catch him. He was done.

    He stepped on a bone club, a hefty thing as long as his arm. He paused, then reached down to pick it up, quickly imagining all the things he could do with it. It was the first and only tool he¡¯d found.

    But he heard a jolting motion from behind him and he turned back to look. The bird-beast still had its eyes fixed on him, its body language taut and ready to kill. Dirt quickly dropped the club and stepped backward, then again. He lifted his hands to show they were empty, and he angled his face toward the ground instead of the animal.

    The beast gave a huff then moved a few steps farther into the ferns and ducked its head down, likely to rip open another goblin corpse.

    Dirt had survived. It wasn¡¯t after him. Maybe if he¡¯d been alone, it would have eaten him. But there were other things around, things that were trying to kill it. Dirt wasn¡¯t one of those. He wasn¡¯t a threat. That must have saved him. All that, and he didn¡¯t have a lot of meat on him in the first place.

    Relief flooded him, but strangely, it didn¡¯t make him feel any better. In place of fear came another tumbled mess of emotions.

    ¡°The world is rejecting me,¡± he muttered wretchedly. ¡°I don¡¯t belong here or anywhere. I shouldn¡¯t even be alive.¡±

    He wanted water to wash his bloody mouth out, but there wouldn¡¯t be any until tomorrow morning. His leg was still bleeding, but he didn¡¯t have any idea what to do about it. None at all. Hopefully it would stop soon, because blood was necessary for life. He remembered that much.

    Every footstep jolted his swollen face and made the whole thing ache and sting. Each step, over and over. The pain put pressure on his heart, too, which was already aching. He felt more and more miserable, inside and out, and soon he found himself crying softly, more snorts and gasps than anything.

    He hated it, and he couldn¡¯t stop. All it did was make his face hurt more, make water run down his cheeks and remind him he was thirsty, make his throat tighten up and burn. It got hard to see, and that was already hard with one eye. All the sparks drained out of him and he wanted to collapse right there.

    No, not right there. Not yet. He¡¯d collapse in his hole under Home. He¡¯d rest there, in the dark, where it was soft and warm. He¡¯d wait for night to come, and then morning, and then¡­ hopefully he¡¯d just be dead.

    ¡°I¡¯m only three days old!¡± he yelled in complaint to no one. The sound was muffled and lost in the ferns.

    The walk back stretched on for ages. The forest was quiet again, except for his muffled sobs. The eternal trees took no notice of him, silent and unmoving. The ferns tickled lightly against his skin in a way he almost never noticed anymore, and sometimes a stray leaf got into the cut on his leg and dragged through it.

    He had no idea how long it really took, though. Nothing changed here except for him, and for him, things just kept getting worse.

    -Dirt? Little human?-

    He turned to look for the giant wolf pup, and he had to turn farther than normal because of his swollen eye.

    Socks approached him gingerly, nose down and sniffing. The wolf sent Dirt a flash of pity, a burst of emotion with no words.

    ¡°Hello, Socks,¡± thought Dirt. ¡°I¡ª¡° But then he couldn¡¯t think anymore, not clear and loud. Instead he started crying harder, his sobs rising in volume and shaking his chest. It just made his face hurt more.

    -Get on, little human. I¡¯ll carry you back, and then we can lay down for a while.-

    Socks lay down and Dirt climbed up and collapsed along his back. He gripped the soft fur with his fingers and toes, buried the good side of his face in it, clutched with all his remaining strength. The wolf pup rose and left with such perfect smoothness and grace that Dirt only barely felt the motion.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 6

    As Socks ran, Dirt¡¯s sense of speed was incredible. They flew over the ferns almost like birds. Dirt gripped ever tighter, but truly, he felt no danger. Just a rush of wind, the scenery flying past faster than he could imagine, and the sensation of sheer muscular physicality beneath him. Socks was beyond strong. Soft, puffy fur, skin tender from a thin layer of baby fat and beneath all that, muscles longer than Dirt was tall, flexing in perfect rhythmic balance.

    It hardly seemed a moment before Socks slowed to a stop under Home¡¯s lofty branches and knelt to let Dirt slide off. Dirt¡¯s body felt much heavier after that, graceless and awkward as he regained his feet. It left him with a sense of yearning that almost distracted him from the throbbing pain in his face.

    -Good, now stand still for a moment,- said Socks. -I want to lick your blood.-

    Dirt obliged, and the giant wolf pup leaned his great snout down to Dirt¡¯s leg, sniffed at the cut, and began licking it clean. Dirt expected the tongue to be rough, but it was smooth and careful, and after a few good licks, Dirt had a single clean area on his body, half the length of his thigh. The blood stopped coming out so fast now, or maybe it had earlier. It was hard to tell, but it pooled instead of dripping.

    Socks licked it again, doing his best to get his tongue in there to clean it out. It stung, and beside that, something about it was profoundly uncomfortable, but what was Dirt going to do? Complain?

    Only a few more licks and Socks said, -There. It should be better soon. I don¡¯t think licking your face will help because you aren¡¯t bleeding there. I can ask Mother later.-

    ¡°Thanks. I think it helped a little, so you can stop now.¡±

    Socks rolled onto his side and gestured with his paws, welcoming Dirt to climb on and relax. There was a lot of animal there, so picking the perfect spot wasn¡¯t easy. Dirt opted to snuggle in between the beast¡¯s front legs, with his head under Socks¡¯ chin. The pup draped a front leg over him, and that was that.

    It was warm, warmer than Dirt had ever been, and he quickly fell into a comfortable reverie. A few moments ago he¡¯d been cursing the fact that he was alive, but that was fading now. His terror melted away, leaving him feeling drained and loose inside.

    -Show me the fight. I want to see what happened,- said Socks.

    Dirt considered for a moment, wondering how that would work. He pictured the birds first, coming down from the heights. He pictured it as hard and clear as he could, pushing the image to the front of his mind. ¡°There, can you see that?¡±

    -Yes, but it¡¯s loud. You don¡¯t have to be so loud.-

    ¡°Okay. Let me know if I start¡­ letting it slip.¡±

    He brought the image back and pushed it forward, first the little birds darting around in great numbers, then the bird-beast, all claws and feathers and anger, and how the little birds were driving it to the ground.

    Dirt showed his realization that he was in danger, showed himself trying to run away but getting tripped, then chased, then caught. He realized that the bird-beast had given him the cut on his leg¡ªit had just barely nicked him with a talon when it leaped off him. He¡¯d felt the snag, but not the pain.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    He couldn¡¯t remember exactly what happened after that¡ªhis mind had been too full of terror to make sense of anything. But he remembered being punched in the face and how the blow was too much for his child¡¯s body. And getting punched again. Waking up seeped in pain, unsure and unstable, trying to stumble away until Socks found him.

    -I wondered what it was like to be so tiny and weak. That was very interesting. I will tell  my siblings.-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m supposed to survive, if there are things like that everywhere.¡±

    -The goblins wanted to eat the gryphon. They were attracted by all the commotion, since it started all the way up. Just stay away from noisy places and you¡¯ll probably be fine,- said Socks.

    ¡°A gryphon? Is that what the big one is called?¡±

    -Yes. Mother says they like the mountains, but sometimes they can be seen elsewhere. I doubt you¡¯ll find another one. And goblins are not very smart. They are not even as smart as a human. They just go toward noisy things because they are hungry.¡±

    ¡°But they could talk.¡±

    -They do not understand the words. It is only sounds to them.-

    ¡°So all I have to do is be quiet, and I won¡¯t get eaten?¡±

    -Well, that is one thing you have to do.-

    The great pup didn¡¯t seem particularly affected by Dirt¡¯s plight, and he was starting to feel disregarded. A novelty instead of a person. A curiosity, enjoyed and then discarded. It was better than nothing, he thought to himself, with a hint of bitterness.

    But Socks said, -Don¡¯t be sad, little human. Little Dirt. Come, join me in the dream. Let¡¯s go to sleep and you¡¯ll feel better.-

    ¡°Okay. I bet you¡¯re right,¡± thought Dirt. He retreated into his thoughts, enjoying the feeling of the great pup¡¯s fur, the feeling of softness and warmth and life. The pup¡¯s faint smell, hard to identify but not unpleasant.

    The pup¡¯s breathing settled into an even rhythm, and Dirt guessed that Socks had fallen asleep. The only thing keeping Dirt awake now was the searing, throbbing pain in his face, pain that made him hold as still as possible. But exhaustion was fighting to win and he relaxed further, comforted, enveloped in Socks¡¯ warm embrace. He snuggled in a bit deeper.

    Some part of him knew this was only temporary, that his injuries would take a long time to heal, that Socks would have to leave him alone again soon. But he pushed those thoughts away and tried to make the nagging knot of dread in his heart come undone and vanish.

    He should keep on living. He could feel that, even if he couldn¡¯t look around at how things were going and explain why. One thing at a time. Courage, Dirt. Take courage. And a nap.

    Dirt slept easily and comfortably after that, and when he woke, his mind was filled with a tangled mess of colors and smells and emotions that collapsed as soon as he became aware of them. They left behind a lingering sense of loss, like something beautiful was gone, and Dirt knew he had dreamed. He wished he could remember what had happened in it.

    -Why do you dream like that?- asked Socks.

    It took Dirt a moment to realize that Socks was really here and had actually spoken. His bed in the pup¡¯s fur was too perfect and felt like nothing at all. ¡°Dream like what? I think that was my second dream and I already forgot it.¡±

    -I was waiting for you to come, and then when you did, you were like this,- replied Socks. He sent a mental image of a flurry of disconnected parts and pieces all swarming in a cloud, tiny bits of color, incomplete shapes of flesh. The swirling thing spoke with Dirt¡¯s voice, though, and laughed as he and Socks flew into a blue sky, across red mountains and black valleys, green meadows with flowers of unnamed colors.

    Others were there, too, other wolf pups like Socks. They danced together, and snarled and played and flew¡ª

    And then the vision was gone. -Why did you look like that? Is that how humans are?-

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± said Dirt.

    -I will have to ask Mother. I think there is something wrong with you. You might be broken.-

    Dirt agreed, but he didn¡¯t know what to say, so he said nothing. They lay for a short while longer, and then Socks had to go.

    -Stay out of danger, little human. Little Dirt. Good bye.-

    ¡°Good bye, Socks. Thank you for saving me.¡±

    Dirt got a lump in his throat that burned and ached as he watched Socks slide effortlessly into a run. It didn¡¯t fade for quite a while.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 7

    The rest of the day was spent quietly. Dirt dug for grubs and baby ferns and ate his fill, then had little to do until dark arrived. And he didn¡¯t really want to do much anyway, because every time he took a step his face throbbed. At least he still had one good eye left, because otherwise he¡¯d probably starve.

    Broken. Socks said he was broken and he probably didn¡¯t mean the face bones. Something about dreams. Well, Dirt knew there was something wrong with him, too, and he didn¡¯t know what or why either. So that was nothing new. But even so, it was painful to think about.

    It was Dirt¡¯s first and only taste of any kind of warmth, any care or succor, and now that it was absent, he knew how bad he needed more. Dirt didn¡¯t know how close they could ever be, since Socks was a predator and Dirt was prey at best, but he hoped for something. Friendship, or even just regular visits. Something. Anything. He needed it. But maybe Socks would never come back. Maybe Mother would tell her son not to go play with the dirty, broken human anymore.

    With nothing to do but worry and think, his melancholy was almost as bad as his injuries. He didn¡¯t want to run around, because that made his face hurt and his leg bled if he didn¡¯t hold still. There was no one to talk to. Nothing to do but wait for dark and the chance to sleep.

    His imagination grew to fill the emptiness, but it took effort. He gazed upward into the canopy, so unreachably distant above him, and wondered if things were different up there. Maybe that¡¯s where all the other humans were. No one was alone up there, and they could drink water whenever they wanted. Maybe Dirt had fallen down, and that¡¯s how he ended up here.

    He tried to imagine being with other humans, but he had nothing to build on. He knew he was a child, so the adults must be bigger, but he had never seen his own face and his imagination made everyone look like a goblin. From there, his imagination had him chasing through the green skies above to escape oversized monstrosities.

    The trauma of the fight kept trying to catch him in its claws and drag him back into terror, but each time it did, he imagined a way out. He had to, or they would overwhelm him.

    Goblins surrounded him and he flapped his wings and flew above them like a bird. One caught him, but Dirt imagined himself coated in mud and he slipped away. Another chased him, but Dirt stomped on the branch and broke it, sending the goblin tumbling into eternity. The gryphon came, but he fed it some grubs and it left him alone.

    After a while, he dug up some grubs again, but before eating them, he gave them voices. One was a mother, and the other a child. He struggled to think what they would say to each other.

    ¡°Hello, mother.¡±

    ¡°Hello, child.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ have some food for you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, mother.¡±

    Dirt paused, wondering what else they would talk about. He wanted them to become real, wanted it desperately. The need for play seemed almost like hunger or thirst, but he had no memories to draw on. As he sat in silence trying to think of something, frustration rose in him until he was about ready to squeeze both grubs to death in his hands and lick them off.

    ¡°Mother, I saw a gryphon today.¡± Yes, that would work.

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°It was like a big¡­ wolf, but with feathers and beak like a bird. It chased me but I got away.¡±

    From there, he added a brother and sister and father, and had them each tell stories about goblins or gryphons or wolves, about trees and ferns and night and day, over and over. He explained how to hide, and about being careful of making too much noise. When one of the grubs died from being played with too much, he ate it and dug up another one.

    By the time night came, his spirit felt much calmer, his confidence higher. He was going to be okay. His face ached so bad he wondered if he¡¯d even be able to sleep, but that was temporary. He¡¯d get better. And he was lonely, scared, and vulnerable, but Socks would come back.

    The creeping darkness of night nudged him into his nest, and he carefully curled up in a way that didn¡¯t put any pressure on his thigh or his face. It wasn¡¯t easy, either, since it was the left side of his face and his right leg. The pain kept him up long past when he wanted to be asleep, long enough that the vibrations started again. The sound was soothing, though. A good sound. It sounded right. Important and true. He was fine, and he¡¯d be better tomorrow. He¡¯d lived another day. Just surviving took a kind of strength, and so did having hope. He could do that, too. He wasn¡¯t completely weak.

    Hope was the thing that finally carried him off to sleep. It glowed in his chest like a little light of his own, chasing off the last few itching shadows.

    He woke several times during the night because he kept moving in a way that tweaked something painful, but not for long each time. The gentle waves of sound passed through him on their way up into the tree, whatever they were. He stayed awake just long enough to remember that he had been dreaming about being a tree again, living in an infinite-faceted world he could not begin to understand with his human mind.

    When dawn came, he paused for a moment before getting up to finally go get some water. He raised his hand and touched the root of the enormous tree and tried to remember the dream. His senses had been too confusing, too varied and subtle, to analyze with his human understanding. But one thought struck him, so surprising it almost felt like an electric shock: If it could dream, the tree had a mind. And it had dreamed. It¡¯d swept his dreams up into its own. That was the only explanation. It was alive and aware.

    ¡°Home¡­¡± he whispered aloud. Home was alive, alive like a person. A real thing. Not just scenery, but real.

    Had he dreamed he was a tree himself? Had that really been what happened? Or was he simply sharing in its experience?

    ¡°Good morning, Home,¡± he said quietly. The root bark said nothing back, of course. The night vibrations were gone and no dreams remained. Home would be quiet until night, and then they could talk again.

    He crawled out of his nest and stood, stretching with a contented groan. The morning fog was already starting to lift, so he must have slept late. But he liked the fog, he decided; it was the best way to start the day. Nothing to see, nothing to worry about.

    His leg wasn¡¯t bleeding anymore, which was good. When he poked at it, it only stung a little and seemed to have mostly closed up. Was that how fast cuts healed? Just one night? That was good to know. Almost good as new.

    But his face was still swollen and he couldn¡¯t open his left eye. Turning his head too fast or leaning forward made it ache, a deep hurt that pressed into his bones. That would take more time to get better. Oh well.

    The morning dew tasted sweet this morning, pleasantly cool, but that was probably because of how thirsty he was.

    -Hello, Dirt, little human,- came Socks¡¯ voice, right before the giant pup poked Dirt in the back with his wet nose.

    Dirt was so startled he jumped forward and shrieked, heart instantly beating three times as fast.

    -Looks like I scared you,- said Socks, sounding amused.

    ¡°You snuck up on me! You¡¯re very quiet for something so big,¡± said Dirt, grinning.

    -I am a hunter.- Socks sent an image of himself leaping upon an unsuspecting animal that Dirt had never seen before and snapping its neck in his mighty teeth.

    ¡°Oh, I know you could eat me in one bite if you wanted. I was just surprised. But I¡¯m glad to see you. Come down here so I can hug you.¡± Dirt held his arms up, and Socks carefully lowered himself to a squat. Dirt hugged Socks around the neck, burying the good side of his face in the pup¡¯s warm, damp fur. Socks¡¯ neck was too big for Dirt to get his arms all the way around, but he did his best to scratch as much territory as he could reach.

    -What were you doing right before?-

    ¡°I was just drinking some water. I need a lot, but the only time to get it is in the morning. Do you drink water, or is the blood from your prey enough?¡±

    -You were drinking water off the ferns? Is that even called drinking?-

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Well, where else do I get it?¡± asked Dirt.

    -Keep scratching, and maybe I will take you with me.- said Socks playfully.

    Dirt kept right on scratching, making sure he was as appealing to have along as possible. Socks tilted his head around to direct Dirt to the best spots, and he made sure to remember where they were. He tried not to let himself get too excited about going with Socks, but he only had so much mental discipline to spare.

    -I was on my way somewhere near here so I came by to see if you were dead yet. Mother thought you might be, but I didn¡¯t think so. I licked your leg so I knew it would get better. She didn¡¯t say how to fix your face.-

    ¡°Well, you were right. I¡¯m alive. But only because you saved me. I think I was ready to give up and die before you came yesterday.¡±

    -You are so tiny that it¡¯s impossible to tell what might break you. I am glad you are still alive, because I think you are interesting.-

    Dirt smiled softly to himself, trying not to seem too eager. Interesting was something he could work with.

    ¡°Socks, can I ask you something? Every night when I sleep under the tree, I hear a sound like this,¡± said Dirt. He collected a mental image of the vibrations, trying to capture as much of the experience as he could, and focused on it in his mind for Socks to see.

    -I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll have to ask Mother. I sleep with all my brothers and sisters, not under a tree.-

    ¡°Did you know that trees are alive?¡±

    -Of course they¡¯re alive, silly little human. They grow. They¡¯re plants, and plants are alive.-

    ¡°No, I mean, not like plants. They can dream, which means they have minds. They¡¯re like us, sort of.¡±

    -You didn¡¯t know that? How can something be alive and not have a mind?-

    Dirt thought about that for a moment. Why had he expected otherwise? It had never occurred to him that trees might think, but why shouldn¡¯t they be able to?

    ¡°Can you talk to them?¡±

    -Mother does. I think they are boring.-

    ¡°Well, nothing is boring to me because I¡¯ve only been alive for four days, counting this one. But, can you really take me to water? And bring me back here? I think I like this tree.¡±

    -Yes. Climb on and hold tight. I want to go back to something I found, and there is water there for you.-

    ¡°What was it?¡±

    -I don¡¯t know. You will see it when we get there.-

    Dirt crawled up onto Socks¡¯ back with a mixture of eagerness and trepidation. Something about this made him nervous, but there was no way he was going to pass it up. He lay along the pup¡¯s back and settled deep into his soft fur, getting as solid a grip as he could.

    Socks ran. He ran so fast the ferns turned into an indistinct green blur, so fast that Dirt couldn¡¯t lift his head much before the rushing wind started pushing him off. Socks leaped through the air and Dirt found himself laughing with joy and terror mixed.

    That just seemed to make the pup more enthusiastic. Socks leaped high into the air several times more, higher and higher, easily reaching fatal heights. Dirt screamed and laughed, body full of sparks. The pup¡¯s balance and control were so perfect that Dirt never once felt himself slipping, or had any fear that he might be accidentally dropped.

    Dirt had no way to measure distance or time, but Home was long vanished into the pale distance before Socks finally slowed and stopped. Dirt tossed his feet to one side and slid down, landing more gracefully than he expected.

    He still felt like he was floating. He had a grin plastered on his face that wouldn¡¯t go away. It was making his cheek muscles ache.

    -Here. This is farther than Mother can see. I know that because I tested it. Now, look what I found.-

    Cut stone lay buried in the ground, making a row that led past a series of stone basins. It led a good distance through toppled clumps of stone and overgrown plants, and ended at a massive square ruin of graying stone, overgrown with moss and ferns.

    Dirt was baffled, intimidated by it at first. A sense of dread foreboding kept his feet planted as he tried to make sense of what he saw.

    It all looked deliberate, completely unlike anything else in the forest. In fact, it was the first stone he¡¯d seen. Not even a tiny little rock, despite digging in all that dirt. He stepped forward and knelt to touch it, tracing his fingers along the rough, hard surface.

    He shot to his feet and spun to face Socks. ¡°A building! It¡¯s a building, and that¡¯s a path!¡± He realized he was talking aloud, and thought, ¡°Sorry, I forgot. But that¡¯s a building! I think humans made this! You are supposed to walk on these stones and they¡¯re called a road. It¡¯s broken in the other direction, but I think it went really far once. And it leads to that building. That¡¯s a place where you can go inside, and¡­ it looks like¡­ I think it¡¯s a temple. It has¡­¡±

    Dirt¡¯s thoughts trailed off as words came to him that he¡¯d never had in his head before. A road. A temple. Everything out front was probably a garden. He tried to grab on to any of those words, to try and really understand what they meant. What he was looking at.

    He stepped onto the road and walked forward, feeling the cool, hard stone beneath his feet and how different it was from bark or dirt. Socks padded along behind him, sniffing everything warily.

    Dirt stopped at an old stone basin full of dark green water. He dipped his hands in and brought some up to his face. It smelled odd, unlike anything he was used to. He took a sip but it tasted unpleasant so he decided to look elsewhere before drinking any more.

    He heard a trickle and ran at a full sprint toward the source. One of the basins had perfectly clear water, and Dirt could see right down to the bottom where the water came up from a hole. The water filled it halfway, up to a spot where a big chunk had broken off the side. From there it trickled onto the paving stones, no thicker than a stream of urine. It made a second puddle in a dip in the stone, and a little furrow where the water drained off it. He wasn¡¯t sure, but it looked like it had been doing that for a very long time.

    Dirt dunked his head and drank until he had to come up for air. The cold water made his injured face ache with throbbing pulses that reached down into his neck, but he didn¡¯t care. ¡°Drink some! It¡¯s so good!¡±

    Socks dipped his nose near the water and started lapping it up with his tongue, and Dirt dunked his head again. The cold was shocking, but the water was perfectly clear and had none of the plant taste that the morning dew did.

    When he pulled his head out again, he noticed how much dirt he left behind in the water and immediately felt guilty. He had ruined something special. He might never see clean water again. That might have been the only time, for the rest of his life.

    The shame of it made him sick to his stomach, but Socks said, -There is always more water. You are being silly, little human. Don¡¯t feel bad. Come look at this.-

    Dirt wondered why he had to think things loudly if Socks could just hear everything either way, but he didn¡¯t argue.

    Socks led him down the stone path, most of which was crumbling and uneven, and stopped at the building. It was a lumpy mound of pale, dirty stone, decaying moss, and ferns, but some of the square shape was still visible.

    Enough of it was still standing that it towered over him, twice as tall as Socks at its highest point. It seemed big, but not compared to the trees. It seemed big compared to little Dirt, standing in front of it.

    Fallen pillars lay to either side of a tall opening, full of nothing but silent blackness. Despite all the parts that had collapsed, there was still an opening, with interior space behind it. There was plenty of room in there. He could walk right in if he wanted. Theoretically. He found himself unwilling to go farther as the darkness both called to him and urged him to turn away.

    But Socks stopped. He said, -Mother can¡¯t see this far, so she doesn¡¯t know what we¡¯re doing. I want to go in, but Mother said never to go into places like this. But I want to find out what¡¯s inside. Don¡¯t you?-

    Dirt hesitated, looking through the opening, which called up the word ¡®doorway¡¯, even if there was no ¡®door¡¯. He wasn¡¯t sure what a door might be, but whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t there. There was only enough light to see a single step inside.

    A temple. A human place. An old, old place of men, right in front of him. The darkness inside wasn¡¯t the comforting darkness of his den under Home, though. It was the mysterious darkness of hidden Night, in which only things that lived without light dared move. But what was a temple, anyway? What was it for?

    He asked, ¡°Mother said not to go in? Did she say what kinds of things are in there that you might need to worry about?¡±

    Socks pawed at the ground, hesitating. Dirt could feel his eagerness, though, even without the pup sending it on purpose.

    When Socks didn¡¯t answer, Dirt turned his eyes back to the blackness. How much would it hurt to just walk in a short distance, and find out if he could even see in there? Maybe his eyes would adjust to the light, and he¡¯d see what it was like.

    A temple was a good place. The word felt good in his mind, even if he didn¡¯t know why anymore. But there was something about how it had decayed, how silent it was, that made him second guess himself. There was nothing here, nothing alive but him and Socks.

    This was never meant to be a dead place. It was meant to be a living place. Important, even. He wanted to go in, despite the feeling that the dark old building was watching him as intently as he watched it.

    But¡­ ¡°Socks, has she ever been wrong before?¡±

    The wolf pup turned his giant head and fixed his yellow eyes on Dirt. -There is a smell I do not know. But the air inside is very old, and it might be nothing. It is faint.- Socks turned back to sniff at the entrance again. -Mother has never been wrong. That is impossible.-

    ¡°Then we shouldn¡¯t go in. I don¡¯t know why she said that, but we should listen to her.¡±

    Socks gave a little whine, sniffing again. He turned and walked in a circle, his stomach brushing right over Dirt¡¯s head. He faced inward and sniffed again. He pawed at the stone several times, then said, -You are right. We should listen to Mother, even if she can¡¯t see us right now.-

    I CAN SEE YOU, PUP. BECAUSE YOU LISTENED TO WISDOM, YOU MAY LIVE. AND FOR SPEAKING WISDOM, I WILL CONSIDER YOUR BROKEN PET. BRING HIM TO ME.

    The power of the thought nearly drove Dirt to his hands and knees, and when it was over, he felt light enough to float away. Dizzy, he rested his hands on his knees and breathed deeply.

    Socks lowered his nose and licked Dirt¡¯s hair a little to get his attention. -Are you okay?-

    ¡°I think I¡¯m fine. That was¡­ was that Mother?¡±

    -Yes. I will tell her to be quieter when we get there, since you are very small.-

    A sense of subtle fear came across along with the thought, and Dirt realized that Socks looked taken aback. He stood and stepped in to pet the pup¡¯s hanging head. ¡°How about you? Are you okay?¡±

    -Sometimes you can be scared after the bad thing happens instead of before.-

    Seeing the enormous beast with his tail tucked and his ears lowered was more unnerving than seeing him with blood all over his face had been. Dirt pressed his forehead into the wolf¡¯s and hugged him around the snout. After a moment, he said, ¡°It¡¯ll be okay, Socks.¡±

    -You have no idea what you are talking about, little human. Little Dirt. It¡¯s a good thing we listened, though. Get on. Let us go and see Mother.-

    As they left, Dirt glanced at the basin and wondered if the dirt he left in it would be there forever, or if it would be clean next time he came.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 8

    Socks raced with the same effortless speed as before, but there was no mirth in it this time. The wolf¡¯s demeanor was subdued and anxious, and Dirt could feel it even though Socks wasn¡¯t talking. Dirt¡¯s own heart was mostly full of concerned sympathy¡ªhe had never seen Socks like this and he didn¡¯t know what to do about it, other than try and smother him in affection. And that wasn¡¯t possible right now, not running at a speed that would shatter every bone in Dirt¡¯s body if he fell.

    As they ran farther and farther, Dirt watched as the unending, impossibly tall trees slowly changed. It was subtle at first¡ªthey grew shorter, and periodically a spot of blue became visible for only an instant. Dirt wished he could sit up and look around properly, but he didn¡¯t dare try. Not without asking first and trying it while going slower, and this didn¡¯t seem like a good time.

    The edge of the great forest came into view. Dirt nearly did sit up to get a look then, and if not for the rushing air, he might have. From the corner of his vision, he saw the approaching line in the sky where it went from unbroken green to unbroken blue. There were no trees past it; at least, none big enough to see.

    He¡¯d had no idea there was an ¡®outside¡¯ to the forest. But everything got so much brighter ahead that he found himself suddenly wanting to stop, to not cross that threshold. It wasn¡¯t safe out there without a real sky.

    But they didn¡¯t stop. Socks never slowed.

    The sun burst out from behind the eternal trees and fell on him in all its fury, too painful to even look at. Every inch of his dirty skin, from the soles of his feet to the tips of his ears, warmed in the light¡¯s heat. He had to squint to see anything and his good eye hurt anyway, way deep in the back. But he couldn¡¯t just shut it. There was too much to see.

    There were little trees everywhere, of every shape and color, but they were all tiny. Too small to be called trees. Socks had to pick the ones he went under, and most of them he had to go around. Some grew thick, with leaves like thousands of needles. Others grew tall and thin, or in every direction at once. Flat and thin, curved and straight, wide and narrow¡ªsimply too much to keep track of.

    Shadows, too. Lines of light and dark all over everything. He¡¯d never seen a shadow before, but every single thing had one and he had no time to get used them. No ferns, either. None at all. Instead, grass and bushes and big patches of bare earth and rocks. Leaves of bright green, dark green, muted blue, or even purple made up the confused landscape. Everything raced by too fast for Dirt to get a good look, and soon he started feeling dizzy. It was all too much. The empty sky, the bright sun that was impossible to get away from, plants in unending variety.

    But he couldn¡¯t look away. He couldn¡¯t look away for an instant. The uneven ground became hills, and the scenery started changing so fast he couldn¡¯t remember the last thing he¡¯d just seen.

    No wonder Socks lived out here somewhere. This was a place where anything could appear, unending variety in every direction. The forest was sacred and solemn and empty, and everything there but the trees and the ferns was just visiting. Out here, though, who knew what to expect?

    Dirt stopped being able to tell things apart. His mind was simply too overwhelmed to keep up and it was all turning into a blur. He felt a little nauseous and hoped his grip on Socks was strong enough. Finally, he closed his good eye, hoping that not looking for a moment would help him recover.

    Socks stopped abruptly, so quickly that Dirt almost slid forward and fell off. -I think you need a drink of water. You should be healthy when you meet Mother, but you are dizzy and confused.-

    ¡°Thanks. There¡¯s just too much to see. I¡¯m just¡­ it¡¯s too much.¡± Dirt slid off and landed on his feet, but not gracefully. It was a bit of a drop, after all. The ground was hard and poky here, with lots of sharp little rocks and bits of wood, and he danced around and hissed in pain.

    -You are soft,- said Socks.

    ¡°I bet you were just as soft when you were four days old,¡± replied Dirt. ¡°What is that sound? Oh¡­!¡±

    Just ahead was more water than Dirt had imagined could exist at once. It rushed along in a great stream, too wide to jump across. A river. This was a river! Dirt got on his hands and knees and crept up to the edge of the water, nervous about how fast it was moving. The sunlight made it sparkle and flash, and shadowed spots let him see all the way to the sand in the bottom.

    -Just drink. Don¡¯t jump in or it will carry you away.-

    ¡°I¡¯m not really thirsty anymore,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I had plenty before.¡±

    -Drink a little bit, then. It¡¯s only water. You are hungry, aren¡¯t you? I am too big to catch bugs for you, but I smell some eggs. Do you want some eggs to eat?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what eggs are. Are they good?¡±

    -I don¡¯t know. They are food for small things like you. Wait here.- Socks turned and padded silently away.

    A hundred quiet sounds rushed in once the pup was gone. Birdsong, gentle wind rusting in the leaves, taps and creaks and buzzing insects. It smelled different, too, like water and dust and pollen. It was far less humid, and the air lacked that heavy blanket-like quality it had back in the forest.

    He decided he could use a bit of water after all, so he very carefully dipped his head down and slurped up a few gulps. He was so nervous about falling in that he didn¡¯t even taste it, and once he¡¯d swallowed enough he scooted three or four steps away from the edge, just in case.

    It wasn¡¯t too unpleasant out here. There was a gentleness to all the variety, like it was all supposed to go together somehow, following some pattern he hadn¡¯t detected. That didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t dangerous, though. The forest was calmer than here by far, and look what had happened to him there.

    Little bugs flew by, too tiny to tell their shape. They were like motes of sunlight, almost, flitting around with nervous speed. The sun on his legs felt nice, too. Warm. A little animal, no bigger than his hand, darted from one tree to another, too fast for Dirt to get a good look at it.

    Socks politely rustled a bush when he got back so Dirt wouldn¡¯t be startled again.

    -Here, little human. Eat these.-

    The pup opened his mouth and unrolled his tongue to reveal four round, white balls. Dirt took them, rubbing their hard, smooth surface with his thumbs. They didn¡¯t seem like food.

    ¡°How do I eat them?¡±

    -They are full of juice inside. The goblins knock a hole in the top with a tooth, then another hole in the bottom, and suck it out. They do not eat the shell.-

    Dirt took one and tilted his head back. He knocked the shell against one of his sharper teeth. It didn¡¯t work.

    -Harder, silly little human. But not too hard or it will come apart.-

    Dirt knocked it harder, then harder, and harder again, and finally he punched a little hole in the bottom. He flipped it around and tap, tap, crack. He put his lips around the hole and sucked, and the liquid inside oozed slowly into his mouth and down his throat. It had a mild flavor, and it was pleasantly warm¡ªeither from being in Socks¡¯ mouth or from having sunlight on it before that.

    He ate the second one in the same way and decided two were enough. ¡°I feel a lot better. I think you were right. I just needed something to eat, and a moment with my feet under me. Two is enough for now, though. Is it okay if I hold on to the other ones?¡±

    -No, you will break them on my fur, and it will be somewhere hard to lick off. Just eat them or throw them away.-

    ¡°Can I break it open?¡±

    -We should not make Mother wait. We do not want her to be annoyed with us.-

    ¡°Oh. Right. I¡¯ll hurry.¡± Dirt quickly cracked one open with his fingers and was surprised to find it had two parts inside¡ªa yellow part and a clear part. The yellow part made a little ball of its own in there, so he slurped it up and dropped the rest. The final egg cracked open and ran into the ground, making a little spot of mud. He licked his fingers clean and climbed back up on Socks, and they were off again.

    Now that Dirt had some energy back, the scenery was far more interesting than before. He decided he liked the sunlight, but only so much or it would get tiring. Colors in endless variety flew past, and the rushing wind kept away all the other sounds. He sent bursts of enjoyment to Socks, and the pup seemed to lighten up a little as they went.

    Another pup appeared with the same fur Socks had, gray and brown and white. It ran alongside, giving a curious eye to Dirt and sniffing his direction. Dirt thought ¡°Hello!¡± for it, but the other pup didn¡¯t respond. Instead, Dirt caught tiny snippets and whispers of a conversation between the two that went far too fast for him to follow.

    The pups didn¡¯t need words at all; instead, they sent complex ideas together in bundles. The small bits that Dirt could make sense of were strange, but not as alien as the tree dream. Scents, mostly¡ªscents that felt like colors he had never seen and never would. A mix of scents, a collection of wordless ideas, and maybe a flash of shape or color. Dirt suspected that even if they slowed down and let him hear everything, he wouldn¡¯t get anything more out of the conversation than he did now.

    A third pup joined them, running on the other side. This one was a bit more reddish than the first two, and it only stayed for a short time after giving Dirt a good sniff.

    Then a fourth, and a fifth, and before Dirt knew it, there were dozens. They trailed Socks, who seemed proud at the moment.

    They passed a pile of cracked bones of countless shapes and sizes. Some were fresher than others and the whole pile stank like rot. Dirt got enough of a look to know he could never guess what they belonged to, and some were big enough he would have thought they were little-tree trunks if they weren¡¯t heaped on a bunch of other bones.

    Socks slowed to a trot and led the pack up a hill toward a flat rock as wide as a tree trunk, which rested above a smaller cave opening. That must be it. That was where Mother was, and where Socks lived with his brothers and sisters. Out front, pups played and chased and fought in the dirt. The area was so busy that the whole hillside was just sandy dirt. They¡¯d torn up all the plants.

    -You have not been rude before, but do not be rude to Mother,- thought Socks.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare,¡± thought Dirt, and he meant it.

    As soon as Socks carried him into the cave opening, the smell told him it was not a human place. The den stank of predator; like Socks but stronger, and mixed with other things. A hint of urine, perhaps, and something spicy. The air was motionless, heady, and warm. His body filled with nervousness that came from a deeper place than his thoughts. This was a place of wolves. There was peril here.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    It was dark inside. The only light came in through the entrance behind them, and it took Dirt¡¯s eyes a moment to slowly adjust. The den was a cavern, big enough to hold every wolf outside and more, all at once.

    And it needed to be. Mother was so large that Dirt wasn¡¯t even aware he was looking at her until he found the yellow eyes. She was too large to make sense of. He couldn¡¯t look at all of her all at once unless he got farther away.

    Black as shadow, she lay on her side to nurse ten giant pups Socks¡¯ size, who seemed tiny in comparison. Several more lay around her, patiently waiting their turns. Her head alone was bigger than Socks¡¯ whole body, and her eyes were fixed on them in a way that made him glad he was riding, not walking.

    COME CLOSER.

    Mother¡¯s voice in his head was so loud it replaced every other thought, every emotion. But it was only that loud, and no more¡ªnot loud enough to hurt. And Dirt was certain she could hurt him if she wanted. Just a little louder, and the contents of his skull would shoot out his ears.

    Socks approached gingerly, unsure. He stopped right in front of her nose, and she leaned forward to sniff his face.

    The sheer size of her, and the speed and grace with which she moved, unnerved him. It made him unsteady just looking at her.

    LET HIM DOWN.

    Socks squatted and Dirt slid off, landing feet-first on the soft dirt floor. No ferns, no leaves, nothing. He wondered why.

    COME CLOSER, DIRT. STAND BEFORE ME.

    The fear finally caught up with him. Her nose was so big she could snort him into her lungs with a sniff. He could hollow out one of her teeth and sleep inside it. He dare not approach. He knew he had to, but he couldn¡¯t move. His feet wouldn¡¯t obey him.

    He clenched his fists and grit his teeth and tried to calm down, but to no avail. The terror inside him was so strong it was worse than pain. It was pain. He¡¯d rather get punched a hundred times than face Mother.

    Bursts of amusement filled his mind as all the other little pups started paying attention to what was happening. His head swelled with a dozen different images at once¡ªsome of him being eaten, sent to scare him; others of him being licked, sent to comfort him.

    BE QUIET, ALL OF YOU. YOU WILL HURT HIM. DO YOU NOT SEE HOW FRAGILE HE IS?

    She gazed around the room and the voices in his head quieted. Socks sent him a subtle puff of encouragement, and it helped. A little.

    DIRT, IF YOU WISH TO REMAIN WITH MY CHILD, YOU MUST MASTER YOUR FEAR. I WILL NOT HAVE YOU TEACH HIM WEAKNESS.

    That scared him in a very different way. It was one thing to be torn apart and die, but abandonment was beyond imagining. He couldn¡¯t let that happen, no matter what.

    Dirt focused inward, trying to force himself not to be afraid. The fear twisted in his stomach, gripped his joints with fiery fronds and held him still, breathed death into his mind. But he pushed it all away. He pushed again.

    He looked up at Mother and stood up straight. The fear had not left him, but he was stronger. He had to be. A dribble of urine leaked out and his knees wouldn¡¯t stop trembling. But he stood. He did not look away. He took a step forward, then another, and stopped.

    BETTER. NOW, LET US SEE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.

    Mother¡¯s enormous yellow eyes fixed on him properly and her attention hit him like a full-body slap. Her sight penetrated his skin, his mind, and parts of his being he could not name. She turned him inside out.

    Dirt felt his feet leave the ground as Mother¡¯s gaze lifted him up into the air. It held him so tightly that he felt encased in wood. He couldn¡¯t so much as twitch a finger. She twisted and pulled on invisible parts of him; parts of him that he could feel, real parts, but unseen ones. Much that she touched felt raw and painful, like the cut on his leg had.

    She turned him over in the air, slowly rotating him this way and that to examine him from every angle. Now he knew what a grub felt like when he played with it. He would have whimpered if he still had control of his own voice.

    After a few rotations, he had trouble staying conscious. Mother¡¯s examination squeezed the energy right out of him. Or, perhaps, she stretched him and it leaked out on its own. Either way, what leaked out of him was hard to understand. His ability to focus, his inner control, and more.

    She gazed into his memory and every moment he had lived flashed by in an instant. After seeing when he first woke covered in clear slime, it failed to go back any further.

    Mother¡¯s eyes flashed with orange light, and Dirt shuddered in mid-air. She examined him for a moment longer, but it was with senses that he could not perceive in any way.

    When she finally lowered him to the ground and let him go, he collapsed so hard that his face was in the dirt before he realized he¡¯d lost his balance.

    She gave him no time to recover.

    DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU?

    He tried to reply, but he lacked the mental strength to get the thought into the right place.

    Mother saw it anyway.

    YOU DO NOT. HOW INTERESTING. SUCH AN ARROGANT THING YOU ONCE WERE, AND NOW YOU ARE THIS.

    -What was he before, Mother?- thought Socks. He had thought it with words, for Dirt¡¯s sake.

    HE IS A BIT OF ANCIENT DUST BLOWN BY THE WIND AND LANDING HERE ONLY BY ACCIDENT. I HAVE AN IDEA WHAT HE WAS ATTEMPTING, BUT IN DOING SO, HE LOST EVERYTHING. HIS MEMORY, HIS PLACE AND PEOPLE. EVEN HIS TIME.

    Mother¡¯s voice was accompanied by images that explained her thoughts in greater detail. Dirt saw an outline of an adult man, indistinct but all grown up, and knew that it was himself. He felt the sensation of being among many people, living in a place for humans. Saw himself undertake a great effort, something grand and momentous and dangerous and foolish, and fail. He saw himself sucked out of the world like the juice from an egg, floating in the incomprehensible void between all things while his essence, his very self, slowly evaporated. Bit by bit, there was less and less of him, until it was almost too late.

    Finally, Dirt saw what remained catch on the flow of reality with a gentle snag. He fell back into time and place, appearing half-buried in the dirt and covered in the decay of his own self. That clear goo, the slime that he¡¯d been covered with when he first awoke and completely forgot about, was the remains of what he had been. All the memory, the learning, the flesh, even the days and years¡ªall had became nothing.

    YOU WERE RIGHT, CUB. HE IS BROKEN. I AM SURPRISED HE IS ALIVE AT ALL.

    Mother¡¯s subtext was an egg with a dozen holes, slowly leaking its juices.

    HUMAN, YOU HAVE ONE THING LEFT, AND THAT IS YOUR CORE. IT HAS GROWN AND IT CANNOT UNGROW.

    Dirt saw himself peeling away in layers. His flesh, the child he was, split apart to reveal a boy of energy, all patchy and covered with holes. It split away to reveal a boy made of something even more subtle and just as damaged, and then split again, layer after layer until an image of himself appeared that was faint as a whisper and mostly transparent, damaged as the rest. That was his spirit, he knew. That was the part that remained when a person died.

    But there was one more part inside that. His spirit split open to reveal a pinpoint of light, something subtle and eternal, something that never changed and never ceased changing. It was the deepest truth of himself, his bare consciousness. With none of the other layers, it thought without ideas, understood without knowledge or reference. But it was whole, indivisible, eternal, and it had grown.

    YOUR SCANT HUMAN YEARS GAVE YOU SOME SMALL WISDOM, AND THAT ALONE IS NOT LOST. ALL ELSE IS BROKEN: YOUR MAGIC VESSEL, YOUR DREAM SELF, ALL OF IT. YOU RETAIN NOTHING BUT A FEW OF YOUR YEARS. BUT FOR THOSE, YOU WOULD NOT EVEN HAVE FLESH.

    He lay in the warm dirt and tried to gather enough strength to push himself back up, but his joints felt watery and disconnected.

    TAKE HIM FROM HERE BEFORE FATHER RETURNS WITH MY DINNER. PUT HIM BACK WHERE YOU FOUND HIM.

    Mother¡¯s great maw closed over him, and Dirt was too enervated to feel anything but a tinge of regret that this was how he would die. But instead of swallowing him, she lifted him gently between her front teeth and put him back on Socks¡¯ back.

    Socks quickly carried Dirt up and out of the musky den, back into the startling sunlight. The cub ran back down the hill, past all his curious brothers and sisters, past the pile of bones, then a good distance into the little-tree forest before Dirt recovered enough strength in his fingers to start holding on.

    They ran for a good distance before either of them spoke. Dirt was too drained to pay attention to the scenery, which seemed like a shame. But every time he tried to focus, his mind wandered and his eyes saw nothing. His thoughts were full of wolves, full of Mother¡¯s size, her gaze. But there was nothing sensible to process, not really. He felt like he did when he was falling asleep or waking up.

    Socks, however, was tireless. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure how he did it, but he¡¯d been running for a good portion of the day without showing any sign of weariness. Carrying Dirt around didn¡¯t even seem to slow him down.

    The warm sunlight on his back helped Dirt re-energize, because by the time they reached the edge of the real forest and its canopy taller than the blue in the sky, Dirt had finally recovered.

    The first real thought he had after all that, was that Mother had said to put him back where Socks had found him, and that meant he was being abandoned. Grief poured into him, brutal and irresistible.

    But then it occurred to him that Mother had no reason to care about him. Something like Dirt was nothing to a being as great as Mother. If she didn¡¯t want Socks to ever see him again, Dirt would already be dead.

    He hugged Socks a little more tightly. Then he thought, ¡°Mother is¡­ more impressive than I imagined. Very powerful. And wise. You must be proud of her,¡± thought Dirt.

    -She is very old and very strong. So is Father, but you should be glad you didn¡¯t meet him. He has little tolerance for intruders and he probably would have killed you just for being noticed. I will be like them soon, when I grow up.-

    ¡°How come you never mentioned that you have a Father, too?¡±

    Socks didn¡¯t reply right away, and Dirt started feeling anxious that he¡¯d asked something he shouldn¡¯t have. When the pup finally answered, he seemed hesitant. -My brothers and sisters are all very young, so right now, Mother is in charge of us. She tells us the rules, and then she picks one or two every night and eats them while we¡¯re sleeping. Someday when only a few are left, Father will take us and train us. He will pick one or two to grow up and eat the rest. That is why I was nervous about Mother today. But I obeyed her, so I can live for now.-

    Dirt¡¯s horror must have leaked out, because the pup stopped running.

    Socks bristled and paced, and when he sent Dirt his thoughts, his voice was indignant and proud. -You are just a human, so I don¡¯t expect you to understand. If some of you are weak or stupid, it doesn¡¯t matter. Would anyone even notice? It doesn¡¯t change the world. But we are wolves. You saw Mother. Father is just as great. Can you imagine a weak wolf? An inferior wolf running with them, hunting with them, calling himself a worthy wolf? I could never tolerate an inferior wolf. I¡¯d be happy to die, if it meant that one wouldn¡¯t exist. I think I¡¯ll win, but maybe I won¡¯t, and I won¡¯t even feel bad about it.-

    Dirt felt properly chastened. He couldn¡¯t understand it, not without a lot more thought, but he could feel how strongly Socks believed it and that was enough. He nuzzled the good side of his face into the pup¡¯s fur, trying to apologize. ¡°I have a lot to learn about wolves. I have a lot to learn about everything. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re smart.¡±

    Socks began running again, and it seemed the pup had forgiven him, or at least moved on. -Mother said I should keep visiting you since you give good advice. But she also said that if you try to tame me, she¡¯ll kill you. I am a wolf and she will not let you make me into something else.-

    ¡°When did she say that?¡±

    -When she was looking at you. She talked to me during that. She can talk to all of us at the same time if she wants.-

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know what taming means, so I wasn¡¯t going to try.¡±

    After being out in the sunlight, the real forest seemed darker than he remembered, but that calm, eternal atmosphere was the same. The humid air that hung heavy and pressed down on him, the silent ferns and trees so tall that the sun had to go around them. Dirt was relieved not to have open sky above him anymore¡ªnow he could get rid of the nagging feeling that he might just fall up into the sky if he turned the wrong way.

    Soon enough, they¡¯d be back at Home, and Socks would leave, and Dirt would spend the night huddled alone in his little hole. He suddenly couldn¡¯t stop thinking about all the wolf pups cuddled up with Mother to sleep, all warm and snug and happy. It was very different from what Dirt got.

    ¡°Socks, are there other humans in the world? Do you know?¡±

    -Mother said they were pests, so there must be some somewhere. But I don¡¯t know where. Why? Do you want to go live with them?-

    Dirt panicked, unsure how he felt. But he thought, ¡°Maybe someday, but not now. Maybe when we¡¯re both grown up, I¡¯ll go be a human, and you¡¯ll be a wolf. Right now, you¡¯re a puppy and I¡¯m a child. And I don¡¯t¡­¡±

    He paused, almost embarrassed to say what he was thinking, but it needed to be said. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to die. I don¡¯t want Mother to eat you. It makes me sick just thinking about it. You¡¯re my first and best and only friend, so I¡¯ll stay as long as you want me to. Besides, carrying me around will make you stronger, right?¡±

    Socks sent him a hint of amusement. -You aren¡¯t very heavy.-

    ¡°Well, then maybe I¡¯ll just have to get as strong as a wolf so we can train together.¡±

    -Not likely.-

    Dirt giggled. ¡°Can you even imagine?¡±

    The rest of the run to Home was full of mirth and rapid conversation. The two of them were swept up in the most wild imaginings. They hardly even used words; they sent direct images of ridiculous things like Dirt jumping higher than Socks could, or Socks drinking a whole river and peeing it out somewhere else. By the time Socks knelt to let Dirt slide off, the day was already starting to dim and Dirt felt warm inside and out. The day had been just as terrifying as all the others, but Socks licked him on the face and made him laugh, and that was all his heart needed to recover.

    But before Socks left, the pup perked his ears up and stood alert. After a moment, he said, -Mother says to take you somewhere tomorrow. She says it will be good practice for me to try to keep you alive.-

    ¡°Where?¡±

    -You¡¯ll see tomorrow.-

    ¡°Should I be scared?¡±

    -Probably.-

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow. I hope we can stay together for a really long time. And please tell Mother thank you for what she told me. I was too tired to say it before. I think it was an honor for someone like her to even notice me, let alone tell me things I wanted to know. So please tell her thank you. Good night, Socks. See you tomorrow.¡±

    -Sleep well, little human. Little Dirt.-

    Dirt crawled into his den and collapsed, falling asleep before he even quit moving.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 9

    Dirt¡¯s dreams were troubled, full of ferocious beasts and blood and death. Monsters of shadow fought monsters of sunlight, and Dirt kept getting tossed upward into the empty blue sky to fall for eternity. He woke several times during the night, sweating and scared, injured face aching terribly, but each time, the rhythmic vibrations reminded him that he was safe, resting comfortably under Home where nothing could get him. He reached up, ran his fingers along the rough bark until the tree¡¯s calm became his own, and went back to sleep.

    The last dream of the night stayed with him long after he woke, though. He dreamed that he couldn¡¯t stay on the ground, that the earth would not hold his feet even though he was in the forest. Screaming in terror, he was flung helplessly across the unfathomable distance between the canopy and the ferns. Never reaching top or bottom, unable to control his flight, and all his screaming couldn¡¯t save him.

    Then the tree entered his dream¡ªthat was the only way he could describe it. The nightmare filled with senses he didn¡¯t have, perceiving a world they were unsuited for. The tree dream and the nightmare were only superimposed for a moment before the whole thing collapsed and jolted him awake, but he remembered that moment in vivid detail for several minutes afterward.

    The tree¡¯s mind had seen him, he was certain; or perhaps, it might be more accurate to say it had seen his dream. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure if the tree even knew he was there, or could understand him any better than he understood it.

    He learned a bit, though, in that brief moment. Home didn¡¯t have any perception of distance, not like he did. It didn¡¯t know anything about up or down, forward or back. All it knew was the strength of its perceptions. If Dirt hadn¡¯t seen the wolves talking in scents, he might never have realized that so much of what Home did or saw was similar. Not really smells, but something close to that. It saw the world with ten thousand tongues, noses, fingertips, all at the same time. Maybe that was the leaves? Or part of it was leaves, and some the roots or bark? If only he could understand more, like what the tree knew as sunlight or water, earth and air, he might see what it wanted to say.

    He lay for a moment, trying to reach out with his mind, to talk to Home like he talked to Socks. He touched the root again, imagining himself merging and going inside, rising up the bark to find wherever the tree¡¯s Self was centered, if it even was. Nothing came to him. No thoughts, no feelings.

    -Come out, little Dirt,- sent Socks.

    Dirt scrambled to his hands and knees and crawled up out of his hole. The fog still lay thick and heavy, and he couldn¡¯t see more than ten paces in any direction.

    ¡°Socks?¡±

    -I am almost there. I am glad you are awake because I want to hurry and go there.-

    ¡°Where are we going? Can I drink some water and eat something first?¡±

    Without waiting for an answer, Dirt darted to a spot where he hadn¡¯t dug for grubs yet and started tearing up the rich, black soil. The humidity brought out the scent of it even more than usual, filling his nose with that comforting, pleasant aroma. But when he smelled it, instead of just enjoying it, it just reminded him of the tree. Had it been trying to understand him? Did he get tangled up in its dreams?

    He found a grub, long as his finger and squirming energetically, and only chewed it two or three times before swallowing. He frantically dug until he found another, and another, and ate those too. Then he pulled all the baby ferns he could find and swallowed them as fast as he could.

    Socks¡¯ big wet nose poked him across his whole bottom.

    Dirt screamed and jumped into the air, but he was laughing by the time he hit the ground, and Socks was sending him plenty of amusement as well, in his mild way.

    ¡°I even knew you were coming! I feel silly now. I need to learn to keep a better eye out.¡±

    -You are lucky I am not a goblin.-

    ¡°No chance. Those are too noisy. Boy! Meat! Come, Boy!¡± He mimicked one and stomped around.

    Socks¡¯ face couldn¡¯t smile, but it didn¡¯t matter, because Dirt could tell how he felt anyway. He patted him on the nose, then stepped in closer to hug him around the snout.

    ¡°Can I get just a little more water before we go?¡±

    -There will be plenty. You can drink later.-

    ¡°Do you know where we¡¯re going?¡±

    -Yes.-

    ¡°Can I ask you something? Can you teach me how to hear thoughts? I can only hear the ones you send me on purpose. And I¡¯m not sure if I can think them TO someone or not, or if you¡¯re just always watching.¡±

    Socks tilted his head. -You don¡¯t know how? You are asking me how to smell with my nose, even though you have a little one of your own. You just sniff to smell, and you just¡ª

    The image that came next into Dirt¡¯s mind gave him a mild headache. Socks simply opened a part of himself that Dirt had never known existed or even imagined, but knowing it could open now filled his bony skull with sparks. It was right there, plastered over, stuck shut, and the more he thought about it the more it ached to open but was unable.

    Socks sent the image again with a little more force, and it hurt like his swollen eye did, and was closed just as tight. But right then, now that he was thinking about it, his injured eye popped open. He blinked a few times and the vision returned. It was sore and blurry and wouldn¡¯t open the whole way, but it was still there and it still worked. Dirt tried to use that feeling to open the new part, but it wouldn¡¯t budge.

    -Silly little Dirt, like this, right here.- The giant pup raised one of his paws and tapped Dirt on the top of his head with a claw, and his mind split open with a fleshy ripping sound that he might not have imagined.

    His mental world filled with countless lights, each of them a bundle of awareness, a mind. At first it was deeply disorienting, but Socks sent him more thoughts that helped him organize and sooth it.

    Most of the minds were too small to even look at, but Socks stood out like a little sun. The pup was doing it on purpose, too, thinking extra loud but not directing it his way.

    -Can you hear me, little human? You can, can¡¯t you?-

    ¡°Yes! Wow¡­¡± Dirt turned in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. It felt a bit like the tree-dream; he couldn¡¯t say where anything was. He couldn¡¯t point and know there was a grub there or anything like that. There was a sense of distance, but no direction at all. It was a whole different world than he was used to, and trying to superimpose it on what he saw just made him dizzy.

    -If you had a mother, this would have been the first thing she taught you, before you even crawled up to nurse. Don¡¯t worry if you are still unsteady. It is something you have to work on. Even I can¡¯t hear very well if you¡¯re not trying to let me hear.-

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The little thoughts all around him were made to fit in a world that suited what they were¡ªferns had fern thoughts, and trees had tree thoughts. Trees he could recognize, if only for the increasingly-familiar flavor of their incomprehensibility. It would take him a very, very long time to make sense of any of it.

    ¡°Oh! Socks, can you see goblin thoughts? Can I use this to know if any are around?¡±

    -Of course, if you pay attention. They are like this,- thought Socks. He sent an image of primal simplicity; basic, but mostly understandable. Plans with only one or two steps. Hunger, fear, anger. This must be how Socks knew they couldn¡¯t really understand words. He could see what was going on their minds.

    Dirt could use this to survive! This was real strength¡ªstrength to live by his own power, not at the mercy of everything around him. It was only a start, and it wasn¡¯t as good as giant claws, but it was something. He wasn¡¯t completely helpless anymore.

    He grinned, sending Socks every bit of what he was feeling, but it quickly got emotional as he started thinking how lucky he was, how incredible this new mental vision was. He might have gone his whole life without knowing.

    Tears came to his eyes and a lump formed in his throat. ¡°Thanks, Socks,¡± he thought, reaching up to pat the pup¡¯s belly, since that was all he could reach.

    -I thought you were thirsty but you are leaking water,- said Socks. -Just kidding. I know why you are doing that. You¡¯re welcome. Now get on. Mother said to go play in the water. My task is to keep you alive, but that seems easy.-

    That got his attention. ¡°Now? What about the fog? Can you see where you¡¯re going?¡±

    -I¡¯ll be fine. I can use a different sight when I need to. Get on.-

    Socks squatted down so Dirt could climb up, and he did. The pup instantly burst into a run, so fast Dirt nearly slipped and got left behind. He giggled and held on tighter, and they were off.

    Dirt couldn¡¯t see a thing through the fog, so he tried to pay attention to all the minds as they ran. He hoped to spot Home by how it faded, since there was size but no direction, but it wasn¡¯t the only tree they were leaving behind.

    It should have been scary, going so fast without being able to see anything. But it wasn¡¯t. If anything, it just made him aware how smoothly Socks ran. The pup¡¯s enormous muscles pounded a rhythm beneath him that was so regular and balanced Dirt felt like he could dance and not fall off.

    -Mother said we must learn how to swim,- said Socks. -She told me the place to go. The water is deep there and we will jump in and pull ourselves across. But you have to be careful, because if you do it wrong you will sink to the bottom and run out of air and die.-

    ¡°How do you do that? How do you pull yourself across?¡±

    -Mother said it¡¯s easy for wolves, but not for humans. She said if you can¡¯t figure it out then you¡¯re not smart enough.-

    ¡°I can do it!¡± thought Dirt, before he¡¯d really had time to consider what that might entail. But it didn¡¯t matter¡ªno matter how hard it was, he would do it. He steeled himself, body and soul.

    -I hope so. You are fun and no one else has a pet human.-

    ¡°Really. I can do it. Mother wouldn¡¯t say I had to unless it was possible. If she wanted to get rid of me, she could just kill me or tell you to stop coming. Mother knows I can do it, or at least that I should be able to. So I will. And we¡¯ll do the next thing, and the next thing, until you¡¯re the strongest, best wolf, and I¡¯m the strongest, best human, so we can stay friends.¡±

    Socks kept his silence for a moment. Dirt could just barely see enough of the pup¡¯s thoughts to know he¡¯d never considered that Mother was that careful. -You are clever for a little baby. I am lucky I found you.-

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m way more lucky than you are,¡± said Dirt, trying for the first time to hide a thought¡ªhis next sentence.

    It must have worked, because Socks turned his head briefly, which made the soft tips of his ears flap in the wind. -Why is that?-

    ¡°Because my best friend is a giant wolf who could win against anything, and yours is a little human who can¡¯t even fight a goblin. You better keep me around so more of my luck rubs off on you.¡±

    -The only thing of yours that rubs off on me is dirt.-

    ¡°That¡¯s the luck. I¡¯m covered in it.¡±

    -Well, you won¡¯t be after we play in the water. You won¡¯t have any dirt left but I hope I do. If I lose my Dirt I¡¯ll lose my luck as well.-

    Socks surprised him with a mighty leap. Dirt yelped and held tight, enjoying the excitement rushing in his veins. It was uncanny in mid-air, where there was nothing to see but pale gray in every direction, even down; but then came the fall he always felt pressing against his insides.

    Dirt squealed in terror that was only mostly fake, then laughed when they finally hit the ground. Socks sent his own amusement at how easy it was to please his little pet. The pup never seemed to laugh, and maybe that was just an emotion wolves didn¡¯t have, but amusement was close enough.

    Socks ran until the fog faded and disappeared into the late morning. The forest vanished behind them to reveal vast plains of deep grass that glowed a dusty yellow-green in the sunlight. The pup crossed the fields in giant leaps, since that was easier than trying to push through the grass.

    They came to a dark, clear river cutting through the landscape, wide and full. It ran quickly but the surface was smooth, making it seem plenty deep. It was almost silent compared to the smaller one that Socks had him drink from yesterday. Socks stepped up to peer into it, and Dirt wondered for a moment if this was where they were stopping. But it wasn¡¯t, and Socks turned to run alongside the river as it cut a mostly straight course across the plains.

    After going a little farther, the grasses grew shorter as the landscape began the change. It was much less flat here; instead, it was dotted with small hills that were barely big enough to be lumps. Some were long and straight, but most were smaller and much more limited. Grass still hid every inch of ground, but it was short enough for Socks to run through.

    The sun was a third of the way across the sky, hot and bright, before Socks stopped at their destination.

    It was another place of men; Dirt knew that instantly. The deep, quiet river ended at an enormous basin, mostly square and lined with cut stone. The lip of the basin was at ground level and the river simply disappeared into it without making much sound. From one end to the other, the basin was dotted with regularly-spaced stone pillars that came up to almost exactly water level, making a path that Socks could probably jump across. They were too far for Dirt, but maybe he could swim between them once he learned how.

    -Mother says this is not a real lake. This is a place that men made, and it broke a very long time ago and filled in. The real lakes nearby are shallow unless you walk way out toward their middle, and that is too much hassle so we will learn to swim right here.-

    Dirt slid off without Socks lowering for him, landing perfectly. He was getting better at that. He got down on hands and knees and crawled to the lip of the basin. He carefully leaned his head over to look down into the water, making sure his arms were planted firmly so he didn¡¯t fall in on accident.

    The water was clear and deep, deep enough that even Mother might not have been able to stand up in it. The bottom was covered with broken stones, large flat ones. In between them all, sand and mud and strange plants grew, but looking at it again¡­

    Dirt jumped up and pointed excitedly. ¡°Socks, look. I think there was a floor here once, and it was hollow underneath, and it all crashed down and caved in. The sides of the lake where it¡¯s flat and square must have been the walls of the room under there. It was so huge! How did little things like me make something this big?¡±

    The giant pup silently padded over to peer in the water. -I don¡¯t know. Maybe it took a lot of them, or maybe they could use magic.-

    ¡°Magic?¡± That was a word he¡¯d never used, but it felt like a pleasant word, one he had liked before.

    -I don¡¯t know how else they would have done it. I think ten of you couldn¡¯t lift one of those stones. Maybe human adults are stronger.-

    ¡°No, I mean, what¡¯s magic?¡±

    Socks sent him a puff of amusement. -One thing at a time, little Dirt. You just learned how to listen, and now you need to learn how to swim before we disappoint Mother.-

    Dirt supposed that made sense. He stood and ran a short distance along the rim, growing more and more impressed with the size of the basin. What had it been? Did people walk here before?

    At the far end of the basin, he noticed a mound that seemed suspiciously large, but it was quite a distance to get over there so he just peered at it from across the lake. It might have been a building once, or maybe just a little hill. It looked like there might be an opening there, under the water level where the extra water from the river drained out. If so, where was all that water going?

    He looked back at the spot where the river entered the lake, and it wasn¡¯t a small amount. It had to be going somewhere. But was it? The water atop the basin seemed so calm, he wasn¡¯t sure it was moving at all.

    ¡°Socks, do you know where water goes? Does it all come up from the ground, and go back down?¡±

    -Mother says the water comes from the rain.-

    ¡°What¡¯s rain?¡±

    -It¡¯s when water falls from the sky. I saw it once when I was a week old. I didn¡¯t like it.-

    Dirt shot a panicked look up at the sky.

    -Only when there are clouds. Thick, gray ones, not like that little white one over there. Dark ones covering the whole sky.-

    ¡°Oh. Okay. I¡¯ll try not to stand under any clouds.¡±

    -It¡¯s not about where you¡¯re standing, unless you¡¯re standing under something to keep dry. You¡¯ll see someday,- thought Socks. He sounded amused again. -For now, drink some water, but not too much. Then we shall swim.-

 Ancient Things - Chapter 10

    Dirt stuck his hand into the water and found it colder than he would prefer. ¡°You go first,¡± he told Socks.

    The giant pup jumped right over him, blanketing him in shadow as he passed. Socks hit the water with a tremendous splash and hardly sank at all before his head and neck popped back up out of the water. He traveled in a narrow circle, then dunked under the water again only to pop up a moment later a few paces away.

    -It¡¯s easier than I thought. It¡¯s the same motion as running. Just keep your legs moving. Come, Dirt, jump in and swim with me.- Socks sounded a bit more proud of himself than usual. He was always confident, except regarding Mother, but Dirt suspected he¡¯d been a little nervous.

    Dirt was certainly nervous. He had no idea what to expect. ¡°You have to pull me out if I sink so I don¡¯t die. I¡¯ll try over and over until I figure it out, but promise.¡±

    -Do you think Mother will mind if I help you?-

    ¡°She told me to learn to swim, not to die. And she said to keep me alive. Will you come a little closer, just in case?¡±

    -You will be fine. Jump in.-

    ¡°How long does it take to die if I sink?¡±

    -Just hold your breath until you come back up. You can hold your breath, right?-

    ¡°Yes, but¡ª¡°

    -I will toss you in if you do not jump yourself.-

    Dirt scowled at Socks, treading water like there was nothing to it. He just paddled his paws placidly and hardly moved. He seemed awfully smug for someone who¡¯d never done it before right now.

    Well, this was the price of being friends with a wolf. Courage, Dirt. He took a few steps back, trying to make his legs stop quivering by an act of willpower. It didn¡¯t work.

    He ran forward, looking at the horizon instead of the water so he wouldn¡¯t get scared and stop, but as a result, he misjudged by one step and collapsed into the water rather than jump. He hardly had time to shriek before he hit the water and sank.

    The sudden cold shocked his system. His whole body locked up, it felt like, even though he was desperately waving his arms and legs.

    Looking up, Dirt saw the outline of the sun through the water, but everything was hazy and it hurt his eyes. He saw enough to know he was sinking, though. The deeper he got, the harder the water pressed his ears.

    Dirt kicked his legs in a running motion like Socks had said, but it didn¡¯t work. He didn¡¯t swim. Panic set in. His lungs burned from lack of air. He shouldn¡¯t have shrieked.

    He flailed his arms, clawing for the surface. He kicked his legs. He twisted his body. Nothing worked. ¡°Help!¡± he cried out in desperation.

    Socks appeared beneath him and Dirt grabbed on. Socks swam upward and only a heartbeat later, they were out of the water. Dirt gasped and spluttered, inhaling as hard as he could to sooth the burning in his lungs. It went away quickly, thank Grace.

    ¡°Thanks. I can do it. I just need to keep trying,¡± thought Dirt with confidence he didn¡¯t feel. Dirt had serious doubts that humans could swim after how that had gone, but he made himself stand up on the wolf¡¯s back and get ready for another jump. He paused, trying to catch the rest of his breath.

    -Try running like a wolf, not a human. Lean forward. Actually, get down on your hands and feet now, and I¡¯ll let you down slowly.-

    Dirt knelt forward as instructed. Socks let his back sink, and the cold water rose slowly enough for Dirt to make peace with it. And besides, Socks was right there.

    Just as his head was about to go under, Dirt moved like a wolf running on all fours and miraculously, he didn¡¯t sink. Gods in Glory, he was doing it! It took all his effort, but Dirt paddled as hard as he could in the direction of the basin wall and when his nose was an inch away, he shot his hands forward and grabbed on.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°I did it!¡± he shouted aloud, then repeated it right after in his mind for Socks. Then he gave a long howl of triumph, which Socks found amusing. The pup joined in, and his howl was much louder and longer. But he had bigger lungs.

    Dirt held the stone edge with one arm and wiped the water out of his eyes with the other hand. He swished his legs back and forth, feeling how the water moved against them. The chill of the water was wearing off, making it easier to breathe.

    Socks was eager to keep playing, however. He sank back under the pellucid water and swam all the way to the bottom, then jumped upward, pointing with his nose. He flew out of the water with another big splash, one that might have sank Dirt if he¡¯d been closer. Socks soared high in the air for a moment, then fell back into the water with another huge splash, closer this time, which made waves that smacked Dirt against the wall.

    Dirt laughed, suddenly enthused. He climbed out, got a running start, and jumped out into the water as far as he could. He swam in an arc, ending back up at the edge.

    They played separately for a bit. Dirt practiced swimming and found it was easier if he slowed down and tried to push the water instead of hitting it. Socks swam and jumped and flew every direction over the basin. Sometimes he leaped from sunken pillar to sunken pillar, landing with perfect balance every time. Once he noticed Dirt farther out in the water and fell out of the sky right next to him, creating a wave that tossed the little human ten paces away.

    That was so much fun that Dirt insisted on being thrown a few more times, and the best was when he balanced on Socks¡¯ snout and let the pup simply toss him. Not too high, though, because it hurt a little when he came back down. That was good practice for both of them.

    Socks said, -I bet I can swim across without taking a breath. I¡¯ll swim under the water. Watch.-

    Dirt swam to the closest pillar and climbed up onto it to sit in the sunlight, surrounded by calm, deep water on all sides. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m watching!¡±

    Socks reached one end of the basin and said, -Here I go.- He swam down to the bottom and kicked off the wall, hurtling forward.

    When he reached the middle, Dirt sensed confusion coming from him. The pup suddenly started moving sideways.

    -The water is pushing me¡­-

    The pup turned and struggled against the water, but the flow was too strong and it pushed him farther and farther.

    -I can¡¯t get a grip on the ground!- said Socks with a burst of fear. The pup struggled in earnest, but there was simply too much strength behind the current.

    Dirt jumped in and swam to the next pillar, but he was too slow. Socks was getting farther away.

    The current was pushing Socks toward the far end of the basin, near that lump or hill or whatever it was, where the water seemed to drain out. Dirt sensed the pup¡¯s growing desperation, his lack of air, his fear at being helpless, unable to move by his own power.

    Suddenly, the giant pup seemed very, very young. Without all that confidence, Socks was just a little child, like him.

    ¡°Fight, Socks! Swim hard! You have to!¡± screamed Dirt mentally as panic set in.

    The giant pup¡¯s lungs ached for air. Dirt could feel his determination to keep his mouth shut, but it was getting harder by the second. The wolf¡¯s chest throbbed, his own muscles fighting against him.

    -I can do this! I am stronger!- said Socks in a mental shout that wasn¡¯t aimed at anything. The pup¡¯s desperate resolve was almost too much and Dirt had to fight not to get swallowed up in panic. It made him want to scream or cry or both.

    For a moment, Socks kept pace against the current, but his strength diminished by degrees, and he slowly moved back.

    -I need air! It hurts!-

    Dirt stood and looked in every direction, wide-eyed and terrified. What could he do? What could he do!? The water came in from the river and sank right there at the mouth, leaving water calm all around it. It must be going under there, and then running all along the bottom to the other end where it drained. Could it do that? Could part of the water move and not the rest?

    Socks¡¯ emotions were firing out in every direction¡ªrage, panic, frustration, desperation. The pup was getting weaker. Dirt could feel his pain, his weakening legs and the fire in his lungs, the strain not to inhale water. And fear. Fear of the black pit he was moving toward, slowly, surely.

    Then it stuck him. Dirt screamed mentally, ¡°Swim sideways! Swim to the side, not forward! Please, Socks, you can do it!¡±

    Socks replied with a single bundle of wordless thought: if he swam sideways, the water would carry him away faster and he would be lost in the cavern.

    Dirt sent back a hasty image of the water making one long, underwater stream that ran from the river to the drain, and Socks jumping out of it to the side.

    With nothing left to try, Socks made one last effort and turned to the side, swimming forward with what little strength remained in him. Even at this distance, Dirt saw the moment he burst out of the current. One moment Socks was being dragged helplessly along, and the next he was swimming upward at top speed.

    The pup¡¯s nose finally broke the surface and Socks exhaled and inhaled so hard that Dirt heard gusts of wind.

    Dirt swam as fast as he could to try and help, but it wasn¡¯t very fast. Long before he could get close, Socks made his way to a pillar and rested his head on it, breathing heavily. Dirt could feel the pup¡¯s heavy relief, his shock at having been challenged by something so simple as water. Just water.

    The panic of the moment faded, and they both began to let their minds calm down and process what had just happened.

    -So much for keeping you alive,- said Socks, amused.

    ¡°Maybe next time she needs to mention keeping yourself alive,¡± said Dirt, grinning mentally.

    But then a new mind appeared, and both he and Socks saw it at the same time. An old one, a large one, and not far away. Likely it was in that hole where the water went. Deep inside that blackness, something had awoken and become aware of them.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 11

    Maybe the danger was never the water at all. Socks and Dirt looked at each other, then at the dark pit the water fell into with a dull roar, watching in growing dread to see what would come out of it.

    The mysterious creature¡¯s thoughts were disjointed and confusing, resembling little either of them were familiar with. It didn¡¯t think in pictures, or even emotions¡ªjust raw awareness. Motion without intent.

    -I don¡¯t like it. It doesn¡¯t think with its mind.- said Socks.

    ¡°Me neither. Do you think it knows we¡¯re here?¡± asked Dirt, even though it obviously did. He pulled himself out of the water and looked around. He was only two pillars away from the edge of the basin, and four away from Socks. He wished he could swim faster. Or run on top of the water. Or jump twenty paces to hop from pillar to pillar.

    -Hold still,- said Socks, insistent.

    Dirt immediately froze, even holding his breath for a moment.

    They both watched the creature¡¯s thoughts, trying to make sense of them. It had flashes of awareness, things that might be distance or shape or texture, but it was even worse than the trees. The trees had a rhythm to their thoughts, a connection from one thing to the next. Dirt felt like he might be able to understand it someday, but not this. There were too many gaps, too much emptiness, and the thoughts that crossed its mind told him absolutely nothing.

    -Hide your thoughts, just in case. Keep holding still.-

    Dirt tried his hardest to shut his mind, but he¡¯d only tried it for an instant here or there and needed more practice. Socks¡¯ thoughts disappeared, the burning light of his mind completely vanishing.

    His eye caught motion down there and he peered as hard as he could. Something thin waved frantically, just beyond the edge of the light. Then another, then twenty.

    A mass of writhing tentacles of pale, slimy brown wiggled out of the dark opening. Hundreds of them. They spun and twisted around each other in a display that turned Dirt¡¯s stomach. They were all connected at the back end to a featureless creature as tall as Socks, but completely round and much fatter. It had four thick, stumpy legs that it hardly seemed to use.

    The thing slid from the opening like it was being squeezed out. It was only visibly for an instant before it slithered forward into the water.

    Dirt felt more exposed than he ever had in his life. Right out in the open on the very top of a stone pillar no wider than he was tall, and nowhere to go but in the water with¡­ that. There was no hiding beneath the hot, insistent sun. It seemed to be shining extra hard right on him so everything would know where he was.

    Socks wasted no time. Still panting, he pulled himself up onto the pillar he¡¯d been resting his head on, standing precariously for only a moment before he leaped across toward Dirt. First one pillar, then the next.

    Dirt turned sideways and bent over so Socks could catch him in his mouth and keep moving. He stood at the farthest edge of the pillar and watched the clear, deep water for any hint of motion.

    Socks landed only one pillar away, then jumped again. Dirt held his breath, bracing for impact.

    The giant pup gave only the briefest yelp as he was grabbed out of the air by a bundle of tentacles and yanked under water.

    Dirt jumped to the other side of the pillar and tried to see under the water, but the splash made it impossible to see clearly. Only a few feet beneath the surface, Socks thrashed wildly. Bursts of red made clouds that fogged the view even further.

    ¡°Socks!¡± he screamed in despair, both aloud and in his mind. ¡°Socks!¡± His whole body shook as he edged helplessly toward the water, wishing he could do anything at all.

    The wolf pup¡¯s snout surfaced for just an instant, long enough to suck some air into his mighty lungs. Two bloody tentacles writhed in his teeth, and Socks bit and turned his head, ripping one off and tearing the other wide open.

    It pulled him back under. Socks gave up trying to hide his thoughts and Dirt was hit with a flash of ferocity that he was unready for, primal and raw.

    The pup¡¯s thoughts leaped from focus to perfect focus. Bite here. Pull that. Rip. Bite. Claw. Socks¡¯ thoughts cycled too fast for Dirt to follow, reminding him once again what it meant for Socks to be a wolf and Dirt to be a human.

    ¡°O Gods, O ye Gods¡­¡± muttered Dirt in desperation, but he didn¡¯t know what should follow, or what gods were. He knew it was a cry from deep in his heart, and that was all.

    The thing seemed to be slowly dragging Socks down deeper and deeper, grabbing here and there for only a moment to pull then letting go before Socks could get his teeth on the tentacle. Bit by bit, it was winning. Socks was already tired and was running out of air again.

    ¡°Try jumping! Off the pillar, or the ground! You can get away!¡±

    -It¡¯s not so easy,- sent Socks, in a single, instant puff of thought.

    Dirt¡¯s mind raced. He had to do something. ¡°Okay, brace yourself. Ready, set¡ª!¡±

    He jumped into the water, arms and legs stretched out to make the biggest splash he could. A distraction¡ªthat was all he could offer. As soon as he hit the water, he scrambled back to the pillar, and utter terror propelled him back up quicker than he expected. No sooner had he rolled onto the flat wet stone than five tentacles shot up out of the water, right where he had been. Dirt rolled to the far edge and twisted as they slapped down, feeling around for him.

    It was enough, and a moment later Socks flew up out of the water, toward the edge of the basin. Bits of tentacle fell off him. His handsome gray fur was streaked with wet, muted red.

    He missed the nearest pillar by only a body length, but the tentacles it grabbed him with were too extended to pull him back under. Socks got three of his paws on the lip of the pillar and pulled himself up.

    That left Dirt alone on this pillar, dangerous water all around him and no way to escape. He lay as flat as he could. From what Dirt could discern of its thoughts, it knew he was there, but he couldn¡¯t tell anything else. Dread squeezed him, crushing his chest and driving out all the air in a slow whimper. The water all around fell quiet as the waves from Socks¡¯ splashing faded and vanished.

    -I want to lure it out. I want to kill it.-

    Dirt hated that idea. His whole body jolted in reaction. He wanted nothing more than to get away, far away, as fast as possible.

    ¡°How?¡±

    -I don¡¯t know.-

    Dirt¡¯s mind filled with helpless anger, which might have been simple panic. He had no idea how to lure it either. No knowledge of the monster, no understanding of anything. He was just going to die for no reason. One slap from a tentacle¡ªthat¡¯s all it would take.

    These emotions, this lack of focus, would not save him. As if by instinct, or perhaps long practice in the life he¡¯d lost, he schooled his thoughts. He gave up on hopelessness and focused on the situation. If Socks wanted to kill it, then Dirt would help him. What were they, if they couldn¡¯t trust each other?

    The creature¡¯s thoughts remained empty, devoid of any planning or meaning or anything that could be considered proper thought. Just awareness. An image of the full shape of the basin, and where Dirt and Socks were. The image didn¡¯t stay constant, not quite; it had to refresh every heartbeat or so.

    Only one thing helped¡ªDirt knew right where it was. Right there, in the center of its image of the basin. He sent the thought to Socks, in case he missed it. Then he asked, ¡°Can you push a pillar on it? Maybe if you kick it sideways when you jump off¡ª¡°

    -It will fall too slowly. The water will slow it down.-

    ¡°Okay. Well, even if it¡¯s slow, it¡¯ll have to move away, right? Jump to that pillar, then this one, and pick me up and knock it over at the same time.¡±

    -When I get close, stand up and jump in my mouth. I won¡¯t have time to reach. And take a big breath because if it pulls us under you will be glad you did.-

    ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±

    Socks and Dirt sent mental pictures of the plan back and forth in a single instant, and they had the same idea.

    It was time. Socks jumped, and no sooner had he crossed the edge of the water than several thin tentacles shot out to grab him. Socks was ready and twisted in the air to bite one and sever it. The others winced away.

    He landed flawlessly on the next pillar over, then jumped again. This time the creature below didn¡¯t attack, at least not immediately. Its awareness shifted. It was moving.

    ¡°It¡¯s coming!¡± thought Dirt, getting ready to jump.

    -I know.-

    Socks landed just to the side of the pillar, pushing the edge with all four paws. Dirt took the deepest breath he could and dove headfirst into Socks¡¯ mouth. He only got in about stomach deep, leaving the rest of him to flail in the air, but at least Socks caught him with his tongue and not his teeth. The pup spun in place and kicked off.

    The creature was rising rapidly. Its tentacles slapped out of the water and flailed. This time it wasn¡¯t a grab.

    Socks turned in the air to avoid attacks that Dirt was not in a position to see, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Dirt heard at least four heavy thuds. Their minds were so close he felt the Pup¡¯s rush of pain in his own body.

    They landed a few paces past the lip of the basin and Socks tossed Dirt farther out of the way in a bruised, graceless heap.

    Dirt lurched quickly to his feet and started moving away, but he turned before getting far. Socks¡¯ fur all stood on end and he started making a growl so low that Dirt felt it in his chest.

    The monster was already halfway out of the water, and as it pulled its bulk from the basin, Dirt finally got a good look at it. It was all brown and gray, like the decaying stuff at the bottom of the water basin. And it was big, too¡ªas tall as Socks at the shoulder but thicker and heavier, perhaps stronger. Its torso was featureless and round, with four fat legs and a stubby, motionless tail. It had no head, or even a neck¡ªa convulsing, knotted mass of hundreds of tentacles took their place. No face, no mouth.

    The tentacles snapped all at once to fling the water off, then unknotted fully and stretched out to fill the air. It stepped forward with a deep thud.

    -If I turn to run, it will attack. I must fight. You must get away.-

    ¡°I¡¯ll help!¡±

    -How, silly human?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know yet!¡±

    Socks stood gingerly on his back leg. He was already bleeding heavily from several places, but Dirt had no time to feel guilt or pity before the onslaught began anew.

    Several tentacles withdrew and shot out. Socks leaped to the side, but his injured hind leg slowed him down just enough to get him struck. The barbed end of a tentacle opened the skin from nose to ear, right over the eye.

    Socks snapped his jaws and caught it as it pulled back and ripped it off. The spray of blood mixed with his own and dripped down his bared fangs.

    Dirt ran, but not away. He ran sideways, trying to keep at the edge of its range and circle around it. The creature might not have trouble keeping track of him; it had no face, let alone eyes. But it was better than nothing. He still had no idea what he could do, but he¡¯d find something. He had to.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Tentacles near the back of the slithering mass bunched up. Dirt shouted ¡°Dodge!¡± with his voice and mind together.

    Socks almost jumped away in time. Almost. Two tentacles spun at the end and slapped his front shoulder, knocking him to the side. The pup kept his feet.

    -Not fast enough,- said Socks, angry.

    ¡°What can I do?¡± asked Dirt desperately.

    -I don¡¯t know. Dodge!-

    Dirt obeyed before he saw the attack coming and dove forward at an angle just in time for two tentacles to puncture the air inches above him. Only being so small saved him. He rolled to the side and jumped to his feet again, eyes wide to watch for more.

    It attacked them both at the same time. In their haste to warn each other, neither were ready. It grabbed Dirt around the ankle and pulled him off his feet, and only a lucky flinch kept a second tentacle from splitting his skull open. He still got a good crack above the ear, which turned his already-injured face bones into pure agony.

    Before he could even see straight, Dirt pulled himself forward with all his strength, then doubled over and grabbed the tentacle with both hands. It was about as thick as his wrist with a soft, slimy surface that slid over whatever was inside, making it hard to keep his grip. He tore into it with his teeth, fueled by Socks¡¯ fury.

    Blood filled his mouth, mixing with the slime and turning his empty stomach. He ripped and tore, and bit again. The tentacle tried to pull back, but Dirt bit even harder, so hard he was afraid he¡¯d crack his teeth. He tore and bit deeper, and deeper, and finally ripped it in half. He accidentally swallowed a little and had to fight to keep from retching.

    Dirt scrambled back and rolled to the side, then stood and kept moving. The creature¡¯s focus was not on him, however. It kept a majority of its tentacles extended in a thick, uneven circle and slammed then down at Socks from every angle, trying to finally bring him down.

    The pup was barely hanging on. He bit clean through three tentacles wrapped around his front legs at the cost of two heavy strikes against his ribs, and Dirt felt the pain flash in his mind each time. The pup¡¯s fur was red and pink now as much as gray. Blood dripped from the longer fur on his belly.

    Somehow, the creature knew where Socks and Dirt were looking. It knew to attack from the periphery. It was only a single thing, but it had them both surrounded.

    Dirt quickly stepped back, trying to get just out of the thing¡¯s reach. As he went, he tried to open more and more of his mind to Socks, to share everything he saw, every motion of every tentacle from an angle the desperate wolf couldn¡¯t see.

    Socks did the same. The pup sent everything in one steady stream, every scent and sight and sound. Dirt received it all and learned how to send more of himself, with greater clarity.

    The dual streams of pure thought kept both of them alive for another few heartbeats. The creature shot out another bundle of tentacles for each of them and this time, finally, they saw them in time to move. Dirt was a small target, and Socks was uncannily quick on his paws, even injured.

    Dirt could do this. He could help. He was not big and strong, but he could look, and he could trust. He opened himself, gave everything he could.

    Their minds began to fold together. Dirt felt it start to happen and surrendered himself further, giving everything, receiving everything. Eagerly. Socks registered surprise at the intensity of it, and for the first time, Dirt was glad for his child¡¯s body and mind, which could process emotion so intensely.

    Socks didn¡¯t resist. He followed Dirt¡¯s lead. Their minds merged together with a psychic snap they both felt.

    Five tentacles struck at Socks from five angles, and he easily sidestepped them all and grabbed the last in his teeth and severed it. Dirt and Socks both tasted the blood, its rich flavor of life and triumph. Socks stepped in to grab another, which he yanked tight instead of tearing, preferring to let it rip off slowly.

    Two tentacles came for Dirt, but he had Socks¡¯ reflexes and perspective now. He moved only inches, first one way, then the other, and was never touched. Before the beast could withdraw its tentacles, Dirt grabbed one and bit. They laughed, swallowing the creature¡¯s blood.

    The battle reversed then, with Socks making quick work of too many of the beast¡¯s tentacles. Each attack cost it several more. Most were only injured near their ends, but that still seemed to limit their usefulness.

    The two who were one stepped back, not forward, hoping to bring its bare, unprotected belly farther from the water.

    Finally, the creature had enough. They sensed the faintest hint of frustration from it before quickly vanishing.

    It stretched out all its tentacles overhead, even the injured ones, and wound them together into a great rope four times its body length.

    Dirt ran forward at full speed as it slammed the thick mass down onto Socks, who stepped out of the way. The pup leaped over the thick tentacle rope as the creature swiped it side to side, and Dirt only barely made it to the creature¡¯s front legs in time, where it couldn¡¯t hit him.

    There was no doubt that a swat from that tentacle rope would kill either of them. They both felt the incredible force behind it. It rose high overhead and swatted down at Socks, hitting the ground so hard the shock wave almost knocked Dirt over.

    Dirt dodged a fat foreleg as the thing tried to stomp on him. The beast swung its tentacles overhead and stepped back, trying to open enough room to get a good swing at the boy.

    But the wolf was ready for the distraction. He darted in too fast for eyes to follow and sank his teeth into the creature¡¯s thick, slimy skin. They felt the teeth puncture and tear, the watery taste of its skin and the richness of the blood underneath.

    The pup spun, ripping open a huge gash in the creature¡¯s side, then leaped back, ready to dodge. The creature turned its attention from boy to wolf and thrashed wildly, slamming the tentacle rope into the ground in a hundred random places.

    Dirt dodged again as the thing stomped wildly, hoping to get at least one of them. It ignored the loop of intestine that slid out of the wound, but Dirt didn¡¯t.

    He darted in, wolf¡¯s eyes guiding him between its legs, and grabbed the intestine with both hands. He turned and ran as hard as he could.

    The creature turned and raised its tentacle rope to crush him, but Socks used the opening to grip the thing¡¯s knee with his teeth and steal its momentum.

    Its guts were long, far longer than they expected. Dirt made it out of the tentacle¡¯s range and kept pulling. The beast slowed and grew weaker, and Socks no longer even needed Dirt¡¯s perspective to dodge its attacks. Again and again he jumped in and ripped away the creature¡¯s rubbery skin.

    Socks opened a hole big enough to get his entire head in, and whatever he pulled out was the last thing they needed to finally kill it. The wretched creature slid to the ground in a heap of gray flesh. Its tentacles twitched long after the light of its mind winked out.

    The rush of battle faded quickly, and as soon as it did, their minds slid apart. Once they were two again, they reached out to each other, this time in triumph. They exchanged no words¡ªonly the feeling of celebration, of victory, that swelled in them both. They had done it. Socks had performed his task and kept Dirt alive. And Dirt had not been useless, like they¡¯d both expected.

    Their cheer slipped away, though, as the horror of what had just happened started sinking in. They increasingly remembered the disgust the monster caused in them and Dirt regained the nausea he felt at the taste of its blood and flesh, which still lingered in his mouth. He wished it tasted like it did to Socks, but he had a boy¡¯s tongue, not a wolf¡¯s.

    The pain of their injuries grew also, and soon it was too much to keep ignoring. Dirt¡¯s face hurt as much as it had a few days ago when he¡¯d been punched and wanted to die. The fiery agony made that eye nearly blind again. He had bruises on his ankle from being grabbed and a few on his knees and shoulder that he couldn¡¯t remember getting.

    But that was nothing compared to Socks. The big pup¡¯s handsome face had been laid open to the bone from nose to ear; somehow his eye was still there, but it was red and he couldn¡¯t fully close his eyelid over it. Broken ribs made breathing difficult, and the injury to his back leg was worse than they¡¯d realized. It was quickly swelling and becoming impossible to move.

    Socks hobbled a few steps away from the dead creature and lay down on his side, unable to do anything else. Dirt limped over and buried his face in the pup¡¯s neck, throwing his arms as far around as he could. Even though his own face throbbed in pain so hard he felt it down to his shoulders, Socks¡¯ pain was worse. It came through the pup¡¯s fur like sparks, making Dirt¡¯s skin sting. Socks wasn¡¯t even sending it¡ªit was simply that bad.

    Dirt¡¯s pain was bad enough, but he might have been able to grit his teeth and bear it. But seeing Socks like this was more than he could stand and he could do nothing but weep. He cried into Socks¡¯ fur, sending him all the love and remorse he could.

    Socks¡¯ mind was quiet now, his thoughts withdrawn and unreadable, and Dirt refused to think for even a second that Socks might be dying. Socks¡¯ injuries were Dirt¡¯s fault. If Socks had been alone, he could¡¯ve easily gotten away. Socks had wanted a pet human and Mother made him pay the price for it.

    ¡°You did what Mother asked, Socks. That means you¡¯ll live, right? You proved yourself worthy,¡± thought Dirt, trying not to sound so desperate. Strange that he could talk so calmly with his mind while his mouth was crying.

    Socks didn¡¯t reply, even though Dirt was sure he¡¯d sent that thought loud enough for Socks to hear from wherever his mind had withdrawn to.

    Dirt looked down, and sure enough, that was blood. It was pooling around his feet, probably from the enormous gash on Socks¡¯ face; Dirt couldn¡¯t tell from here, and he didn¡¯t want to let go to check. O Gods, what if Socks really was dying? If you lost all your blood, you died.

    ¡°I¡¯ll feed you and bring you water until you¡¯re better. I¡¯ll never leave you, never. I¡¯m so, so, so sorry!¡± he thought. Pity and guilt swirled in him, making him feel like he was going to throw up.

    -Be quiet, I am talking,- said Socks.

    Dirt tried as hard as he could to quiet down and listen to what Socks wanted to say, even shutting down his tears with a surprising burst of willpower, but there was nothing to hear.

    ¡°¡­what?¡±

    Socks gave no reply. He must be talking to someone else. Mother. He was telling Mother.

    Would Mother come save him? She must. She had to, after her little pup had done what she said and killed such a disgusting creature, especially when it was a little bigger than he was. Mother could heal him, right? Would Mother blame Dirt for any of this? If so, she¡¯d probably be right.

    -Stop being silly. You are not in trouble. Remember that you saved me from the water current,- said Socks. Dirt supposed he had, so that was something.

    The pup continued, -When he gets here, submit and say nothing.- Socks sent an image of himself laying on his back, stomach exposed, demonstrating perfect submissiveness. Then he fell asleep.

    He? Who was ¡®he?¡¯ Another of Socks¡¯ siblings? It certainly wasn¡¯t Father, or Socks would have told him to run far away. Father would kill him just for being noticed. At least that¡¯s what Socks said. So was it going to be a brother Socks¡¯ own age, or a bigger one?

    Dirt kept watch for a while, still leaning on the weary pup¡¯s neck so he could feel the blood pumping and know he was still alive. Blood was everywhere, spattered all across the flattened grass and both himself and Socks. How much of it was the pup¡¯s, he couldn¡¯t tell, but certainly a lot. Dirt felt the pup¡¯s pulse and waited, trying to hide from the black dread inside him.

    Hunger was creeping in. Dirt had hardly eaten anything all day except the blood he swallowed. Even his muscles felt hungry, but he didn¡¯t want to let go and find something to eat, not yet. Later.

    Socks¡¯ brother must be bringing food for him. What did the pup eat? Milk from Mother, probably, but what else?

    Silently, suddenly, a shadow the size of the sky covered the sun and plunged the area into darkness. Dirt¡¯s body recognized the presence of irrefutable power, freezing his bones with primal terror. He fell to the earth before his mind could make sense of what was happening.

    He crawled a short distance away, trying to get away from the choking fear that made it impossible to breathe. Only then did his eyes adjust to the light, and above him was no shadow. It was black fur.

    A wolf as large as Mother towered over him, head blocking the sun. But it was not Mother. Mother had been laying down, which hid a bit of her size. Father standing over him was nearly enough to make him lose all reason, and judging just from his presence alone, Mother seemed gentle in comparison.

    Father¡¯s coat was black with a few strands of gray, except where scars prevented fur from growing. His golden yellow eyes, bigger than Dirt¡¯s whole body, burned and smoldered, their pressure bearing down on him like a hurtling boulder. Father¡¯s jaws were closed, but a scar on one lip revealed a single fang large enough for Dirt to hollow out and sleep inside.

    Dirt rolled to his back and showed his belly, trying his best to mimic the pose that Socks had shown him. How foolish, to think anything he did could influence a being like Father in any way! Still, he turned his head to keep from making eye contact again.

    Father¡¯s presence was enough to make it feel like Dirt was being smashed into paste. Father¡¯s eyes on him were enough to kill without effort. Without even meaning to. Dirt couldn¡¯t see Father¡¯s mind, and didn¡¯t even dare look. It would be too great for his little self to process.

    Dirt sensed motion and shut his eyes to focus on keeping his wits. Somehow he could feel Father¡¯s head moving, its impossible weight carried by impossible strength, moving with impossible speed and grace. Nothing that large should be able to move so quickly, so silently.

    He heard wet sounds and felt a wave of relief from Socks. Father was licking his wounds and the pup¡¯s pain began quickly fading. Dirt could watch that, at least, in the pup¡¯s mind. Watch Socks feel the cut on his face close and stop hurting, as other cuts and bruises were tended. The broken ribs were not mended, however, nor the bones in his rear leg.

    Father sent Dirt a single burst of thought, offhandedly, like waving at a bug while doing other things. Then he lifted poor Socks by the scruff of his neck and left with a leap so quick and silent that Dirt wasn¡¯t even sure what direction they¡¯d gone. The ground didn¡¯t even shudder¡ªthe only thing that told him the wolves were gone was the pressure on his soul finally relenting.

    He was left to process what Father had told him, and he was glad that Father hadn¡¯t used words like Mother did. Mother¡¯s words had just about killed him, and Father¡¯s would be no weaker. Whether it was from disregard or pity didn¡¯t really matter, but tossing him a bundle of thought to look through was much gentler.

    It took a moment to unpack it all. The mind merge was the first thing Father mentioned. It had never been done before, not in all the ages Father had seen, and he was older than the sun. Father wondered how it had happened and was interested in the novelty. Socks had proven himself for now and would continue to live for a while longer. And Dirt should go back to his nest and wait until he was wanted again, which would be soon.

    If he didn¡¯t make it in time, then Socks would never come again. That was clear and unmistakable. Father would not tolerate failure.

    At the end of the burst, Father sent a long string of intricately complicated bundles of sensation, perceptions that Dirt couldn¡¯t understand at first. But there was something familiar about their alien-ness and soon it struck him: Trees. They were trees, the names of the trees that they used amongst themselves. It was a map. Father had given him directions back to Home in a string of specific trees.

    Dirt had no understanding of what the names might mean, or even if ¡®name¡¯ was the right idea, but each one represented an individual. The more he tried to understand them, the worse his headache got.

    It would be a long, long way. Just crossing the field again might take more than day, let alone getting through the forest. There would be no baby ferns for a while, and maybe not any grubs. Did they grow out here? The ground was harder and matted so tightly with grass that Dirt wondered if he could even dig for them.

    He looked back at the disgusting mess of dead creature, its slimy tentacles and slimy innards surrounding its featureless gray bulk. It lay dead on its side, two thick, stumpy legs hanging in the air. The corpse was unnervingly silent.

    He looked down at himself, all the blood and slime and dirt mixed together, and felt too dirty to tolerate. Blood and dirt were one thing, but not its blood. He hurried over to the water and slipped in quietly. He scrubbed every inch with his fingertips, hair and toes and everything, until he was sure no trace remained. He washed his mouth out over and over, spitting it out each time. Then he swam to a cleaner spot and drank deeply, feeling how the chill of the water cooled down his insides to match his outsides. It mixed with the blood and slime he¡¯d already swallowed and made him a little nauseous, but he ignored it.

    Only then did he pull himself back out of the basin and started gingerly pushing his way through the tall grass, still wondering what he was going to eat.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 12

    Night came before Dirt made it even halfway to the forest, which loomed monumental in the distance. That left him to sleep beneath the unsettlingly open sky. Father would give him more than one day, right? Socks wouldn¡¯t be all better in just one day, and it was too far for a little human. He could hurry some more tomorrow.

    His feet stung from a hundred tiny cuts caused by walking through all that grass, which could be sharp and poky where it met the ground. Bouts of sudden nausea came and went, and twice he¡¯d vomited the disgusting fluid in his stomach¡ªwater and blood and hints of slime, all tasting far worse the second time. And to make it worse, he had nothing to wash the taste away or the burning it left in his throat. It dried out his lips, and then his tongue, and then he was thirsty but would have to wait.

    It was the leftover fear that caused it, he decided. That fear rose like the whisper of the wind in the grass, a sound that came from far away and gently brushed past him on its way. He¡¯d been watching carefully the entire time for minds, so he knew there was nothing nearby to be afraid of. The only living things that weren¡¯t plants were little tiny animals he never caught a glimpse of and ran when they heard his footsteps. No giant tentacle monsters or sky-darkening wolves, but the fear of those things stayed with him regardless. It crept in for no reason from time to time, leaving him short of breath and wide-eyed, and that¡¯s what made him throw up.

    Now that it was getting dark, Dirt could just lay down anywhere. The grass came up to his chest in most places, and the trail he left closed behind him as he walked. Nothing would find him, but this was the first time he¡¯d slept with nothing over him and this was not the night for that. Not after everything that happened today. He needed food, which he wasn¡¯t going to get, and he needed to curl up safe in his nest beneath Home, and he wasn¡¯t going to get that either.

    As he finally gave up and lay down, he distracted himself from the empty sky by remembering that Socks was safe and would be taken care of. The pup hadn¡¯t been afraid at all when Father took him; he¡¯d been relieved. Socks was safe and they would see each other again. Hopefully soon. How long did bones take to heal? It had been days since that goblin punched him.

    All those thoughts disappeared beneath a fresh wave of dread when Dirt noticed a tiny spot of light in the darkening sky. There were several of them, little points of light peeking out of the twilight purple. Stars was the word for them, but that was the extent of his knowledge. He was sure they were going to do something. He didn¡¯t know what, but something. Something unpleasant, or sudden and unexpected.

    Even if he looked away, he still knew they were there, waiting. Dirt scowled and started gathering grass to cover himself and keep warm during the night, pulling it up by the roots. Once he¡¯d gathered enough, he curled up and lay on his side, resting the good half of his face on both hands and tried not to look up.

    He couldn¡¯t resist, though. A quick peek revealed there were more now, many more, and they kept coming. So far they hadn¡¯t even moved, so he decided he was probably being silly and gently turned to his back to watch them for a while.

    The next thing he knew, the sun was shining in his face and it was morning. Night had come and gone in an instant. He didn¡¯t even remember falling asleep, or any of his dreams.

    He was starving. Agonizing pangs of hunger twisted his stomach and his mouth was so dry he couldn¡¯t even make spit to swallow and sooth his burning throat.

    Water only appeared in the morning before the fog lifted, and there was no fog here. In  a panic, Dirt shot to his feet, tossing aside whatever grass still stuck to him.

    The sun wasn¡¯t peeking over the horizon yet, but it would be soon. The forest rose high against the sky, and from here it looked like it might still be foggy inside.

    But it would be gone with the end of morning and time was short. Dirt looked down at his body and could swear he was getting skinnier. With a resolved sigh, he started jogging.

    Each footfall made the bruises on his ankles sting and the jostling shook the injured bones in his face, causing a deep ache that grew over time until the pain blinded that eye again. Dirt¡¯s breath rasped and it felt like his throat might be cracking, but it would hurt worse if he quit. He had to keep running or he was just going to get thirstier.

    Only then did he remember to look for minds, and he was glad he did.

    Goblins. He knew them at once¡ªSocks had done a good job showing him what their thoughts looked like. Simple, vivid, disjointed, and mostly focused on whatever was in front of them. There were several of them sitting together eating the raw flesh of some beast, which they found Grace only knew where. Perhaps it was another goblin. All Dirt could see was their hunger and jealousy of their portion. They hadn¡¯t noticed him yet.

    He hunkered down and the motion made his own stomach growl quietly. He had no idea how far away they were, but they must be somewhere nearby, since his senses didn¡¯t go as far as Mother¡¯s apparently did. And what he saw of the images in their minds showed the same tall grass, although they had flattened a big area for themselves. But there was nothing to indicate where they were in relation to him, or even the forest.

    Dirt was confident he could sneak around them. But he was hungry, and they had food, and just leaving without even trying felt cowardly.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "My friend is a wolf,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°My friend is a wolf.¡± He should have courage. Socks would be as big as Father someday, and why would he want a little Dirt hanging around if he wasn¡¯t good for anything? Dirt couldn¡¯t fight, not by himself, but he could be smart and wise. After all, wisdom was the only thing he had left, according to Mother. Precisely what wisdom was, he couldn¡¯t say, but he should use it.

    He stilled himself, listening for any grunting or movement. The air was moving so gently it couldn¡¯t be called wind, but he could see it caress the top of the grass and feel it whisper against his skin. Faintly, ever so faintly, he smelled them. The blood, the corpse, the goblins themselves. Guts had a peculiar scent, he now knew, and he recognized it. He hunkered down and crept quietly in the direction the wind had come, listening for any motions.

    The goblin minds showed no alarm or alertness. They grunted and snarled at each other, communicating simple things like ¡®that part is mine¡¯ or ¡®keep your distance while I eat¡¯, or even just ¡®I am still here.¡¯

    Following the scent on the wind, he had to travel farther than expected, but finally he heard them. Shortly after that, he found a trail through the grass and knew he was close.

    Dirt paused, realizing that he was about to make a very stupid mistake. He couldn¡¯t fight. They¡¯d kill him as soon as they got a whiff that he was nearby.

    His stomach felt like it was winding around itself in there. It was more than just normal hungry. Was there anything he could do? All he had was his weak boy body and his mind¡ªnot even a stick to hit them with.

    Dirt watched their minds for a moment, dismayed at how fast they were eating. Wary, hungry, and jealous, that¡¯s what they were. They had strong fingers, too, since they could tear the beast apart with just their hands. Dirt didn¡¯t think he could do that, and he squeezed one arm just to see. Nope.

    Could he scare them somehow?

    Maybe he could. He gathered all the fear he could remember and considered it carefully. How it felt, how it tasted, how it twisted him and burned him up inside, stole all the strength from his arms and legs. The helplessness that went with it. He knew fear better than anything else. There wasn¡¯t much in his short memory that wasn¡¯t fear, or related to a time he was afraid. He felt it right now.

    Then he screamed with his mind, as strong as he could, at the goblins nearby. FEAR! Just the emotion, raw and powerful and loud.

    The goblins bolted, tripping over their own feet in their haste to flee. They hit the grass and just kept running and running, minds white with terror. They took no thought to staying quiet, either, stomping as they went, and screaming once they caught their breath.

    Dirt stared in wonder, amazed it had worked so well. They had no idea what had just happened! Goblins couldn¡¯t talk with their minds. It was all new to them. They didn¡¯t know where the fear came from and because of that they believed it. They still hadn¡¯t even slowed down, judging from their distant shrieks.

    Grinning wide as he could without splitting his dry lips, he ran toward the spot they¡¯d all fled until he broke into a now-empty clearing in the grass. It was all trampled flat in a circle about three times around as he was tall, and in the middle was a four-legged beast that had been reduced to almost nothing but bones and skin, not even a face to tell him what it was.

    He knelt and lifted away the top legs, checking all over for any good flesh, and on the bottom of the lower back leg, against the grass, was a long, fat strip of red flesh that hadn¡¯t been touched. Dirt quickly bent down and sank his teeth in, then started tearing it loose. It took several strong bites at the top and bottom, but he was able to peel it off.

    Dirt stood, his heavy prize dangling from his mouth, and tasted the blood that dripped into his parched throat as he grinned from ear to ear. He felt like celebrating, so he waved his arms and turned in a circle, then jumped in the air. It might have looked very silly, but so what? A great victory all his own! And now he knew what to do about goblins!

    He stepped on something round and hard, knocking it over. Looking down, he saw a hollow, dried gourd with a little water left in it. He¡¯d spilled a bunch out. Dirt gulped down the few remaining swallows as quick as he could, trying not to think about what made that water taste funny. It was something, though. Food and a little drink! He might make it til morning now.

    Dirt couldn¡¯t wait to tell Socks, and the laughter in his heart sped his feet as he raced away. He was long gone before they dared come back, so far he could only barely see the lights of their minds by then.

    He ran, jogged, or walked all throughout the rest of the day, nibbling on the meat as he went. The quivering purple flesh was tender and about as chewy as grub skin, and it tasted completely different, and pausing to have another few bites was a nice way to break up the day. This was what wolves ate, he realized. He¡¯d seen a giant pile of bones near Socks¡¯ den, and now he knew why.

    Dirt came across no other goblins, or anything else interesting at all. Just grass, shorter in some places than others. Gentle wind. Flying bugs and tiny animals racing away from him. He was getting closer, but those trees were tall and deceptively far away. He was close enough they already covered a quarter of the sky and he wasn¡¯t sure how much farther it was before he got there.

    That night, he fell asleep before the first star came out. He woke in the middle of the night, too painfully thirsty to keep sleeping, so he got up and made his way in the dark. The sky overhead was black now, but blanketed with so many stars they all ran together in some places to make pools and rivers of light from horizon to horizon. He was too tired, hungry, and thirsty to spend much time appreciating it, though. It almost offended him just by being there.

    He hurried through the remaining hours of night and into the early dawn. The trees were almost overhead now, filled with fog from the ground up to the tips of their leaves. The whole forest, all that empty space between earth and canopy, was full of thick fog. It made the forest look like a single tremendous wall. One thing, not many.

    Desperate thirst kept him going. So much exercise hurt in ways that didn¡¯t feel healthy. Like he was damaging himself by continuing. But he made it, just as the fog was starting to lift. Chasing all over to drink enough of the fading drops of dew took the last energy he had, and by the time they were gone, he¡¯d only gotten half the amount he wanted. Despite that, he felt like he might survive now. The pain in his throat and chest were receding, and the rest of him felt better in a way he couldn¡¯t describe.

    This was not a small thing, he told himself. Running all that way in the grass with almost nothing to eat or drink. And after a big fight, and injuries. Dirt was small but he wasn¡¯t completely weak.

    ¡°Stronger, stronger, stronger,¡± he said to himself, cheerfully, almost like a song. ¡°I am getting stronger, stronger, stronger, friends with a wolf. Now, to find Home.¡±

 Ancient Things - Chapter 13

    Ready to resume his task, Dirt walked briskly to the nearest tree root and knelt where it met the ground. No reason to go all the way to the trunk, right? All of this was tree.

    He turned his gaze to its thoughts before he reached out and touched it, though. Its mind was large and slow, just like all the rest. The mind of a tree too tall to measure wasn¡¯t a small thing. There was no mistaking it for all the ferns crowding the ground.

    Simply watching for a while, he saw it forming ideas and sharing them with the others, ideas that he couldn¡¯t understand, from an alien world he couldn¡¯t perceive. It had so many senses, and they were all so different. Socks¡¯ mind had thoughts about smells that he couldn¡¯t understand, but there were also pictures and words and feelings in there. There was enough that they could understand each other. And maybe Dirt had things in his mind that Socks found strange. He¡¯d have to ask.

    But the tree was something else entirely. There were no pictures because it didn¡¯t have eyes, nor words because it had no ears. Dirt thought about the map of tree names Father had given him, grateful it all sprang easily to memory. How many of them were there? Ten, and ten, and ten, and¡­ maybe fifty or so? Sixty?

    Dirt felt a sudden chill as it occurred to him that Father must have done something to make him able to remember it all. Had it taken Father any effort at all, or was he simply so mighty that whatever he wanted simply happened? The memory of that sky-defying ancient wolf standing over him brought up a bone-deep dread that he had to push from his mind.

    Best not to disappoint Father by not getting back in time, after all. Best to focus on this.

    He watched the tree¡¯s thoughts for a while longer, hoping to learn something useful. Anything. Dirt squatted there until his knees got sore, and then he turned around and sat on the root. It didn¡¯t matter which way he was facing, after all.

    But shortly after he sat, he saw something new in the tree¡¯s mind. It knew he was there, felt him sitting on it. It was just a minor thought, something so small and quick that if he hadn¡¯t been watching he might not have noticed it.

    Dirt stood and ran all the way up the root to the trunk, stomping his feet heavily as he went. And sure enough, not long afterward the tree¡¯s mind registered the motion, or at least the rhythm and the change.

    The tree¡¯s mind became the tiniest bit clearer to him. The sensation that felt like this was from him, standing here on the trunk. It had several aspects, just like his idea of a grub¡ªthe feeling of it in his hand, its softness and how it wiggled, the hunger he might have, or the smell of the soil he dug it out of.

    The tree sensed him, although it didn¡¯t seem to care much or take any serious notice. It didn¡¯t see the shape of footprints or anything like that. But it felt him. That sensation wasn¡¯t touch, not as he understood it, but it was not unlike touch.

    Dirt stomped around, dancing, then lay down and spread his arms and legs to touch as much of it as possible. He watched as the tree¡¯s awareness of him followed shortly after and found that the sensation of him was centered on a particular area of the tree¡¯s self. The tree didn¡¯t understand the world of up and down and forward and back, but it knew its own parts.

    He rolled onto his back and stared upward into the canopy while he watched its mind. The dappled patterns of sunlight in the leaves seemed so much more colorful now that he knew what the sun was. It was still there, shining bright and hot, but the trees kept him cool and safe.

    A gentle wind shook the leaves, so far above him that he couldn¡¯t see them individually. Waves of motion tracked its progress across the sky as it blew from horizon to horizon, causing sparkles of light where the sun peeked through for the briefest instant.

    The tree registered the shaking of its leaves and a rush of sensation too large for Dirt to handle pulsed through its mind. Leaves! All those things, all those¡­ so many parts that all perceived the world, countless of them, each slightly different, like ten thousand fingers or noses or ears.

    And beneath it all, a quiet, subtle emotion¡ªpleasure. The tree was happy.

    That thought startled Dirt so much he had to sit up. Trees could be happy? Trees could be happy. Happy, happy. The idea itself was shaped wrong for his mind, almost. He had to shake it and give it a smack to get it to go in.

    Trees were people. He¡¯d suspected when he caught Home dreaming. He¡¯d believed it in the abstract. But now he knew for certain: not just simple minds, but aware and awake and real. He stared up again with awe, measuring again with his eyes just how tall the tree was, how old it must be. For ages unknowable it had been here, thinking and being alive and being a person.

    And there were so many! As far as he could see, so many the wind and sun were turned away from this whole forest. Everything was always cool and still, everything quiet, even when invaders like goblins or gryphons came.

    They probably talked all day long with each other, in their way. Always connected, always together, standing with friends who never moved or left. Never alone, never lost. No wonder they were happy.

    A spurt of bitter envy almost made him get up and leave and just try his luck finding his way without any more talking. He scowled and let it simmer, but there was a pit of darkness there that would swallow him if he let it. He shied away and came to his senses.

    The correct thing to do was to learn the minds and ways of trees and be their friend, too. Then he¡¯d never be alone.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    He lay back down and calmed his mind, watching the slow, scintillating rhythm of the tree¡¯s mind.

    ¡°What do I say to you?¡± he said aloud, tapping his fingertips on the smooth bark. It would have to be something primal and deep, something below any words.

    Well, why not start with the thing he wanted? Dirt slowed his mind as much as he could, then sent the tree the first name at the top of Father¡¯s map, along with the idea of a question.

    No sooner was it sent than he worried that the tree might know how to speak with its mind and crush him by accident. Mother and Father had minds that powerful, but they knew to be gentle with a little tiny human. What would a tree know?

    But no such thing happened. Instead, the tree¡¯s mind filled with a flurry of activity as its thought turned on ideas and senses that remained unknowable to him, at least for now. And if he looked very, very closely, under it all were base emotions and simple ideas, ideas so simple that any mind at all could understand them. Confusion, surprise, curiosity.

    He sent the tree¡¯s own sensation of Dirt laying on its root. He coupled it with what he hoped might work as a greeting¡ªhappiness, eagerness, curiosity. Then he asked again, giving the first name at the top of Father¡¯s map.

    The tree¡¯s mind was slow, but that had only made him underestimate it. The tree took no time at all to realize what was happening. It stripped away most of the incomprehensible senses and ideas from a portion of its mind and laid bare the idea, ¡®Not me.¡¯

    Then it sent a rush of communication to its fellows, though too large and complicated for him to follow. Dirt couldn¡¯t guess what mouth it used to speak, but he could see the tree¡¯s enthusiasm at this new marvel and knew it was being shared.

    Dirt grinned to himself, thinking what it must be like for them. Imagine if he was walking along and a fern said, ¡°Excuse me, are you Dirt?¡±

    He turned his thoughts to the other trees nearby, although near was a relative term. It would take him several minutes to walk between them even if he hurried. They had all picked up on it, it seemed, since he saw flashes of the sensation he left on the root echoed in each of their minds.

    Dirt sent one last thought before he walked back down the root. Gratitude, which felt a lot like love now that he thought about it.

    He sped through the ferns to the next one, which only had two roots above the ground, then did the same thing. He lay on the closer root, although not so far up to save time, and waited until it registered his presence. Then he sent the greeting and question, and waited. It only took a moment for the answer to come. No. Not this one either. But on the tail of the answer came the simple idea of a question, all by itself.

    What?

    Dirt pondered for a moment. Or maybe it was Why, or even How? The tree must have figured out that only simple communication would work.

    He sent an image of himself laying on the bark, coupled with the tree¡¯s own sensation of him being there. The tree recoiled in confusion, and Dirt realized that had been a mistake. It had no idea of space, or of how anything looked. That had been just alien to the tree as its thoughts were to him. But oh well. It was too late now.

    Dirt followed it with a second image, the final name on Father¡¯s map, which he assumed was Home. He associated it with desire, desperate and sad. Searching.

    The tree stayed confused, chatting in its ponderous way with its fellows.

    He moved on picking another tree mostly at random and heading over. This one had several large black spots partway up that looked like old bruises, and as he got closer, he discovered it was ready for him. Dirt¡¯s mental sight of the minds around him still had no direction and couldn¡¯t tell him where anything was, but as he got closer to a mind the size of the trees, he found he could tell which one it was from how it glowed brighter than the rest.

    It was ready for him because it was already saying ¡®Not me¡¯, before he even got there. He sent what he hoped was gratitude and picked another one.

    All the trees were saying ¡®Not me¡¯ now, having cleared out a portion of their minds where he could see it¡ªall except for one. Not that it did him much good. The next two weren¡¯t it, or the third, and by then he was ready for a small rest. He sat down and disappeared beneath the ferns.

    The trees around him felt alive, invigorated. Their minds were all in frantic motion, or at least as frantic as they got. It was still slow to him, but that might be unfair because the size and complexity of their thoughts were far beyond his. They kept holding questions in their thoughts for him, knowing or guessing that he was watching.

    What is this? What is this? they seemed to be asking, but about concepts or sensations he didn¡¯t understand. He could just imagine it¡ªmaybe they had marveled any time he walked up one of their roots during the days he¡¯d been alive, unable to guess what it meant.

    It must be like being touched in the dark when you thought you were alone. Well, hopefully not that scary.

    His legs might be tired but this was all too interesting to stay sitting. Dirt stood again and jogged toward the next tree, and this one was it. This one had its name in place of the Not me all the others were saying.

    Dirt lay on its root and greeted it. He asked the simple question, using the next name on the map. The tree held a reply in its mind, one which he mostly couldn¡¯t understand other than that it implied a connection to a part of itself, that after a bit of pondering, Dirt realized was a root. The tree was telling him where to go! He just had to figure out which root it was. He circled the tree, touching each root in turn until the tree said Yes, and showed him the second name again.

    Looking where that root was pointing, he ran the whole distance, excited to find out if it really worked. And he knew it did before he got there, because as the next tree¡¯s mind grew in his mental sight, he saw it saying Yes, along with its name.

    From there he made it past fifteen more trees before he finally collapsed from exhaustion and waited for nightfall. By this time the trees had figured out what he was doing, but they couldn¡¯t tell how he was doing it or what he was. They had no concept of motion, which made sense, since they had no concept of space, either. And why would they, if they couldn¡¯t move? Their leaves blew in the wind, but it¡¯s not like they did it on purpose. Time they understood, and connection, but it seemed that was where the overlap between his perspective and theirs ended.

    It reminded him of when Mother pulled him apart, separating him into all those layers¡ªhis flesh, his body of energy, his dream self, and several more he couldn¡¯t fathom, with his bare being at the very core. He existed in other worlds that he couldn¡¯t perceive or understand, and so did the trees.

    Still, there was something beautiful about how they spoke with each other. There was a rhythm to it, a pulse, not unlike the sound that came up from the ground when he slept beneath Home. But that was just a noise, and this was rich with thought.

    Sometimes they held thoughts for him and hoped for an answer, but his most common reply was simple confusion.

    Darkness filled the forest and the trees quieted down as well, their minds becoming still and calm. Dirt guessed they were falling asleep and after uprooting enough ferns to cover himself with for the night, he followed them into the dream.

    That night, something touched him in the dark.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 14

    In the deepest black of night, something pressed against Dirt¡¯s calf, low to the ground. He screamed and leaped to his feet before he was even fully awake, stumbling ten steps before falling down again and whimpering in terror.

    He opened his eyes wide and wider against the darkness, but there was nothing to be seen. Scrambling to his feet again, he froze, realizing he didn¡¯t know which direction to run to get away. He opened his mental sight to look for minds, even as he listened and smelled with every bit of focus he could muster.

    Nothing. Nothing unusual. No animal minds, and certainly nothing ferocious and hungry. No sound, no scents but the fog.

    Confusion replaced some of the terror. What was that? Had he imagined it? His heart pounded so loud in his chest he was sure he could hear it. The cool, damp air enveloped him, almost gripping him where he stood.

    Dirt took a step back toward where he thought he must have been lying, then another. Nothing happened, and he started to feel foolish. He forced a grin onto his face to try and help calm down, and it helped. Slightly.

    It took him a moment to find where he had been, which he only could because of the ferns he¡¯d pulled up and a bit of luck. He got down on hands and knees and felt all over the area and jammed his pinky against something hard and immobile.

    With trembling hands, he carefully reached out to see what it was. Wood. It felt like part of a root, about a foot wide and only a few inches high, that grew up from the ground right where he¡¯d been sleeping.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he said aloud. The fog muffled and swallowed his voice.

    The tree minds around him were mostly calm. He thought they might be sleeping, but their minds were so deep and broad and alien that it was impossible to be certain. Parts of them were still active, still aware of things with their alien senses. And they were still talking, just not as much.

    Strangely, he saw the pulse, the rhythm that he heard when he slept under Home. He couldn¡¯t hear or feel it out here, but their thoughts shared in the rhythm and he recognized the tempo.

    He sat more comfortably and rested his hand on the tree root, trying to determine which of the trees it belonged to. The ferns around him seemed more active than he remembered, and after watching them for a moment, he realized they were talking with the tree. The ideas they communicated were tiny and just as inscrutable as everything else, but it dawned on him that they¡¯d told the tree where he was somehow.

    That must be it. The tree had asked where he was, and they told him. Then it¡­ grew a root up for some reason.

    How odd. He saw nothing in any of their minds that looked like a picture of the world. He was sure they didn¡¯t know anything about direction or distance, not as he understood them. To them, it was more about where you were in the web of connections, not where you were standing on the ground. Maybe the tree had just followed the connections to find him.

    The tree knew he was touching its root now, and opened a place in its sleeping mind to form a wordless question around the image he¡¯d been using to identify himself.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he told it, trying to say it like the trees had.

    He saw its happiness, which helped alleviate most of the rest of his lingering fear. It had just been looking for him, that was all. It wanted to see if it could find him. Nothing more.

    But then it placed two more thoughts in its mind¡ªthe name of Home in the language of trees, and¡­ sleep. Dirt chewed on that for a minute, wondering what it meant. Home, and sleep. Home and sleep.

    Well, it must want to sleep with him like Home. Maybe it wanted to see his dreams. Dirt lay back down, heart still pounding but much quieter now. He covered himself with the ferns again and crooked his knee around the little root poking out, so the skin would stay touching after he went back to sleep.

    He woke the next morning without any recollection of what dreams he might have had, or anything else unusual. The root was gone, in fact. How odd.

    But he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d dreamed all that. When he got up and stretched and looked around, he could sense that the trees were eager and ready for him.

    ¡°Give me a minute! I¡¯ll be ready to go in a minute,¡± he said aloud to no one.

    Dirt drank his fill of dew, which took longer than usual because he was still thirsty after yesterday. He ripped up several handfuls of baby ferns to munch on and made his way to the next tree.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Its roots were perfectly symmetrical, the first time he¡¯d seen that, and when he touched the closest one it greeted him almost instantly. It had been waiting, and it was already telling the others he was here. How had it known he¡¯d be back? Maybe it was just hoping. Dirt tried to share some of his happiness and growing affection, but it was hard to tell how it was received. He asked for the next tree on Father¡¯s list and saw the connection, then went from root to root until he found it.

    The morning passed quickly. The good mood of all the trees was infectious; he ran much more than he walked, watching them speak to each other in a way that felt rapid and excited.

    And it really was fun, even if running made his face bones ache. He couldn¡¯t stop. They were so excited! He already felt like he had a hundred new friends. Sometimes he got several greetings at once when he reached the next tree, as if they could package up thoughts and send them along where they needed to go.

    Each time, he replied with a greeting and their name, or his best guess at what the name was, and the tree would send the message onward. That was his best guess at what was going on, anyway. At least he could recognize their feelings now. Somewhat.

    After a while, he stopped to dig up some grubs, resting in the ferns to let the trees talk amongst themselves for a bit. He ate them slowly, looking up at the forest with new appreciation. It was truly beautiful. The tremendous, dizzying emptiness between the ground and the canopy, an unimaginable space where nothing was. The open sky seemed closer than the canopy did, because outside the forest there was nothing up there but blue. The pleasant, dappled green shimmering above him in gentle breezes that never made it down this far, the shadowy ferns stretching beyond sight in every direction, peaceful, silent, calm.

    And now that he was getting more familiar with the trees, he had an easier time spotting their differences, and they were all different. Not in size, but some had more roots, or bigger ones; some had scars partway up, and others had big discolored patches of darker gray. All different, all alive and aware.

    This might not be a place for humans or beasts or anything but ferns and trees, but it was a good place. And now it no longer felt so empty. He could be friends with the trees. He would learn how to talk to them for real, over time, and they would be happy to greet him anywhere he went.

    Although, trees and wolves were one thing, but were there any humans left? Who would he even ask? Socks wouldn¡¯t know where to find them and he dare not address Mother and Father directly. Not ever.

    Still, it would be nice to have someone his size around, instead of giant like Socks or the trees. And that didn¡¯t mean a goblin. Just¡­

    Dirt hugged his knees to his chest, suddenly growing more somber. There was no one around here to touch, no one made out of flesh. He was starting to feel like an uprooted fern. Maybe the wolves would let him come sleep in their den once in a while? No, he didn¡¯t dare. Mother would eat him before any of her pups. He wouldn¡¯t last the first night.

    He shook his head and stood, stretching his arms and legs to get a little life back into them after resting. He was being silly, he knew. This was an exciting, memorable day, and there was no use wasting it on unhappy thoughts.

    Tree after tree after tree, Dirt made his way through the sea of ferns to greet them all, following Father¡¯s map. Their joy kept him going, long after he got so worn out from all the running he wasn¡¯t sure he could keep going. He was only walking by the end but the trees were so excited waiting for him that he had to push forward.

    What would happen if they got mad at him, somehow? Could that even happen? That¡¯s not why he was hurrying, but still, he wondered.

    By the time night fell, he was still a dozen trees or more away, according to the map, but he would make it tomorrow. Every inch of him was weary and sore, and when he finally curled up under the crook of a root to sleep the night, all the pain he¡¯d ignored in his injured face hit him at once, bringing tears to his eyes and making him whimper in pain. How much longer would it take for that to stop?

    He slept touching the root so he wouldn¡¯t get any surprises, and when he woke in the dim early morning, the snippets of dreams he could remember were so confusing he couldn¡¯t hold on to them. He was probably too tired to dream much. Was that how it worked? It seemed like it.

    The next morning, Dirt pressed on and it got harder with each tree he passed. His body simply wasn¡¯t used to that much running and walking, even after a good night¡¯s sleep. It had been too many days of hard work and it¡¯d caught up to him.

    The last three trees knew he was tired somehow, but everything they told him to do about it made absolutely no sense. And they were indeed trying¡ªthey showed him much more complicated ideas than simply hello and their names, and it did no good at all.

    Finally, finally, he made it. And after how he hurried, he was sure he made it in time to meet Father¡¯s unknown deadline. He was so tired there was nothing left in him, which might be what Father wanted in the first place, but he made it.

    He didn¡¯t touch Home¡¯s roots out at the edges, but waited until he was outside the hole Socks had dug for him. Only standing in front of the black opening in the black dirt, right as he was about to crawl in and get a good rest and wait for night to fall, did he stretch out his arms and press himself against the enormous root.

    The bark was as cool and hard and smooth as ever, and he greeted Home with all the warmth and happiness he could muster. To his surprise, Home returned it just as strongly. The tree was overjoyed to have him back. It must have been waiting this whole time. Maybe it knew him, really knew him from the dreams they¡¯d shared. Maybe they were already friends and he didn¡¯t know it.

    Home seemed to be urging him on, now. Trying to get him to move, to go a bit farther along the root. There was something it wanted to show him. That was unusual enough to get him moving. So far, it was more than any other tree had been able to communicate.

    Dirt traced his fingers on the bark as he crawled into the darkness of his nest and found it inhabited with a shape of wood, a continuation of the bark growing into something new.

    With curiosity, he ran his hands all over it until he realized what it was.

    Home had made a wooden person.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 15

    Since it was dark in his den, Dirt ran his hands all up and down the wooden person and found that it was only roughly-formed at best. Still, it made him marvel to think that Home had enough of an idea of visual appearance to do this at all. Or maybe it wasn¡¯t sight? But either way, how did Home get the shape right?

    The legs were fused together, more like one thing than two, and the arms were stuck to the sides. Its torso was more round than flat and the head was just a big lump. The whole thing was covered in the same flat, smooth bark as the trees, but it was a little crinklier. It was connected to the big root above him by a thin branch that came right off the shoulder.

    Frankly, Dirt wasn¡¯t sure what he was supposed to do with it.

    Home had a space open in its mind for him and was sharing a few simple thoughts, most of which he couldn¡¯t understand, derived from the tree¡¯s alien senses. But beneath it was a sort of enthusiasm, perhaps, and¡­ invitation? It wanted him to do something now?

    Dirt sent the idea of a question and waited anxiously. Home conversed among its fellows for a moment, in their slow way, then placed two ideas in its mind: connection, and sleep.

    It was still a little early to sleep for the day, so he sent ¡®soon¡¯, as clearly as he could conceive the idea, and ¡®yes¡¯.

    Home replied ¡®soon¡¯, and ¡®sleep¡¯, and ¡®question.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, soon, sleep,¡¯ replied Dirt, pleased that it was getting easier to talk. The list of thoughts they could share might be shorter than the list of fingers on his hands, but it was still encouraging.

    Dirt rested for a while, too tired to be bored. Home was content to wait, and he supposed trees were seldom in a hurry. It was so strange¡ªhow could their minds be so big and active, when all they did was just stand there, unmoving? What did they think about? Nothing in their incomprehensible thoughts gave him any clue.

    After a while, he crawled back out and dug for some grubs. He paused, looking at their tiny minds. Were there emotions in there, if he looked hard enough? Probably. It wasn¡¯t worth thinking about, though, because if he didn¡¯t eat them he¡¯d die. And the goblins sure didn¡¯t care about his feelings when they tried to eat him. Maybe it would be good to understand grub thoughts someday, just to learn more about them, but right now they were food.

    Dirt made a ball out of fern stems and imagined it was a tentacle monster. Then he found two more grubs to be Dirt and Socks, and made them fight, with sound effects. Over and over. When both grubs eventually died, he used twisted little lengths of fern leaves to be the boy and wolf instead of digging for more. The remaining hours of the day melted away so quickly the dimming of twilight surprised him.

    He crawled back into his nest, relieved it was finally time. He could finally sleep, and maybe in the morning, he could try and figure out what Home was doing with the big wooden doll.

    Dirt lay at an angle and rested one leg over the doll so they¡¯d stay touching during the night, and let his mind wander until the nightly vibrations carried him off to sleep.

    From one moment to the next, he became aware he was dreaming. No slow dawning of consciousness; instead, he was hovering in an endless kaleidoscope of thought-forms beyond his comprehension. He recognized the tree-dream, but it all looked different to his conscious mind than he remembered it in the mornings. For one, it was smaller, like it had folded in on itself.

    His thoughts felt sluggish. Passive. In front of him hovered Home, shapeless and potent. It saw without eyes, gripped without fingers. It was holding on to Dirt¡¯s dream-self and keeping him in place¡ªsubdued, but in a way he found pleasant.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Home made him look at himself and horror nearly knocked him from Home¡¯s grasp. His body was all wrong¡ªjust jumbled parts. Isolated bits of flesh and hair, spinning and gyrating in empty space. One knuckle, just opening and closing. A toenail. And other things that were not flesh at all, which he couldn¡¯t identify. Hard bits, flat bits. He was a cloud of pieces, not a person.

    He held up his hand, or what should have been a hand, and tried to imagine it going back to normal, since that was how things should work in a dream. But it didn¡¯t go. It wouldn¡¯t change or come together.

    Home took a firmer hold of him then and forced him back into passive calm, for which he was grateful. Then, satisfied he was subdued, it gently nourished whatever part of him lived in dreams. Life and growth gathered in his fingertips and began to fill in, creating new substance where before there was nothing. Bit by bit, all the pieces connected and expanded into what they were supposed to be. It was a slow process, but a peaceful one, free from any fear or doubt. Home had him, guided and protected him.

    It tickled and itched as it grew back together, and after a time, he had a whole hand again, letting him rotate and grab and point.

    The process started on the other hand, just as slow. Home kept him a little too passive for him to get excited, but he knew something good was happening. After all, Mother had said he¡¯d been torn to pieces and Socks had asked him why he looked like this in dreams. But Dirt hadn¡¯t fully appreciated what that meant until he could see it himself with full awareness.

    And truly, he was a mess. His physical body was fine, even if it was much younger than it was supposed to be. But if the rest of him looked like this then it really was a miracle he was alive.

    Dirt couldn¡¯t read Home¡¯s mind in the dream, which was surprising. ¡°Hello, Home,¡± he said aloud. The words came out of space itself, and when he reached up with his good hand, he found his face was just as jumbled as everything else. Right now, Dirt was just a hand.

    I must put you back together to see what you are.

    Dirt almost missed the idea, which came from a place so deep inside him that it didn¡¯t even seem like thought. He was almost startled, before Home forced him back into calm. ¡°Was that you, Home?¡±

    But the tree didn¡¯t answer. Instead, it continued its work, drawing his attention back to his other hand so his memory could help it grow back like it was supposed to. What a strange dream this was. Nothing at all like the wolf dream, chasing all across creation with Socks and his brothers and sisters. Was this even real, in some way? Was Home really here?

    This is a part of the dream that is beyond you.

    Dirt watched his fingers grow back in, each joint in its place, bending just how it should. The softness of his skin, even the whorls of his fingerprints. The detail was perfect, far better than he thought he could remember.

    Try to remember, not imagine.

    It connected to the wrist now and began growing up his forearm, itching and tickling and stinging all at the same time. He watched it grow, placidly giving it all his attention, as it expanded and gathered up all the loose bits.

    All the way to the elbow on one side, then on the other, and then it was time to stop for a while. Home gently released Dirt and the dream ended, fading into deeper sleep.

    A short time later the dream began again, a fresh new dream just like the other one, and the process continued. More and more of him grew back together with Home¡¯s gentle, nourishing, patient guidance.

    Each time a new part grew in, he used it every way he could, bending and turning and twisting. After the third dream, when he had both legs, he walked and ran and jumped, even though he didn¡¯t go anywhere. And after the fourth, when he had his whole torso, he rolled and spun and stretched.

    In the sixth and final dream, he felt with his fingertips while his head and face grew in, since he didn¡¯t have a mirror. Then he shouted and sang and looked everywhere, tasted and smelled and listened, and everything was right.

    He woke in the morning with a heart full of warmth, comforted by the memory of so many healing dreams. Dirt smiled, laying still for a moment to hold on to the last of the placid happiness of the night before.

    Dirt patted the doll and said, ¡°Good morning, Home.¡± Then he crawled out to drink the morning dew and get ready for the day.

    After he¡¯d gone five steps into the cold morning fog, he heard creaking and cracking behind him.

    He looked down into the hole.

    The wooden person crawled out after him, then stood, unsteady and awkward, each new joint bending for the first time.

    It opened its eyes.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 16

    Dirt recoiled reflexively, then felt guilty. Something about that wooden person was deeply unnerving, even though he suspected he knew who it was.

    ¡°Home?¡± he said aloud, hoping he would be able to talk aloud from now on.

    The wooden person didn¡¯t respond. Its smooth, dry, glassy eyes couldn¡¯t turn on their own, and he wasn¡¯t even sure it could see. It took another unsteady step forward and raised its arms toward him. Was it trying to grab him? It didn¡¯t even have hands, so probably not.

    Dirt looked at Home¡¯s mind, wondering how different it would look now. It was mostly the same, immense and inscrutable, but a new part had grown that saw the world with real, actual eyes. It was a success!

    He jumped in celebration, watching himself in Home¡¯s confused mind. But it wasn¡¯t just for show¡ªhe meant it. He sent Home as much of his excitement as he could muster, and made it clear that what the doll was looking at was indeed him.

    The doll¡ªHome¡ªwatched him, its immense mind roiling to make sense of its new perceptions. Dirt watched eagerly, anxiously, as Home turned slowly this way and that, witnessing the real world for the first time. Although, that might not be the right thing to call it, since Dirt was learning that reality was a lot deeper than he thought.

    Home¡¯s mind was large enough to start on new tasks, and a part began to focus on improving its body. Dirt got the sense that everything was deliberate. It already had a plan, and he supposed it must have learned everything there was to know when it was putting him together in the dream. The hard part for Home was the hard part for Dirt¡ªnamely, how to translate ideas between worlds. But Home was much, much smarter. It had understood him in the dream, and bit by bit it made progress.

    ¡°Can you hear me yet?¡± he asked, watching Home¡¯s thoughts to see if it registered. It didn¡¯t.

    Home¡¯s hands grew fingers, which flexed and bent. Its round torso flattened and became almost supple. The head developed from a ball into something that looked more like a head. A split opened along the front where a mouth should go, and bumps appeared on the sides that almost looked like ears.

    ¡°How about now?¡± he asked again.

    This time, a flicker of awareness crossed the tree¡¯s mind. Dirt opened his mouth wide and went, ¡°Aaaaaah! Hello, Home. Can you hear me? Have you figured out what sound is yet?¡±

    Dirt kept saying random nonsense and watching Home¡¯s mind while the tree worked on its ears. He had no way to tell if it was making any progress, but the tree seemed intent on the task.

    Finally, Home opened its mouth to reveal a pale wood interior. Its chest expanded to draw in air, and then it made the most horrible sound Dirt had ever heard.

    The tree¡¯s mind framed a simple question, sharing the idea of the sound it had made. Dirt decided it was asking if it was right, and answered ¡°No.¡±

    Then he demonstrated, not saying anything in particular but just drawing out the sound of his voice like singing. Dirt startled himself; he¡¯d completely forgotten about music. He realized he¡¯d been close to remembering a couple times, but it hadn¡¯t quite clicked. But how could he forget about music? He wished he knew any songs. He¡¯d have to invent one later.

    Home¡¯s voice cracked and popped, changing each time the tree made an adjustment. It grew more tolerable bit by bit as Dirt watched the shape of the mouth and throat making slight change after change.

    But the tree was working on other parts at the same time. The shape of the face became closer and closer to a human¡¯s, and Dirt wondered if it looked like him or not. He¡¯d only seen himself in the minds of Socks and Home, and that was never perfectly clear.

    Home¡¯s bark never became flesh, but it did soften as flexible and supple as flesh, allowing a full range of movement. The hands were detailed, with fingernails and everything. The toes less so, and most of the rest was left a bit rougher than that, giving Home the appearance of wearing bark from chest to ankles. No penis, either, although Dirt supposed trees didn¡¯t have to pee, so why bother?

    Finally, Home got its voice to settle around the same pitch as Dirt¡¯s, and it sounded almost as smooth. Still a little rough and crackly, but not as bad as a goblin, so it was fine. Satisfied, it asked again if it was right, and this time Dirt said, ¡°Yes.¡±

    What truly made Dirt realize just how impressive Home¡¯s doll was, was when it cracked a smile at him. How did it know what that even meant? Maybe it had seen him smile in a dream and stored it away. But regardless, it was done¡ªthe thing was complete, and Home now had a window into the world of up and down, left and right.

    One thought repeated loudly in Home¡¯s mind until Dirt noticed and figured it out: Show me myself.

    Dirt pointed at the closest tree. ¡°That¡¯s you,¡± he said aloud.

    The doll turned and looked, its mind quieting. Home¡¯s thoughts grew incomprehensible again and it spoke again with the other trees. Its head tilted farther and farther back as it looked higher and higher.

    It began to sink in just how incredible this was. For this forest, this would be a day that divided ¡®before¡¯ from ¡®after¡¯ forever, and Dirt was here to see it. No, not just to see it¡ªhe¡¯d helped it happen. If trees had good memory, they¡¯d remember him for years uncountable after he was gone.

    A brand new thing, something marvelous and precious, had grown and come into being because of him. A grin of pride broke out on his face, pride that he was living up to his name Dirt, but it quickly faltered into something like sadness as the beauty of the moment sank in and touched his heart.

    Little Home turned back to face him and made a wordless noise with its mouth.

    Dirt got the impression that the tree didn¡¯t understand what words were yet, so he sent the image that he¡¯d been using to identify himself, the tree¡¯s perception of him laying on the roots, and said, ¡°Dirt,¡± pointing at himself.

    Then he pointed at Little Home, sent the tree¡¯s name, and said, ¡°Home.¡±

    After a bit more back and forth, saying each over and over, it clicked. Home raised its own hand in Dirt¡¯s direction and moaned, ¡°Irrrrrrrrrr¡­,¡± while holding an image of him in its mind.

    ¡°Yes! Dirt! That¡¯s it! Dirt, Dirt, Dirt! You can do it.¡±

    ¡°Dirrrrrrrr,¡± said Home. It dragged it out, using the whole breath. All the while, its immense mind processed the task with massive swells of effort. Its thoughts still felt slow, but it could do so much at once!

    ¡°Dirt! Dirt, Dirt, Dirt-t-t-t!¡± he said.

    ¡°Dirrrrrrrrrrrrrg. Dirrrrrrrrrrrk. Dirrrrrrrrrrd.¡±

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Close. Dirt, t, t, t. Dirt.¡± He made a point of opening his mouth to show his tongue.

    Home opened its mouth the same way, revealing a dry, pale tongue of wood, flexible and soft. ¡°Dirrrrrrrrrrr-tuh. Dirrrrrrrrrrrt.¡±

    ¡°Yes! Dirt! Just shorter now, just say Dirt!¡±

    ¡°Dirt,¡± said Home.

    Dirt couldn¡¯t contain himself and gave an excited cheer, raising both fists in the air. He sent his emotions, hoping the tree could understand that much since it probably didn¡¯t know what a cheer was yet.

    Home placed its own excitement in his mind where he could see it, and awkwardly, slowly, raised its own arms up.

    He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the confused Little Home, then squeezed for a hug. The doll¡¯s body just felt like soft plant, not scratchy like bark. Soft and spongy on the outside, but solid and unyielding underneath. Dirt sent his genuine affection, all the warmth he felt. He really did love this tree. He¡¯d been leaning that way before, but now it was certain.

    Home felt it too. It shared that much in its mind. Little Home raised its own arms to encircled Dirt, and squeezed. Too hard.

    Both of Dirt¡¯s arms broke with audible snaps, halfway between shoulder and elbow.

    He screamed in shock. Home didn¡¯t let go. It didn¡¯t understand. It squeezed a little tighter, and Dirt felt his right arm break a little more.

    For a brief moment, there was no pain, but when it appeared, it was agony.

    ¡°Let go!¡± he whimpered between clenched teeth. ¡°Let go, please!¡± He sent an image of Little Home spreading its arms again to release him. He tried to communicate that his arms were broken, but focus grew more difficult the more Home squeezed him.

    He couldn¡¯t inhale. Home was going to kill him and wouldn¡¯t even know what had happened. He frantically sent the image of open arms over and over and finally Home released him.

    Tears of pain dripped down his face. His breath came in racking gasps. Without Home holding his arms, they drooped a little lower and dangled, agonizing with every tiny motion, and he couldn¡¯t do anything about it.

    He tried to use his left arm to hold the right one together, but couldn¡¯t. It wouldn¡¯t move like it was supposed to. He wouldn¡¯t be able to eat. He couldn¡¯t feed himself. He was going to starve to death. He was going to wither and die right here, over days of pain, and Home would watch and be unable to do anything about it.

    It was the despair more than the pain that started him sobbing. He gently lay down, shrieking as he tried and failed to rest his arms without making anything worse. His left arm was cracked but wobbly, but his right was snapped clean in two and didn¡¯t lie straight. The pain never relented, not even for an instant.

    He tried to tell Home what had happened, trying to explain in pictures and feelings of pain that he was damaged now, broken, and it was serious.

    Little Home gazed down at him passively, with hints of what might have been concern on its wooden face. The tree¡¯s mind registered confusion but no sympathy, not that he could detect. It simply waited and watched, uncomprehending.

    That made him feel terribly alone somehow, and his sobbing grew worse when he realized this meant he could never ride Socks again. Their adventures and friendship were at an end, just like that. One instant of ignorance on Dirt and Home¡¯s part, and it was over.

    Dirt had been so distracted that he hadn¡¯t drank any dew yet this morning, and now he wished he had. The ache in his throat from crying was turning into thirst, and water was dripping down his face without being replaced. He was going to suffer the whole time. Hopefully death would come soon.

    ¡°Dirt,¡± said Little Home. ¡°Home.¡± In its mind, it seemed to be asking what was happening.

    Maybe he should get the tree to put him out of his misery. It would be easy enough, he knew. If he sent Home directions to stomp his head in, it would. He could say it would help and not even be lying. Let Home figure out the rest over the thousands of years it would live on after him.

    He tried to picture a branch or root snapping and send that, then his arms. When that didn¡¯t seem to work, he sent an image of his arms moving, then breaking and falling still.

    Little Home knelt beside his legs and started prodding them, exploring what they were made of. Dream legs weren¡¯t the same, after all. Dirt just left the tree to it and tried to will away the pain in his arms and face.

    Home picked up one calf, squeezing hard enough to cause deep bruises with its wooden fingers. It bent Dirt¡¯s knee, rotated it and considered how it worked. It prodded deep into the flesh to feel the bone there, which hurt enough to make him groan.

    With both hands, it flexed Dirt¡¯s shin bone, and before Dirt could scream ¡°Stop!¡± it pushed too far and cracked the bone.

    The doll quickly dropped his leg, as if surprised or embarrassed.

    Dirt howled, unable to get back control of his voice. It was all too much. His mind had no room for anything but pain.

    Home lifted Dirt¡¯s loose right arm and the shock of pain was worse than anything he could have imagined. He screamed so hard it became a struggling, taut gasp.

    Dirt¡¯s mind retreated from his body. It seemed to split into parts, one still suffering in blinding excruciation, and another aloof, relieved, watching.

    The tree-minds around him buzzed with furious communication. The forest worked together to make sense of the problem, all of them together trying to figure out what to do about little Dirt lying there under the ferns. The sheer size and power of their thoughts made it impossible for him to understand much, but bits and pieces contained pictures he recognized. His arm, swollen and bulging wide with blood; his leg bending and cracking, every nerve in his body sparking with pain.

    The night vibrations started, even though it was still foggy morning. The slow pulse came out of everywhere to shake the ground louder than he had ever heard it. His chest thumped from the pressure as it passed through him. It increased in speed from a gentle rise and fall as slow as his breath to a powerful, unrelenting drumbeat that rocked the earth. The trembling ground agitated his injuries, multiplying his suffering.

    Dirt felt power gather like a second source of gravity, right at his side. He managed to get one eye open and saw Little Home peering down at him with an intense gaze, implacable, unyielding, eternal.

    ¡°Please help me,¡± he rasped. It was hopeless desperation, though, because what could Home even do? He wouldn¡¯t starve. He was going to die long before that. He was bleeding too much inside his arm.

    Then a hundred energies suffused him, fire and sparks and motion and everything else. Dirt¡¯s whole body hummed and buzzed so loudly that he forgot the pain, losing it in a sea of white energy.

    But it wasn¡¯t his physical body the trees were infusing. It was a different part of his being. Not the dream-self, either, but something else. Some part that lay closer to the surface, all torn like Mother had shown him.

    Dirt felt it growing together with senses that had no names. It expanded and grew and fused and became strong, solid.

    It went on and on, long enough for Dirt to get used to the feeling and the pain to start coming back. Finally the sea of energy withdrew from him, leaving behind a sense of wholeness that quickly faded and vanished.

    They¡¯d healed the wrong part of him. Some useless, unseen part, not his physical body. The pain returned in full and he moaned, wishing he could turn his body one way or other and find even a hint of relief.

    The trees watched expectantly, every mind he could see. They had done their part and waited for him to do his. But there was nothing he could do. He wasn¡¯t a tree and whatever they¡¯d fixed did him no good.

    Their patience was unmatched, but even they grew anxious when nothing happened. The space in their minds they left open for him implored him to act, begging, almost desperate.

    An answer came for them, but not from him. A wolf-mind approached, drawing near before Dirt noticed it. It wasn¡¯t Socks, nor any other he recognized. It could speak to the trees in a way they understood, and whatever it told them spread in ripples and waves across the sea of mind-lights.

    They seemed surprised¡ªshocked¡ªby what the wolf told them, and it wasn¡¯t much longer before he was sure they understood he was dying. They must not know how it was possible over something so minor.

    Home even pictured the image of the big root nearby coming apart, then growing back together, hoping he would understand and fix himself. Dirt might have grinned then, if his teeth weren¡¯t already bare from pain. That must be why he¡¯d never seen a single branch down here, why they never broke off and fell. They could simply heal themselves.

    The wolf reached him before he was ready and startled him by lifting him off the ground with its tongue. Dirt howled when his right arm dangled and twisted, but he kept his wits.

    The great beast lifted Dirt into its mouth and closed it to hold him tightly in place. Socks was big, but not this big. Not big enough to put him in his mouth with room to spare.

    Death had finally come. He was being eaten. ¡°Thank you for ending this. Please tell Socks that I regret nothing and I love him. And tell Home it¡¯s not her fault.¡±

    -I AM NOT EATING YOU, FOOL. MOTHER MADE ME COME GET YOU BECAUSE MY LITTLE BROTHER IS FRANTIC AND WILL NOT REST.-

    The wolf¡¯s thoughts were vicious and strong, a young predator approaching his prime. He held Dirt firmly in his mouth, wet and hot and reeking, with just enough air to keep him alive. There was no sense in which it was comfortable.

    But he was going to live. He was going to live! ¡°Then please tell Home I¡¯ll be back, and¡ª¡± Before he could finish the thought, the wolf¡¯s mind pressured him unconscious.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 17

    Dirt was licked awake and knew immediately it was Socks. His wide, wet tongue enveloped Dirt¡¯s head and chest and the pup all but shouted at him, -Wake up, Dirt! Time to wake up!-

    He smelled the den before he opened his eyes and it filled him with relief. He had the good sense not to try to get up, remembering just in time that both arms were broken. Looking over, he found Socks laying on the ground right next to him, close enough to poke him with his nose.

    The cut that had laid Socks¡¯ face open was now a fearsome scar that ran from ear to nose, and a few more interrupted the gray and black fur on his body. But other than that, the pup had sparks in his eyes and looked lively as ever.

    Overhead, so many of Socks¡¯ brothers and sisters leaned in to get a look that nothing was visible but wolf. Dirt opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Socks licked him again.

    Dirt laughed, swelling with the nameless joy of simply being alive. His arms ached, although much less now than before. Laughing like this made his face hurt too, but it didn¡¯t matter.

    A dozen or more wolf pups asked at the same time, -What is this? Why are you doing that?-

    He responded without words, instead letting his relief and gratitude and happiness radiate out of him in every direction, strong as he could. And it was sincere¡ªhe felt it deeper than his bones. His broken ones. There was nowhere he¡¯d rather be, except maybe snuggled right up against Socks, resting in his soft fur.

    -He makes that sound when he gets too happy. He has to let out the extra,- said Socks, in a wise and knowing tone. -That is also why he bares his teeth. It is not a threat when he does it.-

    ¡°I have so much to tell you, Socks! You wouldn¡¯t believe what I did this morning! Wait, is it still the same day?¡±

    -It is and I was watching. I got bored, so I learned to watch farther and I was watching you most of the time.-

    ¡°I¡¯m not even thirsty anymore. Why am I not thirsty?¡±

    Socks was clearly amused, his good humor coming across along with a hint of affection, which Dirt returned tenfold. The other wolves gently jostled and pushed back and forth, fighting for a better position to watch.

    Dirt felt himself lifted off the ground by Mother¡¯s mind. The canopy of wolf faces parted as he rose up above them and floated toward the immense black-furred predator resting at the back of the den. All but Socks followed him, tails wagging.

    He knew enough this time not to look directly at her, keeping his eyes downcast to show submission the only way he could from up here. She brought him close, hovering over her folded paws. The bare portion of the claws longer than he was tall.

    It took sincere effort not to let the animal part of him panic so close to Mother, especially with him hovering helpless in midair, higher up than Socks was tall. Her hot breath blew across his skin each time she exhaled.

    I AM HOLDING YOUR BONES TOGETHER. YOU WILL REMAIN HERE UNTIL THEY ARE STURDY AGAIN AND KEEP MY SON ENTERTAINED.

    Mother¡¯s voice was powerful as he remembered, just to the point a tiny bit more would cause him harm. Just enough to make it clear how much she was holding back, and how insignificant he was in front of her. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure if he should reply or not, but there was a pause, so he sent, ¡°I am unworthy, but I am grateful. I am eager to obey all you command.¡±

    YOU COULD NOT HOPE TO BE WORTHY. THE MIGHTIEST OF YOUR KIND WHO EVER LIVED WAS ONLY A LITTLE STRONGER THAN MY SON IS NOW.

    That surprised him. There had been a human as strong as Socks? Dirt couldn¡¯t picture it. Jumping fifty feet in the air, running so fast the wind made it impossible to hear? Teeth to kill a goblin easy as a grub, claws to rip open that beast from the water? Just a little human doing that?

    YOU FORGET CLOSING THE WOUNDS OF FLESH, MASTERY OF THE DREAM, AND GHOST SIGHT. THOSE ARE ONLY THE THINGS YOU HAVE SEEN. YOU MAY BE PLEASED TO KNOW THAT HE IS NOW THE EIGHTH STRONGEST OF MY CHILDREN.

    Mother¡¯s gaze turned him around slowly in the air, rotating him end over end before aligning him upright again. Dirt gave little thought to the treatment; instead, his mind latched on to Socks being the eighth strongest. He¡¯d been twelfth strongest before. Did that mean¡ª

    YES, PUNY THING, IT MEANS YOU HAVE HELPED HIM GROW AND NOT DRAGGED HIM BEHIND. IN ALL THE AGES I HAVE SEEN, IT HAS NEVER BEEN LIKE THIS. LOOK AT MY OTHERS. THEY ALL WANT A HUMAN OF THEIR OWN.

    Mother rotated him in the air again so he could get another look at the thirty or more giant wolf pups crowding below him, their inquisitive golden eyes locked on him, wagging their tails unheeding of who they might be smacking with them. She rotated him back to face her and he almost looked her in the eyes before he remembered to look down in humility. Right at her claws.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    HIS THOUGHTS HAVE GROWN ORDERED BY THE DESIRE TO SPEAK WITH YOU AND HIS DESIRE TO PROTECT YOU DROVE HIM TO GIVE GREATER EFFORT TO HIS TASKS. YOU EVEN DISCOVERED HOW TO MELD YOUR MINDS, WHICH HAS NEVER BEEN KNOWN AMONG US. PERHAPS MY NEXT LITTER WILL EACH BE GIVEN A HUMAN, AND I WILL NOT NEED SO MANY.

    There was another pause, so he sent, ¡°I am grateful to know I might have helped. I love your son and I will help as many others as I can, any way I can.¡±

    Mother ignored that statement, and he feared he may have offended her by speaking. But she continued, NOW YOU HAVE AWOKEN A DRYAD, SOMEHOW. THOSE HAVE NOT BEEN SEEN ON THIS WORLD SINCE BEFORE YOUR KIND FIRST EMERGED. THIS MARKS THE DAWN OF AN AGE, LITTLE HUMAN. TO THINK YOUR FIRST INTERACTION WAS TO HUG HER. YOU ARE LUCKY YOU WEREN¡¯T RIPPED IN HALF.

    Dirt smiled sheepishly to himself. She was right and he knew it.

    MY CHILDREN WILL AVOID THAT FOREST UNTIL THE DRYADS LEARN TO CONTROL THEIR STRENGTH. SHE IS TEACHING THE OTHERS TO MANIFEST THEMSELVES AND SOON THEY WILL BE EVERYWHERE. SHE WOULD NOT LISTEN TO ME UNTIL I SHOWED HER A FEMALE HUMAN SHAPE. I SEE YOU HAVE QUESTIONS. FOR THE SAKE OF MY CHILDREN¡¯S LEARNING, NOT YOURS, I PERMIT YOU TO ASK.

    The first thing he asked was the question that was pressing its way out all on its own. ¡°Home is female?¡±

    TREES HAVE MALE AND FEMALE AS DO MOST OTHER LIVING THINGS. MOST OF THAT FOREST ARE FEMALE, BUT NOT ALL.

    ¡°When will it be safe to go back? She didn¡¯t mean to hurt me.¡±

    OF COURSE SHE DID NOT MEAN TO HURT YOU. SHE REBUILT YOUR DREAM BODY AND YOUR MANA VESSEL. SHE ALREADY INSISTS I RETURN YOU, BUT THAT WILL WAIT UNTIL THEY ARE MORE FAMILIAR WITH THE PHYSICAL WORLD.

    Dirt struggled to pick the next question. He would only get so many, and there were a hundred things he wanted to know. What all those bodies he had were for, where to find other humans, how to learn the language of trees. Anything about who he¡¯d been before. He was too ignorant. ¡°What¡­ Well¡­ You are wiser than I will ever understand. What should I know that¡­ that will help me be of greater benefit to Socks?¡±

    Dirt felt a ripple in the power that held him aloft. That question seemed to have surprised her.

    IT IS EASY TO FORGET YOU ARE NOT TRULY A CHILD. THIS IS MY ANSWER: ANYTHING HE TEACHES YOU, HE LEARNS BETTER FOR HIMSELF.

    He started floating backward in the air and knew the audience was over. The crowd of pups parted again and Mother deposited him right on the ground where he¡¯d been before. He would have preferred to rest on top of Socks where it was warm and soft, but the pup probably wanted him where he could see and smell him without moving.

    No sooner was he laying still again than the entire litter of pups crowded in and fired questions at him faster than he could process. The mental noise made his brain hurt, but he did his best to steel himself against it instead of complaining.

    -Tell us about the dryads!- said one.

    -The water!- said another.

    Many more sent ideas with no words attached, but one theme was common¡ªthey all wanted a story or two. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure how to send his thoughts to so many at once, so he placed the pictures in his mind and let them watch. Once he started, they all quieted down and the closest ones leaned in, close enough their hot breath puffed against his skin.

    From there, he showed them everything he could think of. The gryphon, the goblins, learning to swim, what Home¡¯s forest was like, the fight with the tentacle monster, Home¡¯s dryad. No sooner had he gone through everything than they all wanted to hear it again, including Socks, so Dirt started over, adding details and taking his time.

    As the stories stretched on, several left and others returned from their adventures outside the den, each wanting to see everything Dirt had to tell. Halfway through the fourth telling, his mind was too worn out to continue and the story simply fell apart. The pups finally left him alone, although they would stop to sniff him anytime they walked past and look to see what he was thinking about.

    He and Socks could chat quietly with each other then, free from most distraction. They did so for a long while, slow conversation full of imagination and adventure. Restful and healing. When it was Socks¡¯ turn to nurse, Mother lifted him off the ground and floated him over, easy as she¡¯d done with Dirt, and set him down where he could reach.

    For his part, Dirt was only a little thirsty and didn¡¯t dare ask for anything, not until he was desperate. Mother said not to talk to her, and who else could he ask? But then a ball of water appeared right in front of his face, about the size of his fist. It hovered and rippled in midair, and without needing to be told, he lifted his lips and drank.

    Mother lay Socks down right where he¡¯d been before and the pup immediately licked him again. Dirt smelled the sweet milk on his breath, something he¡¯d never encountered before but somehow knew about, and felt a hint of envy that he quashed by remembering how lucky he was to be alive at all.

    -So what should I teach you?- asked Socks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s hard to teach me much of anything just laying here.¡±

    -What about this? I taught you how to speak with your mind and Mother says most humans can¡¯t do that, so maybe we can try this.- said Socks. He pushed an image into Dirt¡¯s mind of the world washing out into gray and black and receding, expanding to show more of the surrounding area than his mind could handle at once. It grew ever outward to include greater stretches of land, so many rocks and trees, hills and sky and air, each pushing its way into his consciousness. Before Dirt could beg for him to stop, Socks saw his distress and pulled it back. The departing vision left dizziness and a deep ache behind, both of which faded after a brief moment.

    -You are very small, so ghost sight might be too much for you. Oh, I know what we can try.-

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± asked Dirt nervously.

    -Mother said your mana vessel is fixed, so I wonder if I can teach you how to fill it up.-

    ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    -Magic. You know, so you can run fast and jump high.-

    Dirt almost sat up in his excitement. ¡°Let¡¯s try!¡±

    -It will be tiring, so we shall try tomorrow.-

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait!¡±

    -Yes you can.-

 Ancient Things - Chapter 18

    As evening came and the den grew dim, four wolves double Socks¡¯ size returned from the day¡¯s adventures, still not fully grown but radiating a predatory menace that the smaller pups had none of. The fuzzy gray was mostly gone from their fur, leaving it mottled black and sleek. They bent down to sniff him as they passed but otherwise ignored him, even shutting their minds to his sight. Dirt was sure it had been one of them who picked him up in the forest this morning, but if so, he didn¡¯t identify himself.

    Night brought the perfect darkness Dirt was used to, but all the sound and motion and heat in the den was new. The wolves all crowded and cuddled together to sleep, although they left room for Socks, who wasn¡¯t allowed to move yet. And for Dirt himself, who would have been squished if one of them rolled over. Even so, if he¡¯d been allowed to move his aching arms, he might have risked snuggling with Socks. Perhaps in another few days.

    Despite being warm and comfortable, the night was restless for him, who startled awake at nearly every snort or scratch or shuffle. Each time he heard something, he thought it might be Mother rising to eat one or two of her children, as Socks said she did every night. He was afraid he¡¯d have to hear the giant pups crying out in pain and fear. Hear their bones crunching, hear Mother chewing them up. What if they screamed for help, calling out with their minds and voices at the same time? What if everyone woke, and they all had to listen together in helpless terror?

    At some point during the night, Father entered, a silent killer whose sheer presence filled the den and reverberated against its walls. He curled up near the entrance and fell asleep himself, and Dirt didn¡¯t wake again after that.

    At first light, Socks huffed and woke him with a puff of air, then licked him several times to say hello. -Good morning, little Dirt. You look normal in the dream now. Did you know that?-

    ¡°I did! Home put me all back together in a dream last night, so I wondered if I would look normal to you, and now I know.¡±

    -My brother says you kept waking up all night until Father made you stay asleep.-

    A wave of dread passed through him. The less notice Father took of him, the better. ¡°I was afraid I¡¯d hear Mother eating someone.¡±

    -Did you? I didn¡¯t. I never do. But there are three fewer of us this morning. Usually it¡¯s one or two.-

    ¡°No, and I¡¯m glad. I don¡¯t want to hear that. I like you too much and I think all your siblings are cute, too. Except the big ones. Cute isn¡¯t the right word for them.¡±

    -I like them too, but Mother says only a handful will survive the first year. But don¡¯t fret about it. Everyone would rather die than be a weak wolf.-

    ¡°Don¡¯t you miss them?¡±

    -I don¡¯t think so. I haven¡¯t thought about it.-

    Dirt considered that for a moment but was distracted by the growing ache in his arms. He shifted his back a little to try and get more comfortable, and even that minor motion caused a scalding pain in his shattered right arm. He grit his teeth and hissed until it calmed back down.

    -Oh, I forgot to tell you. Mother left, so try not to move at all until she comes back. Nothing is holding your bones together. Don¡¯t even twitch or it¡¯ll hurt.-

    ¡°I found that out already.¡±

    -I saw.-

    ¡°She can¡¯t do it from far away?¡±

    -She can, but she doesn¡¯t want to.-

    ¡°Oh. Oh well. So, how long do bones take to grow back together? It only takes flesh a day or so, so I thought it would be faster than this.¡±

    Socks found that amusing for some reason, and so did two other pups who were nearby and must have been listening. They stood, padded over, and gave him a good sniff, then loomed overhead with their tongues lolling out. He didn¡¯t even have to see their minds to tell they found something funny.

    -That only works because I¡¯m a wolf and the cuts weren¡¯t deep. Flesh takes a lot longer to heal if a wolf doesn¡¯t lick it.-

    ¡°Then what about bones?¡±

    -Those take a very long time, but if Mother holds them together and you stay in the den, then it¡¯s only a few days because this is a healthy place.-

    ¡°What makes it healthy?¡±

    -It just is. That¡¯s why Father and Mother dug the den here.-

    -Show us your mind meld,- said a new voice. One of the pups above him. Two more joined them, then another, and Dirt was reminded again just how big they were. Their heads were bigger than his whole body, and with them pushing for a better look at him, he saw a lot of teeth.

    -SHOW US- said several more, their eagerness turning to shouting that made Dirt¡¯s brain squirm. -SHOW-

    ¡°Okay. Just talk quieter, because as you can see I¡¯m just a little tiny human.¡±

    Dirt looked over at Socks and the pup¡¯s eyes were eager. -Let¡¯s do this, and then we¡¯ll try and fill up your mana afterward. Or maybe during.-

    They eased into it, sending each other a stream of perception that built until it incorporated every sensation or thought. Dirt focused on relaxing his mind, opening, submitting, and receiving and understanding everything the pup sent him.

    It only took a moment before their thoughts slid together and became one, and once they did, the link between them solidified and Dirt and Socks felt the ground with two bodies, saw with four eyes, smelled with two noses.

    With Socks¡¯ sense of smell, the den was almost miraculously different. It came to life with an overwhelming heady richness, so many smells, each telling him something new. Each sibling had his or her own scent, as did Mother and Father, and all of it lingered. But there was more¡ªscents of blood and flesh, soil and water, pollen and rot. So many scents carried in their fur, all of it exciting.

    Dirt smelled himself with Socks¡¯ nose and fully realized for the first time just how complex it was. Emotions both current and old, everywhere he¡¯d been lately, even the fact he was a child. No wonder they all kept coming up to sniff him. If their bones weren¡¯t broken, Socks and Dirt might have gotten up right then and gone around sniffing everyone themselves, just to see what it was like.

    And the human vision! Socks had never known there could be so many colors. The earth took on a richer brown and the gray of everyone¡¯s fur showed faint hints of red or orange that Socks hadn¡¯t noticed before. The small bits of plant life strewn around were green, an entirely new color. And distant things stayed in sharp focus¡ªincredibly so. So bright and clear, even far away!

    The fight with the tentacle monster had been too urgent and hasty for Socks and Dirt to spend much time taking it in, and now they found themselves in an entirely new world.

    Socks and Dirt said, ¡°-Hello everyone-¡° just to see what happened when they spoke at once.

    -HELLO- came several replies at once, from different directions.

    Wait, directions?

    ¡°-Say something again. Just one of you. You,-¡° said Socks and Dirt, indicating a sister standing toward Dirt¡¯s feet.

    She sent the thought simply and quietly. -Hello, brother and little human.-

    A thrill of excitement filled them, rebounding back and forth on their mental connection. They could tell the direction! Before, thoughts came from nowhere, had no real voice or sound to them. Mind-sight had no front or back, left or right, and neither did mental communication. It simply was. Until now. Two eyes to see distance, two ears to tell direction, and now two minds joined together could show them both.

    Socks and Dirt looked around with mental sight, amazed. Everyone¡¯s mind was in a direction now, not just brighter or dimmer. Sister was there, brother was there¡­

    The pups crowding around them watched it all and shared in their amazement. They raced all around the den, shouting things like -Look!- as they went. And just as wonderful, no matter how loud anyone shouted, it didn¡¯t hurt little Dirt at all, because Socks could receive the extra pressure.

    ¡°-We will be the greatest hunter ever!-¡° thought Dirt and Socks.

    ¡°-We will! Nothing can hide from us! We wonder if Socks is still the eighth strongest, or if he is now a match for the seventh, who killed the ogres, or the sixth, who fought the snake.-¡°

    ¡°-Mother will tell us when she returns.-¡°

    Word seemed to be getting around, because several more pups came in from outside to watch, including one of the older brothers. The den was abuzz with activity, each pup eagerly chatting with its siblings and some still racing around, watching how Dirt and Socks could hear the direction in their unified mind. The second strongest even went outside and ran up the rock that made part of the ceiling, just to see if they could tell the direction. They could.

    ¡°-We should teach Dirt how to gather mana. It might be easier this way, with both of us.-¡°

    ¡°-Yes, let¡¯s try that.-¡°

    ¡°-All right, it goes like this,-¡° said Dirt and Socks to each other. Then Socks¡¯ body made a connection with the earth and started drawing in energy, filling his mana vessel. From there, power spread to the rest of his body, infusing the muscles and increasing his strength several times over.

    It seemed so simple that Dirt and Socks grinned to themselves as they prepared to make the attempt. Once Dirt¡¯s body knew how to do this, the possibilities were limitless. They could play all sorts of games if Dirt could run and jump like Socks, or at least closer to it than now. And who knows what else they might come up with.

    Dirt and Socks sent their mental awareness all through Dirt¡¯s body looking for how his mana body interacted with the physical one, but they couldn¡¯t find it. That made them go back and try again to understand how Socks did it, but it came so naturally to the pup that they made little progress there either. Dirt¡¯s body tried to match the feeling of it, hoping for an epiphany, but it was like trying to catch a bird using just his feet. He simply wasn¡¯t built that way.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Once they saw what was going on, all the pups shouted their suggestions, but none of it was useful. They repeated the same instinctual feeling that Socks already knew, and which Dirt¡¯s body couldn¡¯t grasp.

    The joining of their minds shuddered and split apart, leaving Dirt with a mild headache and severe mental exhaustion. He felt like he¡¯d just run for an hour, but only with his brain.

    He looked over at Socks just in time for the pup to lick him with his enormous wet tongue again.

    Dirt laughed, helpless to do anything about it. Squirming in pleasant discomfort made his arms move, though, and he could feel the break in the right arm flex with even the slightest motion. ¡°Stop! You¡¯re making my arms hurt!¡±

    -That is an excuse. You don¡¯t like it when I lick your face, do you?- asked Socks, as close to laughter as he ever got.

    ¡°I don¡¯t hate it; it just feels weird.¡±

    Socks affectionately licked him again right on the face. Dirt squealed with laughter but that jostled his arm again, which made him hiss and wince.

    -I¡¯ll stop. It¡¯s hard to leave you alone because you are cute and fun to tease.-

    ¡°Well, just wait until I find a way to get you back someday!¡±

    -How will you do that?-

    ¡°I¡¯ll say something like, gee, too bad I have such a bad itch but I can¡¯t move my leg to scratch. So, so itchy, right there, where I can¡¯t do anything about it. My poor fur! Wow, it itches so bad! And all you have to do is not think about it, and you won¡¯t notice any itches. So don¡¯t think about it, not even a little.¡±

    Dirt sat there and smugly let Socks roll it around in his mind. It didn¡¯t take very long before Dirt saw him twitching his paws.

    ¡°Sorry, Socks. I¡¯d go scratch it for you but I can¡¯t move either.¡±

    -You got me. How did you know about that?-

    ¡°Mother said I kept my wisdom from when I was an adult. That must be how.¡±

    Father came in not long after, carrying fat, bloody cattle held in his teeth. In Dirt¡¯s haste not to make eye contact, he caught only a glimpse of them, but he was sure he¡¯d counted at least eight. He wished it had been anyone other than Father carrying them, though, because now he was painfully curious. He hadn¡¯t known cattle existed until this moment. The word hadn¡¯t even come to his mind before.

    The den, already full of energy and commotion, sparked into even greater fervor. The pups barked aloud and shouted in their minds, creating an overwhelming cacophony.

    Socks licked Dirt again, helping sooth him so he could resist the mental noise. -Try and hide your thoughts. It will help.-

    Dirt focused on making his mind invisible, a trick he¡¯d only accomplished once or twice and mostly by reflex, and the painful riot of mental noise dimmed to a low hum. Shutting them out made him feel vaguely disconnected from everyone around him, which he regretted, but at least he wouldn¡¯t squirt blood out his ears.

    ¡°Thanks, Socks,¡± said Dirt aloud. Socks huffed in reply.

    Father dropped the cattle not too far away from where Dirt and Socks were laying. The unpleasant sound they made when they hit the ground was disquieting and the heavy, smacking thuds reverberated in his memory long after the sound was gone.

    After that, Father started ripping them apart to distribute. One of the pups must have gotten too close, because Father snarled, STAY BACK. I WILL DECIDE WHO EATS FIRST AND HOW MUCH.

    There was no quieting out Father¡¯s voice and the scolding tone made Dirt go rigid in dread, even though he wasn¡¯t the target. He closed his eyes and tried to keep his fear from getting away from him, breathing deeply and schooling his thoughts. He was so focused that he didn¡¯t notice Father¡¯s hot breath on him until he heard the heavy chunk of meat plop down between him and Socks.

    FEED YOUR PET A PIECE IF YOU WISH, Father told Socks. Dirt held his breath until the immense presence overhead moved on.

    Socks eagerly gnawed a bite off the huge chunk of meat, which was tricky to do laying on the ground. He hardly chewed it before it was gone down his throat.

    ¡°Do you get meat often, or mostly milk?¡± asked Dirt.

    -Mostly milk, especially at first. And they used to chew it up for us, but not anymore. Now they just make sure we don¡¯t eat too much or eat a bone, because that will hurt our stomachs or teeth.-

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you eat that goblin?¡±

    -No, I just killed it and tasted a lot of the blood. And it was more than one. I¡¯ve killed five.-

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised Father gave you meat first and not the oldest or strongest.¡±

    -He always feeds the littlest ones first. If we are weak, it will be because of ourselves, not because we didn¡¯t get enough food. But don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll leave you some.-

    Dirt wondered about that. Why would the parents go through the trouble of feeding them so carefully if Mother was just going to eat them? And for that matter, why bother eating them? If they were weak, they¡¯d just wander into something like the tentacle monster and that would be that. Even so, after seeing Mother and Father in the flesh and feeling the pure menace they radiated, there was no doubt they were capable of eating their pups.

    Stranger still, Socks and all his siblings seemed affectionate with each other. They played and romped and slept in a pile, innocent and happy. And yet, every night there were less of them and no one seemed to mind. Why didn¡¯t it bother them, even a little bit? How could that¡ª

    Mother¡¯s voice filled his mind just as her shadow filled the entrance to the den. I HAVE MY REASONS, AND IF YOU DISCOVER THEM BEFORE I PERMIT YOU TO LEARN, I WILL KILL YOU WITHOUT HESITATION.

    Dirt hastily replied, as meekly as he could, ¡°Thank you for the warning.¡±

    Mother gave no further reply, but he felt his bones tighten back together. As her immense black form passed silently over him, the pain faded into a dull ache, letting him relax in places he hadn¡¯t realized were tense.

    Socks left him a chunk of meat that was a little too much, but the pup¡¯s teeth were too big to get it any smaller without using hands or paws. It was tricky to get a bite off¡ªthe meat was soft and bloody and kept sliding away when he tried to sink his teeth in and then Socks would have to nudge it back again. Between the two of them they eventually managed to get Dirt¡¯s stomach full, although it resulted in a lot of frustrated giggling and tail wagging.

    Once the meat was gone, quivering balls of water appeared for them to sip right out of the air. Dirt was sure Mother was the one who did it, and it occurred to him that for all her clarity about his position, she was being quite generous.

    Father left after that and for the rest of the day, Mother rested at the back of the den, brooding and keeping a wary eye on her children. Socks¡¯ brothers and sisters came and went, leaving to explore or perform tasks assigned by Mother. Each time one came back, everyone got a sniff, and they even came over to greet Socks so he wasn¡¯t left out.

    Dirt and Socks were too tired mentally to try another link or work on magic for a while, so they rested in between visits from siblings. One sister told them about a cave with rocky spines all over the ceiling, and another about a pond that was a perfect circle with a hill in the middle that had a bunch of little snakes on it.

    Later when they took a nap, they met in the dream and raced up a tall, solitary mountain. It rose up from a flat plain of hard red dirt, and it was barren at the bottom, pine trees in the middle, and ice and snow on top. From up there, they saw farther than Dirt had ever thought possible, and he resolved to climb it in the waking world one day and see if it was the same.

    In the afternoon, Mother instructed them to get up and move around a bit, with strict orders that it should remain restful and calm. Socks stood and the first thing he did was gingerly scratch his side with his back leg. Dirt felt guilty so he helped, digging in good with his fingernails and hoping Mother didn¡¯t slack in holding his bones. Moving like that made them ache, but they stayed together.

    They stepped just outside the den to get some sunlight and stretched and yawned and enjoyed the fresh scenery, and Dirt found the bright sun more pleasant than ever before. It warmed his skin and the ground he was standing on, enveloping him from head to toe like a blanket.

    The field around the den was still a mess, with torn earth and sparse grass for quite some distance. The bone pile looked bigger now than he remembered, but he hadn¡¯t paid close attention before.

    Socks sat down to relax in the sun for a bit, and since Dirt was allowed to use his arms, he climbed up and lay on the pup¡¯s back, stretched out comfortably in the fur.

    ¡°Socks, do you know what I just noticed? My face bones don¡¯t hurt anymore.¡± Dirt pressed his finger against all the spots that used to hurt and found only a couple bruised places in the sharper part around his eyeball. ¡°I think we really do get better faster in the den.¡±

    -I told you we did.-

    ¡°Yep. It was several days ago and hardly got better that whole time. It hurt almost any time I moved but now after one night it¡¯s almost completely healed. I bet your leg and my arms won¡¯t take very long.¡±

    -I hope it¡¯s fast. It¡¯s less boring with you here but it¡¯s still boring. Everyone is telling me about all the fun they had but we haven¡¯t had any.-

    ¡°Here, lift your head up,¡± said Dirt. He rose from his little nest in Socks¡¯ fur and carefully stepped up to his front shoulders, resting one hand on the pup¡¯s head for balance.

    -What are we doing?-

    ¡°I want to smell the breeze, and I bet you want to see all the colors. Let¡¯s try and meld again, just for a moment.¡±

    Dirt and Socks reached for each other with the fullness of their minds, and after a little difficulty caused by the weariness from last time, they slid together again. Instantly the landscape exploded into brilliant colors and vivid scents from far away. Dirt¡¯s eyes raced over everything, near and far, and they were amazed at how clear the distant trees were, even though nothing over there was moving. Dirt¡¯s eyesight was much more impressive out here where there was a whole world to look at.

    The air moved too slowly to feel, but Socks¡¯ nose could smell the motion. The bone pile smelled of bone and blood and old rot, and the lingering steps of dozens of wolves left their own traces. Farther off, the smell of grass and pine tree sap and so much more painted a picture of the landscape just as bright as Dirt¡¯s eyes did.

    ¡°-Laying around might be boring, but this is fun-¡°, said Dirt and Socks.

    ¡°-It¡¯s too bad it¡¯s so tiring. Maybe we¡¯ll get better at it with practice.-¡°

    ¡°-We will.-¡°

    They looked again at the inside of Dirt¡¯s body, trying to find where to draw in mana, but just as before, it was impossible even with the two of them.

    ¡°-Perhaps we should understand better how it works for Socks first.-¡°

    They turned their attention to Socks¡¯ body and watched as he drew in a little mana, then again, a little more. From there, they watched how Socks distributed it, first in his mana body, then his physical one.

    ¡°-How does it know where to go?-¡°

    That was a good question. They watched carefully, trying to understand the mechanism, but the better they observed, the worse they understood it. The mana was moving and not moving at the same time, for one. It came into Socks in the same place, which they thought might be near his belly button. But any time they thought about a different part of his body with the intention of seeing the mana move, it was already there.

    ¡°-Oh, let¡¯s try this. Can we move the mana from Socks into Dirt directly? Maybe if he had some in him we could figure it out.-¡°

    Seeing that was a great idea, they turned their minds to the task. Socks only had to think of jumping for mana to be in his legs, so they thought of Dirt doing the same.

    A brilliant, flashing spark in Dirt¡¯s body split the meld so abruptly that Dirt gasped and fell to his hands and knees. He felt stretched and torn inside, like he had a cough that wouldn¡¯t come out. He wanted to smack himself in the chest but didn¡¯t risk it with his arms broken, Mother¡¯s help notwithstanding.

    -Did it work?- asked Socks, turning his head all the way back around to give Dirt a little lick to get his attention.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Ow.¡±

    -What¡¯s wrong?-

    Dirt had no idea what to tell him. The torn feeling inside him quickly evolved into unpleasant heat, hotter than the sunlight on his shoulders. He tried to be calm, to relax and take the pressure off whatever it was, to simply let it flow. If he could only twist and turn the right way, maybe it¡¯d come loose.

    -I don¡¯t know what to have you do. Is there mana in you now? Is that what it is?- said Socks, sounding almost frantic.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It hurts.¡±

    -Try jumping. Do something. Try and use it up.-

    ¡°Hold on,¡± said Dirt, trying to focus. He stood up and stretched out his arms and legs, bending over forward and back to try and loosen up the lump burning in his chest.

    Dirt must have found the right way to bend, because all at once, the fire melted and incorporated with him, filling him with something he recognized, even though this was the first time in his life.

    ¡°Magic! I have magic again! It¡¯s been so long! I don¡¯t even know what to do with it! But¡ª¡°

    Dirt stopped the thought midway and looked at Socks with a grin. ¡°Okay, here I go.¡±

    He willed his body to use the mana just like Socks did. If he hadn¡¯t felt Socks do it across the mind meld he might not have tried, but it was natural as breathing now. He hadn¡¯t just watched Socks do it¡ªhe¡¯d done it himself.

    Dirt slipped off Socks¡¯ back and as soon as his feet touched the earth, he jumped with all his strength. He soared into the air, too fast for his mind to follow, and ascended much higher than he expected. Possibly as tall as Mother! He shrieked in joy at the top of his flight, looking around in pure excitement.

    Then he began to fall and realized he¡¯d used up all the mana. There was nothing left for him to land with. He was going to break every bone in his body.

    ¡°Catch me!¡± he yelled to Socks, his mind almost unable to form the words around his terror.

    Socks scrambled to his feet to try and catch his human before he crashed, but before he could, Dirt¡¯s fall slowed and stopped in midair, inches off the ground. Then the invisible hand that caught him rotated him until he was upright, then let go, dropping him harmlessly on his feet.

    WHAT DID I TELL YOU TWO? DID I NOT TELL YOU TO REST? IS THAT RESTING? NO, DO NOT APOLOGIZE. COME IN HERE AND LAY DOWN.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 19

    Four days later, Mother declared Dirt and Socks recovered and sent them out with no warning. Dirt barely had time to scramble up onto Socks¡¯ back and grab on before the pup left at a hasty run, rising from where they¡¯d been laying the whole time and darting out the den entrance before Mother could change her mind.

    Socks flew across the flat field around the den and darted into the brush, no particular goal in mind. It simply felt good to be moving again after so long. From how the pup ran, it was clear that his bones were indeed healed and Dirt whooped in excitement each time they took a turn or leaped over a rock.

    The day was overcast but warm, the cloudiest Dirt had ever seen it. The whole sky was spotted with clouds more gray than white, leaving only portions open for the blue to show through.

    Socks carried him toward tall hills with ridges of rock jutting out in places, hard angles of brown and gray stone interrupting the gentle curves of grass and gravel. It looked like the earth had risen and cracked open once, a long time ago. They raced down in the hollows between the hills, turning this way and that as they went.

    ¡°Are we going anywhere in particular?¡± asked Dirt.

    -I don¡¯t know. Older Brother has come this way several times, so I want to see what¡¯s over there.-

    ¡°Oh, can you smell his trail?¡±

    -Yes. Do you want to share?-

    ¡°Sure. Just the scent? The air is blowing in my eyes so I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll see much.¡±

    -Here you go!-

    Socks opened himself and they joined only a portion of their senses, which was harder to establish but far less straining on their minds. Dirt took in the richness of scent as if smelling it with his own nose, and even though their thoughts remained separate, he instantly knew Brother¡¯s trail. The scent served better than a name did, telling them his age, health, emotion, and more. Brother had been in good spirits last time he came this way, probably because he had been allowed to go off on his own for a bit instead of attending Father like the older pups usually did.

    They ran ever faster along the narrow, winding pathway through the hills. In some places there was an actual trail, a thin line of bare dirt that smelled like deer. Hill after hill, all treeless and covered in rough grasses. Socks drew in a steady flow of mana to strengthen his run, a perfect system as natural as a heartbeat or breathing.

    Dirt tried not to feel any envy about that, since even after four days of trying they couldn¡¯t get his body to take in more than a trickle of mana, and never on his own. And to make it worse, when Socks asked Mother about it, she said that if they couldn¡¯t figure it out then he ought to just go leave Dirt somewhere and forget about him.

    Well, there was no point ruining a good day by getting upset for no reason. Dirt shook the thought from his mind with a little wiggle of his head and held on just a bit tighter to Socks¡¯ soft fur.

    ¡°Hey, Socks, let¡¯s go find a deer. We keep smelling them and I¡¯ve never seen one. Have you?¡±

    -Not a living one. Let¡¯s do it. Sister said they hop instead of running.-

    Socks slowed to sniff the air a little more carefully. He shared his hearing with Dirt, too, since he was using it.

    Now able to hear with Socks¡¯ ears, the world rushed in at Dirt, alive with a thousand sounds humans couldn¡¯t hear. Bugs crawling in the grass nearby, his own heartbeat, the very blood in his veins. Birds flapping their wings. The gentle whispering of grass in a breeze so soft he hadn¡¯t noticed it.

    They didn¡¯t hear any deer nearby, but after padding gently along the trail a bit farther the scent grew a little stronger and they decided there must be some around. They smelled several, a mix of male and female, and they didn¡¯t smell like they were anxious about anything.

    Socks walked a bit lower to the ground, carefully peeking around each bend of the hills, hoping to spot the prey before they saw him. Dirt found himself holding his breath in anticipation as he strained to listen for any movement.

    They noticed the sound at the same time, of course, and both their heads riveted to the left. Something was moving close by, something heavier than all the little mice and rabbits and things chasing all through the grass.

    -Ready?-

    ¡°Ready!¡±

    Socks¡¯ body surged with mana and he leaped forward at tremendous speed. Dirt clung tightly to his back with all his strength, but even so, the pup almost ran right out from under him. Socks bounded up the hill and leaped from the top, soaring through the air.

    Dirt¡¯s eyes raced over the scenery below both near and far, looking for anything that might be a deer. How big were they, anyway? He should have asked first. A small copse of trees in the middle distance seemed like the best place, since it was somewhere to hide.

    ¡°Over there! In those trees.¡±

    Socks landed in the grass with very little sound, but not quietly enough. Dirt was right¡ªthey were in the trees, and the animals bolted at the sudden motion. Their gray and white coloration hid them fairly well amidst the underbrush, but once they were moving, that was that.

    In truth, it wasn¡¯t much of a chase because Socks could have gone much faster if he wanted. But it amused him to get right up behind the biggest one and snarl just to watch it panic, then give it a merry chase.

    Neither of them had seen anything like it. Lean, with a narrow, expressionless face and coarse-looking fur. It was smaller than Socks, of course, but probably weighed three or four Dirts.

    It ran by pounding all four hooves nearly at once and bouncing forward, which amused Socks terribly. His mind sparked with pleasure as he mimicked the poor beast¡¯s movements, hopping as he went. Dirt got shaken violently and clung on even tighter to keep from being tossed off. It was great fun, and he shrieked each time he felt his body floating off the pup¡¯s fur.

    All the noise just made the poor little deer run harder. Its scent was almost pure terror, and from what Dirt could see of its thoughts through all his distractions, there wasn¡¯t much else going on.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    The thing was quick, though. Not particularly agile, but quick. It fled through the hills and into a large, upward-sloping plain that ended at a sharp, even ridge.

    Dirt guessed there was a big flat area up there, and when he noticed a furrow cut into the ridge, allowing easy walking from the plain to the flat top, he shouted in excitement and thought, ¡°A road! Socks, over there! That¡¯s a road!¡±

    -A what?-

    ¡°A road! Like we saw by that human temple place the other day. It¡¯s all grown over but I want to go look at it.¡±

    -Okay. But first we will eat this deer.-

    Socks ended the game early and caught the panicked beast¡¯s neck in his teeth. He killed it with a mighty shake and threw it to the earth.

    As eager as Dirt was to go see the human place, now that there was food in front of him, he realized how hungry he was. Mother had sent them out before they¡¯d eaten.

    He slid off and stepped over to get a better look at the deer. It was a strange thing. No paws or claws, just hooves. It looked so¡­ helpless. No way to defend itself or manipulate the world. Socks¡¯ paws weren¡¯t as useful as hands, but at least he had claws to hold things down with. The deer had nothing. What a pathetic animal.

    ¡°It¡¯s like it only exists to carry meat around until someone wants some,¡± said Dirt.

    -Yes. It¡¯s prey.-

    Dirt thought that over while Socks tore it open, pulling away the skin to expose the meat and innards. The rich smell of blood and flesh made their mouths water.

    Socks said, -Let¡¯s meld our taste, too.- The pup sniffed eagerly at the hot carcass, ready to taste it with Dirt¡¯s more sensitive tongue.

    Adding one more sense to their mental connection was a simple matter, although Dirt could feel his mind getting weary. They¡¯d need a break from it soon, but that was fine. There was still plenty of time to taste all the parts of the deer.

    First things first. Dirt knelt down and leaned in and licked out some blood, then washed it back and forth in his mouth to savor.

    ¡°It tastes different from cow blood.¡±

    -Cow blood was duller. This has more variety.-

    ¡°Yeah. And the scent of it is better, too. Maybe that¡¯s why it tastes better.¡±

    Socks ripped out a bloody haunch and barely chewed it before swallowing. He didn¡¯t have the teeth for chewing like Dirt did, but that also meant he didn¡¯t really need to. Meanwhile, Dirt took bites out of various bits all throughout the dead animal, eating slowly to share what it tasted like. Some things were too slippery and connected to pull out with his hands, so he just dug in with his face and ripped away a bite or two with his teeth like a wolf. Every part had its own flavor and most of it was delightful; the only thing Dirt didn¡¯t like was the intestines. With Socks¡¯ sense of smell and Dirt¡¯s taste, everything they ate was so rich and vivid and delicious that they rarely wanted to eat on their own anymore.

    Dirt didn¡¯t need much food to fill up, so he was done first. Satisfied, he sat back and severed the mind meld to relax while Socks finished off what remaining meat he could find. It was still a little disorienting, losing half of his senses that way. At least, that¡¯s how it felt until he readjusted to going back to normal.

    -Shall we take a nap now?- asked Socks, licking the last of the blood off his whiskers.

    ¡°Can we go up the road first? I really want to see what¡¯s up there. It was a human place. I¡¯m certain of it.¡±

    -Okay. We can take a nap after we look.- Socks glanced at Dirt, then turned and licked the blood off his face. Dirt held his hands up and Socks licked those clean, too.

    Dirt stepped backward for the pup to lower himself and let him climb up. But he didn¡¯t. Instead, Socks poked his nose into Dirt¡¯s chest, pushed a tiny bit of mana into him and said, -Jump up.-

    As usual, the mana pained him with fiery pressure, feeling unnatural and harmful for a moment until he was able to absorb it. Dirt was getting faster at that, though, and after a few deep breaths and a bit of focus, the burning lump dissipated and filled him with strength.

    He didn¡¯t have much practice doing anything with it yet, since Mother hadn¡¯t let them move more than once or twice a day. And no magic after that first time.

    Well, this was practice. Dirt thought about the mana in his legs, readied himself to use it, and jumped about one body length upward, just enough to reach up for Socks¡¯ shoulder. Not high enough, and he landed off-balance and fell back on his seat.

    The second time, he stepped a few paces away first and got a running start and landed perfectly on the pup¡¯s back.

    Socks hid most of his thoughts, which was probably just as well since he was likely thinking something belittling. Dirt wouldn¡¯t hold that against him, though, especially after seeing himself through his friend¡¯s eyes in the mind meld. Tiny little helpless Dirt, barely able to do something so simple as jump. It really was kind of funny.

    -Only tiny and helpless for now. You¡¯ll learn.-

    ¡°I¡¯ve already started learning.¡±

    -You¡¯ll have to keep on learning, because next year I will be as big as Brother and that¡¯s a lot higher for you to jump.-

    ¡°Next year I¡¯ll be bigger, too. And I¡¯ll be running and jumping as well as you. Just wait.¡±

    -Mother says you will only be a little bit bigger next year. She said your body is already eight years old, and I am only forty-four days old. Humans grow very slowly.-

    Dirt was a bit surprised at that. His body was eight years old? He looked down at himself, not sure what to make of that. He remembered that first feeling of wrongness, of being strangely proportioned, soft and hairless when he first woke up. This was eight years old already? By next year, Socks would more than double in height, let alone weight, and it took humans eight years to get to this point?

    -She said I would be full grown long before you were, and that you¡¯d still be small as an adult. She asked if I would still want to keep you then. I said yes.-

    The big pup shared warm affection along with the words, which made Dirt feel a bit better. Dirt returned it, affectionately nuzzling his head into the beast¡¯s fur.

    ¡°Will you be as big as Father by then? So fast?¡±

    -No, full grown is only a little bigger than Brother. After that, it takes a lot of years to get as big as Father and Mother.-

    ¡°Really? How many?¡±

    -Mother is thousands of years old. I don¡¯t know how many, but Father is much older than that.-

    ¡°But they¡¯re the same size, just about.¡±

    -Father was always that big, from when he was two years old. After he and Mother became a mated pair, she had a lot of growing to do to catch up. He¡¯s a son of the First, and she is several generations younger.-

    Dirt felt a sense of urgency settle in his heart. A year or two, and Socks would be all grown up. Never mind just jumping up to get on his back; Dirt would have to get as strong as a human could get by then, no matter what.

    But there was little time to dwell on that because Socks hurried over to the long, straight indentation in the hillside that cut up through the ridge and started walking up it, sniffed the ground as he went.

    ¡°This was a road. I¡¯m sure of it. It¡¯s all grown over with grass now but the indent is so straight that it has to be. I bet there¡¯s stone under this like that place in the forest. Remember that? Where Mother said not to go in? It¡¯s like that, but longer. And see how it goes all the way up? That must be where the humans lived. Up there on top where it¡¯s flat. The road was for them to get up there.¡±

    -Why would humans make a straight thing just to walk on?-

    ¡°I have no idea. You¡¯re forgetting how small we are, though. We can¡¯t just jump over everything. Come on, let¡¯s go up there! I bet there¡¯s something there. Did Brother go past here?¡±

    -I don¡¯t smell him if he did.-

    ¡°Then we might be the first!¡±

    At that moment, the clouds overhead split apart and let the sun shine down on them directly, blanketing the area in warm light as if to usher them forward. Dirt hollered in excitement and Socks sped up the road.

    The ridge they¡¯d seen from lower down looked even straighter and more even as they got closer, and Dirt suspected it might have been taller once, a long time ago, and the slope toward the bottom was from wind blowing sand and dust there.

    The road ramped upward through a split in the ridge and landed them right in a city. That was the word for it. A city. Ruined stone buildings everywhere, now just roofless shells. Only bits of wall or pillars still stood. The remains of roads, all of it grown over, snaked out in every direction. Pale gray stone, green grass, and fresh sunlight, stretching in every direction.

    -I think we can take a nap later,- said Socks, and Dirt agreed.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 20

    Old weathered gray stonework lay silently in every direction. Seamless bricks of the same gray stone sat stacked in some places, often at corners of buildings, but most had collapsed. Empty door frames interrupted the square footings of vanished buildings and opened to dead streets. Lengths of cement or mortar, flat paving stones; tall, rounded pillars that held up nothing at all; featureless old statuary eroded down to lumps. Every sharp edge was worn round by eons of wind and rain, every surface bleached by the sun. No color but green and dirty white, and the rocky brownish hills surrounding the city.

    Pillars lined the main thoroughfare, twice Socks¡¯ height. Dirt suspected he would have been terribly impressed by them, if he¡¯d seen them before the trees, or before seeing Mother. Instead, it left him feeling conflicted¡ªin part, that he was so small, even in a human place, and in part, that humans couldn¡¯t seem to build anything to rival the den. He¡¯d been amazed by the temple in the forest, and still wanted to go back someday to see what was inside, but after spending several days inside the den, this whole city felt small.

    The wolf pup jumped all the way up onto the nearest pillar and balanced atop it, all four paws bunched together and tail wagging furiously. Then he stepped forward to the next one, and the next, as gracefully as if that¡¯s what the pillars were for in the first place.

    ¡°Are they sturdy? You won¡¯t fall, will you?¡±

    -No, they are sturdy. They don¡¯t even wobble. I could knock one down, though. Want to see?-

    ¡°No, it¡¯s been standing for so long it¡¯d be a shame to knock it over now. Do you have any idea how long it¡¯s been since humans lived here?¡±

    -Mother never told me about this place. I¡¯ll ask her later.-

    ¡°Are there any humans left? For real?¡± asked Dirt, trying to picture people walking these streets. Wearing clothing, men and women, boys and girls. All different sorts of people. He couldn¡¯t picture it no matter how hard he tried. He could picture wooden dolls that looked like Home, though. Or himself. But it wasn¡¯t right.

    -Mother says there are. But not as many as there used to be, and they are far away from here.-

    For the briefest instant, the dead roads filled with color and life. Bright, fluttering cloth hanging from buildings, every surface painted, the streets filled with feet and voices. But it was gone so quickly Dirt wasn¡¯t even sure if it had been his own thought or something Socks had imagined, and it made the dead city feel even emptier.

    ¡°It feels like there aren¡¯t any humans left. Just me,¡± said Dirt, growing melancholic.

    He stepped off the road and into the doorway of a building whose white stone walls still reached taller than him in some places. They were even tall enough in the corners to reveal the sills of windows.

    Dirt walked to the center of the sunny room with footsteps full of meaning, deliberate steps with head held high, as if he belonged there. He tried to recall the feeling of a building, of being in a place for humans, but the sunlight ruined it. No roof, not even much shade this time of day. On a whim, he pulled up a clump of grass and dug down the three or four inches to find the floor, smooth tiles of pale reds and greens and blues.

    Dirt cleared some of the earth away with his hands to expose a little more, then a little more, and found intricate patterns of curved lines and shapes. The wolves might be huge and build huge things like the den, but they didn¡¯t decorate, so that was something.

    He walked from one end of the large room to the other, then through another doorway into a different room. What was it for, he wondered? What did people do in a place like this? Why would anyone need more than one room?

    There was more to this building, but collapsed heaps of rubble kept him from seeing the rest of the floor plan. He dug down a few inches to the floor of this room as well and found more smooth tiles, but no pattern. These ones were all the same color. Disappointing.

    He was being silly, he knew. He should be more excited by all this, but he felt how he felt.

    Dirt stepped into the next building over, pacing through it without stopping, then to the next one. And the next. If he could see where the doorways were, he used them, and if not, he just stepped over the wall footings.

    -What are you looking at over there?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Nothing, really. I¡¯m just trying to figure out what these places were used for, or maybe think what it was like when people were still here. But it¡¯s not doing any good.¡±

    -This is a fun place.-

    ¡°Yeah,¡± replied Dirt. He wasn¡¯t feeling it just now, but why shouldn¡¯t he have a little fun, at least? Socks had the right idea.

    Dirt hopped onto the wall footing and carefully walked along it. It was wide as his shoulders but the top was uneven, requiring him to pay attention. He ascended where the wall ramped up to a corner and got a better look around. Where was the most intact place nearby? He should go find that.

    If he followed a road where it branched off the main one, only a short distance away the whole front half of the building was still standing, and to the side was an intact stairway.

    He jumped down into the grass and ran over to get a better look. The whole front of the building was still there, even the decorative stonework in shapes worn to nubs by countless years of weathering. Dirt couldn¡¯t even tell what they were supposed to be anymore.

    It was two stories, with a doorway and windows on the ground floor and more windows on the next one up. The roof had fallen and the triangle at the top of the wall had lost its corner, but some of the ceiling for both floors was still there.

    Dirt walked inside, then turned around and placed himself where all he could see was the ceiling and walls and the street beyond the door. All human craft filling his perspective. He gazed out the window and said, ¡°Hello, there. Welcome. What brings you here?¡±

    No one answered. Instead, everything seemed even quieter in the silence of anticipation.

    ¡°It is good to see you. It¡¯s been a long time,¡± he said to no one. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I saw you, my dear D¡ª¡­ d¡­¡±

    A rush of nostalgia hit him. A second time, for the briefest instant the walls of pale gray stone became plastered and red, the ground tile clean and covered in something soft, a door of wood filling the frame, and outside the window, someone he recognized.

    It vanished as quickly as it came and refused to come back, no matter how deeply he yearned for it. He knew, deep and true, that he had been here before, or a place just like it. The shape of the doorway and windows struck a resonance in him, but the truth of it, the real memory, was lost forever, just like the people and the place this once had been.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Ah, but he could almost picture it! It was so close, a person, a name! Something real from his past, something precious that he¡¯d lost. D¡­ d¡­ d¡­ It was no use. The name was as dead to him as the person it belonged to. He didn¡¯t even know if it was a man or woman. It may have even been a random sound he picked from imagination, since his own name started with D.

    The tears that came welled up slowly, ever so slowly. He tried to think about anything else and drive them away. He should be happy and having fun. This was a fun place, and humans had made it, and that was unique. There were many such places left, from what he¡¯d seen. Here were things to climb, and warm, cheerful sunlight, and¡­ none of it helped. By the time the tears came out and erupted into crying, he didn¡¯t even know what they were about. They came from a place deeper than his thoughts.

    He tilted his head back and sobbed, shoulders sagging like he was ready to collapse. Hot tears ran down his cheeks and onto his shoulders or got caught in his hair. Dirt stared through the tears at the ceiling, which still had bits of plaster in the corners. It all looked so dead.

    Dirt cried and cried and cried, unable to stop. If he held his breath, his chest shook. If he distracted himself, the sobs came back with twice the force.

    Socks came in from the ruined opposite end of the building where he could fit, since the doorway was too small. He said nothing, just licking Dirt¡¯s tears away and trying to nuzzle him without knocking him over. Finally the pup braced him with one big paw and rubbed the side of his face across Dirt¡¯s body, over and over, stopping only to lick him some more.

    Dirt didn¡¯t look at the pup¡¯s thoughts at all; he didn¡¯t have to. The pup was patient and gentle and tender and he¡¯d be there as long as it took. Dirt knew perfectly well what his friend was telling him.

    The crying was slow to leave, slow enough that the muscles in his chest and throat ached from being over-strained, but it finally did. When Dirt could breathe easy again, he hugged Socks around the muzzle and buried his face in the pup¡¯s shorter facial fur.

    ¡°Thanks, Socks. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do without you.¡±

    -You don¡¯t have to worry about doing anything without me,- the pup replied, hugging Dirt with his bony paw.

    Dirt grinned right into the soft fur. Socks had a way with words.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I got carried away like that.¡±

    -You were sad. You don¡¯t have to apologize. You have great big emotions, even though you are small. But I found something you will like. Want to come see?-

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    -It¡¯s a something. Are you ready to come? Or do you want to rest a little more?-

    ¡°I think I¡¯m fine now. I don¡¯t even know what that was.¡±

    -I do. It¡¯s called grief.-

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dirt. Socks was probably right. What else would it be, after looking at ruined places and thinking about everything that was lost?

    ¡°How do you know what grief is?¡±

    -When Mother was trying to talk me out of keeping you, she said if you died I wouldn¡¯t even see you in the dream, and that I would be very sad and grieve.-

    ¡°Oh.¡± Dirt wanted to ask why Socks didn¡¯t grieve for all the other little pups, but he might get an answer Mother didn¡¯t want him to have, so he didn¡¯t.

    From there they walked down the street together, and to Dirt¡¯s eyes the city was just a ruined city now. Just stones, just cement and mortar, just grass and earth and rubble. Whatever he¡¯d been hoping to connect with wasn¡¯t here, but that was fine, because now he could look at it how it was. Appreciate how it was all laid out in such clean, straight lines. Marvel at how much work it must have taken all the little humans to cut all those stones into squares and stack them just right. What skill it must have taken to decorate everything with facades, or all that handsome patterned tile work they saw peeking through the ground every so often.

    It was quite a walk, which was fine, because Dirt needed to air himself out after all that crying. And even if it was all ruined, there was plenty to see. Old statues in rough outlines of people or animals, near unrecognizable after centuries of weathering. Buildings large and small, pillars standing and fallen.

    Socks stopped in a circular area with a square platform in the center, a foot taller than Dirt was. To the side, half buried in the dirt, was a statue as long as Socks from nose to tail. The exposed part was weather-worn like everything else, but it had a human¡¯s form, seen from the back.

    -Watch this. You will like this. It was buried so it¡¯s still preserved. And I¡¯m going to try something. Mother can lift things with her thoughts, and I think I can now, too. None of the siblings in the den can do this, not even the ones a year older.-

    ¡°When did you learn that?¡±

    -When I heard you start crying, it made me wish I had hands so I could pick you up without using my teeth, and I just sort of realized.-

    ¡°Have you already tried it once?¡±

    -No, I came to get you instead, and I didn¡¯t want to try it on you first. Guess why.-

    Dirt grinned. He smashed his hands together and made a squishing sound with his mouth.

    Socks replied with a mental puff of amusement, his eyes sparkling.

    ¡°Can I help?¡±

    -No. Watch.-

    With that, Socks¡¯ body went taut as he focused on the task. Dirt took a couple steps back to get a better angle to watch. He closed off his thoughts to keep from distracting the pup and waited.

    The huge statue lifted more quietly than Dirt expected. He expected cracking and tearing, but there was none of that. Just a dull crumbling-dirt sound, and the statue rose from the earth and hovered in midair.

    Dirt suppressed his desire to shout, in case Socks was startled and dropped it. With how perfectly he was focusing, that was a real possibility.

    The statue turned to stand upright in the air, then floated over to the plinth, still mostly coated in a couple inches of earth. Socks was just about to set it down when Dirt noticed one foot was broken off, so he gently patted the pup¡¯s leg and stepped forward to point.

    Socks set the statue down in front of the plinth instead, slightly askew and leaning backward to stay upright. As soon as the thing was steady, he collapsed to his belly with a heavy whump.

    Dirt patted the pup¡¯s nose and asked, ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    -Yes, I am just tired. It was heavy. Are you happy?-

    ¡°I am! You rest and I¡¯ll try and get the dirt off so we can see who it is.¡±

    Dirt felt warm inside, a worthy balm to the sadness he¡¯d felt shortly before. It was good to be cared about. But the statue was still exciting, and he hopped over and began cleaning it off.

    The soil came away in big clumps that bore the shape of the carved stone until they hit the ground and broke apart. He got it cleared off high enough to expose a pair of bare, muscular legs halfway up the thigh, and from there he had to get up on the plinth to reach farther. Even standing on his tippy toes, he only got it cleaned off to the belly button, enough to discover that it was a man. He didn¡¯t dare climb up it, because that might tip it over again.

    He slid down from the plinth and sat down next to Socks, resting his arm on the pups¡¯ muzzle.

    -I will try and get the rest,- said Socks. He turned his eyes up to the statue, but otherwise stayed where he was, seeming too tired to move. A moment later, a big chunk of dirt fell away and crashed to the ground at the statue¡¯s feet. Then another, and several more fell all by themselves after their support was gone. A few smaller clumps flew away from its head as if tossed, and that was it.

    The statue was a man with thick muscles and a stern, bearded face. His arms hadn¡¯t survived him toppling over. They were probably buried somewhere nearby, and it seemed a miracle the rest of him had stayed intact. If Dirt ever learned how to heal stone, he might have to come back and find them.

    -That¡¯s a grown human?-

    ¡°I think so. I like it. He looks strong and noble, even without arms. It makes me feel¡­ bold.¡± Dirt knew he was stretching by trying to find more to say so Socks would know how much he appreciated it, but that mighty stone man was human, like him. It was the first human he¡¯d ever seen, and he felt drawn to it, like it belonged to him, or he belonged to it.

    -Will you get that tall when you are grown up?-

    ¡°I honestly have no idea. Well, actually, I don¡¯t think so, because then I wouldn¡¯t fit in any of the doors in these buildings. And my body is already eight years old, so it would have been doing a lot of growing already. I don¡¯t know how much taller adults are but probably not that much. A lot thicker, though. Look at his muscle!¡±

    The comparison to Dirt was laughable, almost. Dirt flexed his chest and nothing happened, not anything like the statue had.

    -Do you hear that?- asked Socks, suddenly sounding a bit apprehensive.

    Dirt paused and listened carefully. ¡°No, nothing.¡±

    Socks opened his mind and began melding their hearing, and Dirt completed it and listened again with the pup¡¯s ears.

    Scratching. Down beneath them, somewhere under the plaza or maybe right under the statue, was a cavity, and something inside was scratching, slowly, over and over. Exactly the same scratch, perfectly timed.

    ¡°What is that?¡± asked Dirt.

    -To me, it sounds like a bone.-

    The two of them rose to their feet, looked at each other, then downward into the ground toward the source of the noise. There was something buried there, moving.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 21

    ¡°I wonder how we can find out what¡¯s down there,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Do you think you could lift up the big square stone the statue was on?¡±

    -No. Well, maybe later. Right now I am tired. I had to lift it with my muscles.-

    ¡°I thought you lifted it with your mind.¡±

    -I did, but the weight had to go somewhere and the only place was into me. There might be a way to do it better. I can ask Mother, or even Father, since he will be pleased with me. Or maybe I just need practice.-

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I couldn¡¯t lift up a rock as big as me. No wonder you need a rest. What about¡­ looking with that gray sight thing you did? The thing that I couldn¡¯t handle. Ghost sight.¡±

    -Mother hasn¡¯t taught me to look under the ground with ghost sight yet. Probably because there¡¯s never anything down there, except for right now. Or maybe because it¡¯s not possible. I don¡¯t know.-

    ¡°Oh.¡± Dirt crawled over to the paving stones around the platform and put his ear against them, seeing if he could hear anything with his human ears. He couldn¡¯t, but his hearing was still melded with Socks¡¯, and the scratching continued. ¡°I guess the first question we should ask, is do we really want to find out what¡¯s doing it? What if it¡¯s something like that tentacle monster?¡±

    -It doesn¡¯t sound big. I am not afraid of whatever it is.-

    ¡°I¡¯m not either. Not yet, at least. And honestly, I want to find out. I just like to be cautious sometimes, because look at me,¡± thought Dirt. He put his legs in the same pose as the statue¡¯s, puffed out his chest, and flexed, grinning all the while.

    Socks huffed in amusement, his eyes getting a bit more life in them. He even spared a bit of energy to start flicking the end of his tail. Lifting that statue really had worn him out.

    ¡°You can rest and I¡¯ll look around. If that scratching is in a tunnel or a chamber down there, maybe I can find a way in.¡±

    -All the buildings here fell down long ago. Why not all the tunnels and chambers?-

    ¡°If there was a room underground and it collapsed, then there¡¯d be a big hole in the ground here, so it must not have. But maybe it¡¯s just a little box, not a big room. Maybe I won¡¯t find anything, but I still want to look. And actually, here, let¡¯s meld our sight, too.¡±

    With their sight shared across the mental connection, Socks closed his eyes to rest and watch what Dirt was doing. Which was good, because seeing from two perspectives at once made Dirt¡¯s body dizzy, and that had been when they were laying down in the den.

    Dirt climbed back up onto the platform and looked anew at the area. The statue¡¯s plinth, worn down as it was, still had two lumps where the feet must have gone once. In fact, the bigger one might have been a foot, with a lumpy shape next to it that was lost to time.

    There was a wide circle of nothing around the statue, wide enough for Socks to be laying down without touching the ring of stone around it. This must have been grass or dirt all along, or something like that, lined with a little wall to look nice.

    Or maybe water, not grass. Humans liked to have water around, judging from the two other human places he¡¯d seen. This was right in the middle of the city, so maybe they put water here for everyone who came to look at the statue.

    The paving stones beyond the circle had nothing growing on them for a dozen paces or more in every direction, exposing the remains of a large plaza right in the center of the city. From here, roads broke off in various directions, including the main one that went down to the plains below.

    Dirt hopped off the plinth and went to look at the deep indentation in the ground where the statue had been. The soil there was compacted and hard, much harder than the grasses to either side. He pulled up a flat rock about the size of his fist and hammered it down to loosen up the dirt, then dug to see if there was more stone underneath. There probably was, but after a few inches he decided it wasn¡¯t worth the effort.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    He stepped out onto the plaza, noticing how warm the stones were getting under his feet, and how comfortable it made them feel to walk on. What was he looking for, anyway? Some way to get down underneath, but what would that be? A hole? A door that opened downward? Some other opening that was all filled in now?

    Dirt considered the closest street, covered by six or more inches of soil and grass. Would a person walk down the middle, or the sides? Probably both. But if the entrance to the underground was in the middle of the road, anyone going past would have to go around it, and that didn¡¯t seem convenient.

    He figured if a road was wider than others, that meant it was used more. Or it was for bigger guests, like Father. Maybe wolves came to visit sometimes, so they built a nice big road for them to go to the right places. But either way, he picked the widest road and started walking down it, keeping to the edge instead of the middle, and looked for clues.

    After about thirty steps, Dirt shrieked in sudden terror when the ground beneath him collapsed, plunging him downward. His feet hit a lip of stone a couple feet down, then bounced to a lower one before his flailing arms caught hold of the grass and stopped his fall.

    Socks severed the partial mind meld and bolted over. Before Dirt had even fully understood what just happened, Socks¡¯ closed his mouth over his head and lifted him out, fangs under his armpits, and badly scraped Dirt¡¯s leg along one of the sides of the hole.

    The pup deposited him a good distance away then stood protectively between him and the hole, ears flat and hackles raised. -Are you okay?-

    Dirt¡¯s heart beat hard enough to thump its way right out of his chest. ¡°I think I¡¯m fine. Thanks for saving me. That was scary! I¡¯m still scared. Oh, wow.¡± He gave a nervous little laugh.

    -I was too slow. If it was deep, you would be gone.-

    ¡°No, you could just come lift me out with your mind.¡±

    -I don¡¯t like it anyway.-

    ¡°Well, me neither, but I¡¯m glad you came to get me so fast. Oh! Uh oh. That¡¯s bleeding a lot,¡± Dirt said, noticing for the first time how bad his scraped leg really was. A gash, still painless, had opened up all the way down his thigh.

    Socks didn¡¯t need to be told and immediately bent down to lick the wound closed. Dirt turned on his side to make it easier, squirming as Socks made sure to get in nice and deep to clean it out properly.

    The bleeding stopped quickly, and even though it still stung, Dirt stood and patted Socks on the nose. ¡°Thanks. I¡¯m really glad you know how to do that. It seems like I get cut on everything, all the time. I need fur or something. But now I really want to see what¡¯s down there. Should I go take a look? If I step over there, will you listen and see if the floor sounds like it¡¯s breaking?¡±

    -No. Stay here.-

    Socks stepped heavily over toward the hole, bouncing his body to put extra weight into his steps just to make sure. He got all the way to it without the ground budging, and when he got to the hole, he gave it a good sniff. His hackles were still raised, but he was calming down.

    ¡°What do you smell in there?¡±

    -I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s strange because there¡¯s not much to smell. But I think the floor was metal here, and now it is rust. The air inside isn¡¯t moving.-

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s been closed so long all the smells went away.¡±

    -I can smell the rust and metal, but not much else.-

    ¡°Can I come look?¡±

    -Yes, but not too close. Stay behind my front paws,- said Socks. A chunk of earth about the size of Dirt¡¯s torso came free with a snap and floated upward, then flew to the side. Then another, with no snap this time. From there, Socks cleared away all the soil to expose a pitted, dingy orange surface that was neither stone nor dirt. It ran flat on along the ground, and toward one end was the hole Dirt had fallen through. A long split ran down the middle.

    ¡°Doors! That¡¯s a door! Or two doors. They¡¯re all rust now. But look, they open up and then you can go inside! We found it! Can you lift them open?¡±

    -No, I don¡¯t think I can. They¡¯re nothing but crumbly rust now. But I can break them.-

    It took almost no effort. Socks placed a front paw on the corner of one door and pushed, and the whole thing collapsed into a thousand pieces and fell inward. Then he stepped around and did the same to the other door.

    -Okay, now you can come look in. But be careful because it might still be sharp.-

    ¡°I know,¡± said Dirt.

    The large rectangular opening was wide enough that with his arms outstretched, Dirt couldn¡¯t touch both sides at once. Beneath the doors was a staircase of polished and unweathered stone, flat and shiny in the sunlight where the rust hadn¡¯t fallen.

    Dirt said, ¡°That¡¯s stairs. You open the doors and then you can go down.¡±

    -Why make little steps instead of just a slope?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t really know. I¡¯ll have to think about that. But first¡­ what do you think?¡±

    At the bottom of the staircase was an arched doorway, empty this time, leading into a hallway that Dirt couldn¡¯t see far into from here. The doorway was too small for Socks to go in, which meant Dirt would have to go alone.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 22

    Dirt hesitated, unsure he really wanted to go in there. Well, he did, but it was dark, and something down there was moving. Socks could probably still hear it scratching, scratching¡­

    He descended the stairway slowly, watching the darkness recede inch by inch.

    -I am nervous having you go in there. You have already gotten into trouble twice today,- said Socks.

    Dirt paused, resting his hand against the smooth stone wall, curling his toes to feel the polished stone stair he stood on. He was only a few stairs away from the bottom now, and only a couple steps from there to the doorway. The sunlight lit up the interior, which was a hallway as wide as the doorway¡ªjust wide enough he could touch both sides with his arms outstretched.

    Socks added, -Mother said not to go in old human places, but all the ones she showed me were above ground so I don¡¯t think this counts. But I am still nervous.-

    ¡°I¡¯m nervous too, but I won¡¯t be able to see very far because I can¡¯t see in the dark like you can, so I can only go in a little bit. And if I see something I¡¯ll come running back out, so wait right here,¡± he said. ¡°But if you really want me to stay out, I will, and we can go do something else.¡±

    Dirt hesitated, somewhat hoping Socks would tell him no. But the pup was just as curious about it as he was, and only said, -We will meld our sight again first so I can help keep an eye on you.-

    ¡°Okay. And I want you to see all this anyway, since we¡¯re exploring it together.¡±

    The two of them opened their minds fully and connected their sense of sight, but this time Socks kept his hearing to himself, probably so he could listen carefully without Dirt¡¯s clumsy senses interfering. Socks closed his eyes and they both watched through Dirt¡¯s.

    Dirt paused again in the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the darkness and listen for any sound. He couldn¡¯t hear the scratching yet, but the air felt heavier here. Cooler, too. The stone was cold beneath his feet and looked remarkably different from all the weather-worn stone outside. It was all flat and smooth, showing very little sign of wear, even down the middle where people once walked.

    A few steps into the shadow and Dirt¡¯s eyes adjusted further to reveal a long hallway, decorated with plaster molding along the ceiling, which was square on top instead of arched like the doorway. He went slowly, giving Socks time to listen for any changes or smell a creature before he got too far.

    -I bet I am the first wolf to ever see in there with eyes,- said Socks. -Maybe not even Mother or Father have seen under there, because the door was hidden, and why would they look?-

    ¡°Everyone is going to swarm us for the story when we get back. Too bad there¡¯s nothing new for them to smell on me. At least, nothing yet.¡±

    A dozen paces ahead, Dirt saw something set into the wall, and once he got closer he found a heavy door made of dark-colored wood with age-blackened hinges and a big latch.

    ¡°Look, Socks, this is a door! And it¡¯s got all its parts, I think. It was to¡­ keep the inside in and the outside out, I suppose. But watch, let¡¯s see if it opens,¡± said Dirt. With feigned confidence, he grabbed the latch and hoped he could figure out how it worked before looking silly. This was a human place, though, and he was a human, and should know all this.

    The latch didn¡¯t move at all and it took him a moment to realize that it was just old and stuck, not that he was doing it wrong.

    -Come and get some mana, and then break it.-

    Dirt considered it, but said, ¡°Maybe later. I don¡¯t want to make a lot of noise yet.¡±

    -Come and get some mana anyway, just in case.-

    That wasn¡¯t a bad idea at all, so Dirt ran back out and up the steps, noting the significant change in temperature once he got up into the sunlight. It was much brighter, too; he had to squint and his eyes watered anyway.

    Socks bumped him on the chest and pushed a little mana in, and Dirt quickly processed and absorbed it.

    -You might find things a human left behind. Keep your eyes open.-

    ¡°Oh, wow, I didn¡¯t even think of that! Human things¡­¡± Dirt¡¯s imagination ran wild, his mind filling with words that matched nothing he knew. Toys. Clothing. Tools. Weapons. Plates and cups. Things he could hold in his fingers, and use with his hands. Or his toes. He could picture absolutely none of it, not even in the most general way, but the feeling of such things was so close he could almost reach out and grab them.

    Dirt sped down the stairs and back into the corridor, feeling his way along the wall all the way to the door before he stopped to give his eyes time to re-adjust. He tried the latch again, and it still didn¡¯t move. But there was another one a bit farther down, and twenty paces past that was a whole row of them, disappearing into darkness. When Dirt tried the latch on the first of those, it snapped off in his hand with a loud crack that made him jump. The door stayed closed, though.

    Looking back up the corridor, he judged he was under the plaza right now, perhaps even close to the giant statue¡¯s platform. It was too dark to make much out anymore, even after giving himself time to adjust, but the doors here looked decorated, showing the faintest glints of reflective metal, cool and smooth under his fingertips. The doors were carved, too, and Dirt traced his fingers along the curving grooves of the designs and wished he could see what they looked like.

    -Can you still not hear it?-

    Dirt stopped and listened carefully, holding his breath. The cold, heavy air rested silently against his skin, thick and hard to breathe, like it was almost a liquid. Through the silence, he finally heard it. Scratch¡­ scratch¡­ scratch¡­ scratch¡­ on and on, in perfect rhythm.

    He felt his way along the corridor toward the sound and stopped in front of the door where the sound was. It was right behind the door, scratching on the wood. It was loud now, almost echoing in the silence. The whole heavy door, twice as tall as he was, reverberated with it. Scratch¡­ scratch¡­

    -Did you stop there because you hear it now? We can¡¯t see much anymore.-

    ¡°Yeah, I hear it. This is another door, and the scratching is on the other side.¡±

    -What is it?-

    The more he listened, the more the sound chilled him. His curiosity gave way to dread, and he dared not even reach his fingertips back out to touch the door.

    It was right there, whatever it was. Right on the other side of a few inches of old wood. Locked away in darkness, trying to get out.

    Dirt almost panicked at the thought. It was trying to get out, whatever it was. It had been locked away for an impossibly long time, and what if it was a person? Could someone live that long?

    He tried to say, ¡°Hello?¡± but his voice caught in his throat.

    -Can you guess what it is?- asked Socks again. He was starting to sound nervous again. He¡¯d probably tell Dirt to come back any second now.

    ¡°No, but it¡¯s just a step or two away from me. I¡¯m getting scared, though,¡± Dirt admitted. The words didn¡¯t do it justice; he was terrified.

    Dirt reached his hand for the latch, shaking so hard he missed it the first time. He was trembling from head to toe. Every part of him knew this was a bad idea, but in his mind, he thought to himself, You are being silly. It¡¯s probably a bug.

    -Get ready to run.-

    ¡°Can you see my hand?¡±

    -No, but I can see your thoughts, silly.-

    ¡°Oh, right.¡±

    Dirt looked back up the corridor, which seemed frightfully long now. Well, he had to do it now or he never, ever would. Dirt pushed the latch, and it turned. This one turned. Of course it did. He pulled, but the door was stuck. Dirt surged the mana into his muscles, giving himself a sudden burst of fiery strength, and pulled again.

    The door ripped from the wall with a deafening crash, coming entirely off the hinges and breaking into pieces.

    Dirt screamed and ran with all his might back up the corridor. He screamed with every breath, unable to stop, desperate to make his legs move faster and faster.

    -RUN!- screamed Socks in Dirt¡¯s mind.

    The wolf¡¯s warning stunned him into clarity. Why was he running? It was just a door, hiding some little scratchy thing. He¡¯d made a lot of noise and startled himself but that was it.

    But before he turned to look back, he heard not one scratch but hundreds echoing loudly up the corridor from behind him.

    Dirt had hardly slowed down, but Socks squeezed into the stairwell and poked his nose through the doorway. As soon as the pup could see him, Dirt felt an invisible hand grab him and yank him forward.

    Socks stepped back just far enough to get Dirt through the doorway, then leaped away, pulling Dirt through the empty air behind him. Before they landed, Socks set him on his back and Dirt grabbed on for dear life.

    The pup landed a short distance away, facing the stairwell with a low rumbling growl. Dirt realized Socks had broken the meld of their sight, probably when he¡¯d come down the stairs to get him.

    ¡°What do you smell? What is it?¡±

    -I hear it. It¡¯s big. Mother did not send us to get in a fight, so if it looks dangerous we are running away.-

    Before Dirt could respond, a dark purple substance holding countless bones burst from the doorway and shot up the stairs toward them, sending out tendrils full of bone shards and ancient teeth.

    Socks leaped backward, but the mass was shockingly fast. It moved like it had no weight at all, bubbling up from below and rushing for them too quickly for Dirt to react.

    Somehow the pup was faster and leaped away, a jump with mana in it that shot them fifty paces into the air and landed them a good distance back.

    The dark, swirling purple mass rose up from underground like a bubble, the bones from hundreds of corpses spinning within it. It looked even darker against the bright cloudy sky, giving its horror a stark contrast against the peaceful scenery.

    The tendrils withdrew as it grew into a towering column, expanding larger and larger until it was three times Socks¡¯ height. It reminded Dirt of fog, but with a skin. It had a surface, all smooth and faintly glossy in the sunlight.

    The fat column of purple smoke expanded and coalesced into a face that became a leering skull with empty eyes, staring right at them.

    Dirt whimpered and looked away. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±

    The thing opened its skeletal jaw, revealing a blackness that couldn¡¯t be explained, darker than night. It drew light in, dimming the air around it.

    Then it screamed, a diseased, grating, wretched sound that was so loud Dirt had to cover his ears to keep from going deaf. The sound scraped at his soul, tearing parts of him that had no name. In every way, that thing was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, an abomination. A thing that should not be.

    -Watch,- said Socks.

    Dirt opened his eyes, close to weeping for horror. The massive skull shifted and rose a little higher and a collarbone began to take shape, like it was a whole person in there squeezing out bit by bit.

    A new sound split the air, high and fierce. A wolf¡¯s howl, primal and immense. The sound was full of such terrifying majesty that it filled Dirt with awe.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Father. Dirt knew that in an instant. Father, the most terrifying being who existed, declared that this was his territory and nothing was welcome except he allowed it in.

    The air itself trembled and bowed in reverence. The earth shuddered anxiously beneath them.

    Without a sound, the dark skull-shaped mass broke apart with a roaring hiss and faded like a wisp of steam. Thousands of bones fell and clattered noisily to the earth, some hitting the stairs and shattering.

    Socks joined the howl, raising his head and singing into the sky.

    Dirt stood up on Socks¡¯ back and howled along with them, even though his lungs couldn¡¯t hold the note anywhere near as long. His was more a howl of terror than one of triumph, but he didn¡¯t know what else to do. His mind was still reeling.

    He and Socks howled and howled, long after Father had ceased. From there, it only took a moment for them both to notice how silly Dirt¡¯s voice sounded in comparison and Dirt broke out laughing, even though it felt hollow, like a reaction instead of anything true. Socks wagged his tail furiously in amusement.

    -You can try and claim some territory but I don¡¯t think anything will be impressed.-

    Dirt giggled. ¡°For someone that can¡¯t laugh, you sure make a lot of jokes.¡±

    Socks huffed.

    ¡°I claim this spot on your back. See? Nothing is coming in. Who would dare invade the domain of Dirt?¡±

    -My back is already claimed by me.-

    ¡°I¡¯ll fight you for it.¡±

    Socks found that hilarious and wagged his tail even harder.

    ¡°Hey, Socks, you know what I just realized?¡±

    -What?-

    ¡°You caught me with your mind and didn¡¯t smoosh me.¡±

    The pup thought about that for a moment. Dirt got the sense that Socks hadn¡¯t realized it either. It had simply happened from instinct in the urgency of the moment.

    ¡°Catch me!¡± thought Dirt. Then he jumped right off Socks¡¯ back.

    Socks turned his head, startled, but still caught him in time.

    -Don¡¯t do that.-

    ¡°I knew you¡¯d catch me.¡±

    -I didn¡¯t know I¡¯d catch you.-

    ¡°Yes, but look, you can do it now. See? You¡¯re holding me just fine. You¡¯re already getting good at this, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Socks stared, holding Dirt a foot or two off the ground. Then Dirt floated up toward the pup¡¯s face and stopped an arm¡¯s length back from his nose. Socks licked him once, then set him on the ground.

    Dirt picked up a bone and thought, ¡°Can you catch this?¡± He threw it as hard as he could, but it only went a few feet before it stopped in midair.

    ¡°Now this one, too!¡± He threw another in a different direction, which Socks also caught. Then a third, and Socks dropped the first two trying to reach for that one.

    Dirt stopped and grew serious. He sat down on the grass and let out a big sigh. ¡°All right, we can practice that later. I¡¯m still so terrified I can hardly think. I¡­ wow. It¡¯s really catching up to me. I think I might throw up.¡±

    -Hold it in,- said Socks.

    Dirt tried to breathe deeply and not vomit, but there was so much leftover terror in his blood that he couldn¡¯t make himself feel right again. He felt sick from hair to toes, even in his muscles and bones. Shaky. Hollow.

    -Don¡¯t throw up on me,- said Socks. Then the pup picked him up with his mind again and furiously licked his face.

    Dirt tried to fight the tongue off with his hands, but to no avail. It was stronger than his arms and kept pushing them away. ¡°Stop, that¡¯s enough!¡±

    -Not until you feel better. And you still taste like dirt.-

    ¡°I probably taste like wolf spit!¡±

    -Nope, still dirt. You will always taste like Dirt.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no fair that I don¡¯t know any jokes about socks,¡± said Dirt.

    The pup¡¯s good spirits were infectious, leaking out of his thoughts into Dirt¡¯s own. Socks was mostly still fine, with only a little fear way in the back. That fear had to do with Dirt, not towering smoke-skull monsters full of human bones.

    ¡°Okay, okay, I promise to feel better. Put me down and let me get some air.¡±

    Socks obliged, and Dirt ran in a little circle, then jumped a few times, and got his blood pumping again. It helped clear his mind.

    -It looks like you are not going to throw up.-

    ¡°Nope, I think I¡¯m fine now. Thanks, Socks. That really helped. So, what was that thing? Did Father tell you?¡±

    Socks leaned down to sniff him and said, -No, but he said it was from an enemy far beyond me. It wasn¡¯t a thing by itself. It was part of something else that doesn¡¯t belong here, and he will tell me more when I¡¯m older. He also said it was not the reason Mother won¡¯t let me go into that human building we saw. That temple. But he did say it should be safe to go back down there, if you want to take another look.-

    ¡°He said it should be, or it is?¡±

    -It is. At least, safe from that.-

    Dirt pondered that for a moment, trying to decide if he really wanted to go back down there. It was all dark anyway, and he hadn¡¯t found anything. And beside that, he was still scared.

    -I can give you more mana, and you can break the doors and look in.-

    Dirt looked up at his friend.

    Socks picked him up with his mind, brought him to his nose, and licked him yet again. Then he set him back down.

    ¡°You¡¯re never going to stop doing that, are you?¡±

    -Nope.-

    Dirt grinned. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll go look again. Fear with a reason is good, but fear without a reason is just being silly.¡±

    -Good. Take courage, little Dirt.-

    He walked carefully over to the stairway, trying not to step on any of the bones that littered the ground. Some of them looked sharp, even if they all seemed like they were ready to crumble. He picked up one, suddenly curious, and sure enough, it ground to powder between his fingers with very little effort. What did that mean, exactly? Were they really old, or had something happened to them?

    The staircase downward was covered in shattered bone, far too much to try and walk down, so Dirt had to sweep each step away with his foot before moving. Socks padded silently behind him, nose low to the ground.

    ¡°Hey, Socks, do you smell anything with the bones?¡±

    -No. They are so old they hardly even smell like bones. I am curious why I can¡¯t smell anything from that big¡­ stuff. But if it had all those bones together in one place, it must have eaten all the humans, so it must have been there for a long time too. So why can¡¯t I smell it?-

    Dirt had no idea, but that was a good question. Socks could smell bug urine, so why not anything from that huge purple mass?

    Before Dirt made it down to the doorway, Socks leaned down and gave him a little mana, which Dirt quickly processed. It sure would be nice if he could hold more, especially since his mana body was supposed to have been repaired. Maybe humans just couldn¡¯t hold any mana, but if that were true, then why did the word ¡®magic¡¯ hold such importance in his lost memories? Oh well.

    -I wish Brother were here,- said Socks, indicating by the coloration of ¡®brother¡¯ that he meant the strongest of the litter. -He can make fire, and then you could see down there.-

    ¡°Fire? He can make fire? What¡¯s that?¡± Like so much else, Dirt knew the word, but had no mental picture for it.

    -That¡¯s why he¡¯s the first strongest. And fire is this.- Socks sent him a mental image of a little tree all in flames, burning away into ash. It radiated tremendous heat and lit the surrounding little forest almost bright as sunlight. Smoke rose above it far into the sky, filling the area with a rich, complicated, and dangerous scent. Fire. Obvious. How could Dirt forget about fire?

    ¡°How would I take it down with me?¡±

    Socks had no reply for that, so Dirt just shrugged and kept going. Once Dirt stepped through the open doorway into the underground corridor, he found it swept clear of bones, except the few that had bounced this far inside. He¡¯d wondered if the thing left a trail, but there was nothing like that. The stone floor looked just as he¡¯d left it. All the commotion had raised a lot of dust, though, which hung in the air and irritated his nose and throat.

    Socks reached out for another mind meld, so Dirt shared his vision again. He should¡¯ve done that earlier.

    When he reached the first door, his eyes were still adjusting to the dim light, so he paused a moment before trying the latch again. Actually, no, he should go and peek in where the monster came out, and see what was there.

    Dirt crept along the corridor, tracing his fingers along the flat stone as he went, walking slowly and opening his eyes as wide as they¡¯d go to try and see better.

    He bumped his toes into the fallen door before he saw it laying on the ground and it was so heavy it didn¡¯t budge. He stepped up onto it, surprised that it was resting so perfectly it didn¡¯t make a sound.

    The broken doorway stood out in the dim light as a rectangle of even darker blackness, perfectly silent and still.

    -I wish you could see better in the dark.-

    ¡°Me too. I think I¡¯ll feel around in there for a second and see if it¡¯s a room or something else.¡±

    -What else would it be?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Dirt crept through the doorway, feeling ahead with one hand and tracing the other along the wall. His body was taut and ready to bolt at any moment, but he went in anyway, walking through and along the wall to his left.

    His hand brushed against a thread dangling from the wall, and he traced his hand down to the bottom and found a metal ring in a circle as wide as three fingers. Without thinking, he gave it a sharp tug.

    He heard a scraping sound above him and saw a flash of light. Before he could turn and look up to see what it was, the room flared to life.

    Lamps lined the huge space, and the three closest had come alight when he pulled the string. He found himself in a wide, circular room that went down several levels from where he stood. A railing in front of him would have kept him from tumbling off the edge, and a solid stairway to his right curved along the wall all the way to the bottom.

    Excitement filled him. The flickering lamplight made the room look huge, an effect magnified by how the far end faded into shadow where the lamps couldn¡¯t reach well. Every inch of wall was covered by small, square doors, only a bit wider than his shoulders. Many of them were opened, some hanging on hinges and others toppled to the ground. The open ones were all empty, and the floor down below was covered in heaps of all sorts of things. Vast numbers of bones, but other things too¡ªcloth and metal and clay, all mindlessly strewn around.

    Dirt thought, ¡°Wow, look, Socks!¡± and raced down the stairs. When he got to the bottom, he lifted the first length of cloth he found, pale white like most of the rest. It tore apart so easily that he came away with a bit of cloth about the size of his fingertips, and by the time he lifted it to his eyes for a look, he¡¯d crushed it almost to powder.

    The cloth looked like it had been draped across a skeleton and then been tossed here in a pile. Dirt squatted down for a better look, carefully lifting here and pulling there, and decided what he was looking at wasn¡¯t clothing after all. The cloths were meant to cover the skeletons from head to toe, and no one would walk around wearing something that covered their eyes, so it was something else.

    Dirt pulled open one of the little doors on the wall and looked inside, and sure enough, an ancient skeleton wrapped in the pale cloth.

    ¡°I think the humans used to put these cloths on dead ones and then put them in here. I think they put the cloths on when they still had flesh on them, because look, it doesn¡¯t fit right for a skeleton,¡± explained Dirt.

    -Why?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t have any idea.¡±

    -What is that shiny thing? Back there, on the ground behind the arm.-

    Dirt looked down at something that had caught the pup¡¯s attention but not his. He pulled up a delicate length of gold chain as long as his arm, made of links so fine he could barely see them unless he looked closely. Near the bottom end of it, a golden clasp held a polished purple gemstone.

    He collected the chain carefully in his palm and carried it up the stairs to a lamp to get a better look at it. Its golden surface was perfect and clear and gleamed brightly in the lamplight. The tiny, miraculous links of the chain were so small he wondered if a human had made it at all, or some tinier creature. The purple gemstone wasn¡¯t as impressive as the rest, but Dirt guessed it must have been important to be worthy of the chain.

    -What is that?-

    ¡°It¡¯s a necklace. It used to make a loop so a human could wear it around their neck for everyone to admire.¡±

    -Why? It seems useless.-

    ¡°Yeah, it does. I only remember that it¡¯s a necklace, but not what it was for. Maybe the gemstone was good for something. But it¡¯s pretty. How do you think we made the links so small?¡±

    -I cannot imagine how. Maybe Mother will tell us. Do you think it¡¯s here because you can¡¯t digest it?-

    Dirt wasn¡¯t sure what to make of that. Socks assumed that these bones were like the ones outside the den¡ªuneaten leftovers. Dirt didn¡¯t think that was it, but the more he mulled it over the less he could guess what this place actually was. What were all these bones doing here, wrapped up in cloth? Why would anyone do that? Did that purple smoke monster eat them all and leave some portion of bones here?

    ¡°Oh! Socks, I bet I know! There were so many humans, that they had to put them all somewhere when they died, so they stuck them in here. They put these cloths on them and put them in the walls. I guess you have to put them somewhere, since, for example, I couldn¡¯t eat a whole adult. So I think what happened, is when someone died and no one wanted to eat any, they wrapped them up and put them down here. And maybe humans never eat their dead at all, so there were lots of them around.¡±

    -Wolves don¡¯t eat other wolves except for when Mother eats a pup. But there are also not enough of us to matter where we lay when we die, so I think you¡¯re right. Humans seem to make lots of little places for all sorts of things, so why not that? Keep looking around. Maybe you will find something you want to take.-

    Dirt set the necklace down on the ground and hurried back down the stairs. He picked around through the rubble, tearing ancient cloth and crushing bone with every step. There was nothing he could do about that, though. The entire floor of the room was covered in litter and there was nowhere else to walk.

    Digging into a pile taller than he was, he was surprised to find a table, and after clearing more of it away, a chair to go with it. Both were made of carved and polished wood, stately and square in perfect symmetry. He cleared off as much of the table as he could, tossing aside handfuls of old garbage as fast as he could get his fingers around it.

    The table was inlaid with little white squares around the edges of the surface, making a handsome decorative border. The thing seemed sturdy enough, so he carefully sat on the chair, which creaked but held up, and rested his arms on the table.

    ¡°Look, Socks, this is called furniture. I think humans had a lot of this stuff around.¡±

    -Why not just sit on the ground? Is that more comfortable than the ground?-

    ¡°No, honestly, it isn¡¯t. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯d want one. I¡¯m starting to think humans make lots of stuff they don¡¯t really need.¡±

    -There was a big pile in the middle. Go see what was under that.-

    Dirt slid off the chair and gingerly made his way to the center of the room and started digging through the garbage. He found more bits of jewelry and a few little clay pots painted with bright patterns of red and black, but the real prize was a fallen statue underneath it all, half again his size.

    He threw all the old bone and cloth and whatever else aside in a flurry to lay the statue bare, but he quickly noticed that something about it was wrong. The arm was twisted and misshapen, like it had been carved to resemble a broken one. The face was a beardless man, screaming in unmoving agony for eternity. Red paint dripped from the eyes to make it look like he was suffering. The other arm was twisted at an impossible angle too, and the torso had deep gashes that bled and exposed his innards.

    Dirt stepped back, growing uneasy. The statue looked more like a man of stone who had been tortured¡ªwas being tortured¡ªthan just a statue carved that way from the first. The thing¡¯s legs bones were shattered, too, but the stone was intact and Dirt couldn¡¯t see how the statue had ever been able to stand. And it must have been able to once, because the plinth was right there next to it.

    It had such a sense of life and reality to it that Dirt felt sick. He stepped back, then back again. He grew more certain the longer he looked. This was not a statue of a suffering man. The statue itself had been made to suffer. It had stood once, right on that plinth, but now was injured and tortured and fallen to the ground.

    ¡°Oh, no, no, no,¡± he said aloud, his voice intruding on the silence, his heart aching. Something about it was wrong, so wrong it hurt him inside, so wrong he could feel it like sacrilege and sickness discoloring his soul.

    ¡°No, no, that can¡¯t¡­ that can¡¯t be! How could that happen?¡±

    -What is it?-

    Dirt tried to answer, and in that moment he knew the word. Just as he knew a door when he saw it, or a tree, or a wolf. ¡°It¡¯s a god!¡±

 Ancient Things - Chapter 23

    Socks said, -Do you know what a god is?-

    Dirt was too distracted to answer, though, and he stepped back, almost afraid it¡¯d start moving. It was so lifelike he was sure it would, and that made it impossible to look away.

    Until he tripped and stumbled backward, falling all splayed out in a big pile of bones and cloth that immediately pulverized and filled the air with thick dust. Then he started coughing and had to get up and move up the stairs to find fresher air, and from there, he didn¡¯t look back again. In the doorway, he pulled the second cord and plunged the area into silent darkness. The smoke from the burning oil lamps going smelled familiar, even though this was the first time he¡¯d encountered it.

    He stepped into the corridor and tried to ignore the creeping guilt about leaving that statue there, all alone in the dark. Maybe there was something he could or should have done, but he couldn¡¯t imagine what it might be. It wasn¡¯t a living thing; he didn¡¯t see any minds around except for Socks.

    No mind visible in that suffering statue of a god, yet he still felt like it was watching him anyway, begging for relief. Aloud, he muttered, ¡°I¡¯ll come back for you. When I know what to do, I¡¯ll come back. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    It felt like something important and subtle had changed. Something forgotten had been viewed again, a lost door opened that might have been better left closed. But that was silly. There was nothing moving down there, nothing alive. Not anymore.

    Dirt smacked himself in the cheeks a couple times to try and clear his head, and it helped a little. He thought, ¡°Sorry, Socks. I got distracted. But I still have that mana. Which door should I go in?¡±

    -Go in the closest one to the light so we can see it better, in case it doesn¡¯t have lamps like the other place.-

    ¡°That¡¯s a good idea. But I bet it¡¯s just full of old bones. I bet they all are.¡±

    -Maybe.-

    Socks¡¯ mind showed he was still anxious for his little Dirt, which helped Dirt push the frightful image of the god further out of his mind. If Socks was worried, then Dirt¡¯s job was to cheer up. He sped down the corridor to the first door and said, ¡°Okay, here I go! Let¡¯s see what¡¯s in there.¡±

    Dirt tried the latch and it still wouldn¡¯t budge in the slightest. He surged the mana, strengthening himself from head to toe, and yanked as hard as he could. The latch came away in his hand, tossing him backward far enough to thump his head on the opposite wall.

    He laughed, in part because he felt stupid and in part to show Socks he was fine. He got up, rubbing the back of his head. Looking at the latch in his hand, he found a clump of fiddly little bits of decaying metal still attached. When he checked the door again, it swung open easily, creaking loudly on its hinges until they broke. The heavy wooden door toppled clumsily to the ground, just slow enough that Dirt could scamper backward before it fell on him.

    The other side of the doorway had a pull-cord for a lamp like the big room and a simple tug was all it took to ignite it. Dirt found that curious, now that he thought about it. He knew that lamps burned oil, and that sparks started the fire, but why were they working when not even the doors did anymore? Maybe oil was like gold, which didn¡¯t seem to decay at all no matter how long it had been.

    This was another hallway, not a room, with a series of ornate doors along both sides of its length.

    -Wait. Look at that lamp some more. Turn it on and off a couple times. I want to see.-

    ¡°Sure!¡± Dirt looked at the lamp, examining it in more detail. It was enclosed in glass, with a sparker connected to the pull cord¡ªa length of filaments of metal and thread twined together to make a thin rope. The second pull cord pulled a cap over the flame to put it out.

    Dirt put out the flame, casting the hall into darkness, and lit it again, watching the sparks dance inside the enclosure. The oil was concealed inside the device, and Dirt didn¡¯t want to break it to show Socks. But he put it out, then lit it again, several more times.

    -I think I learned something. Okay. Keep going. Look at that first door.-

    Dirt stepped over to the first door on the left, opposite another one on the right. This door was narrower than the ones in the larger corridor, but still about twice his height. It was decorated with a series of rectangles up and down, with circles inside those. In the very center of the door was a metal plaque, which read, O ARMENTARIUS MORTUORUM, GUIDE WELL THE SPIRIT OF CALLIUS EXEGUS NEMETERIUS, A MAGISTRATE AND A SON OF PELATIA, WHO LIES HERE. HE WAS 66 YEARS IN LIFE. HIS HEIR CLOSED THIS DOOR.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    -What is that? What are those little things we are looking at?-

    Dirt blinked. Of course Socks wouldn¡¯t know how to read. But how come Dirt could? What a silly thing to be able to do, when he couldn¡¯t even remember the name of¡­ of¡­

    A hint of a memory crossed his mind, one of twirling cloth; of long, shining hair, but nothing more. It faded as quickly as it appeared. Had that been a woman, he wondered? Oh well. She was gone now.

    ¡°This is called writing. Each symbol represents a different sound, so you can put all the symbols together and the door can talk to you,¡± thought Dirt. He read the inscription to Socks and said, ¡°There must be an important corpse behind it.¡±

    -Can you teach me to hear the door?-

    ¡°Of course, as long as I can remember it all. It¡¯s called reading, and I completely forgot it existed until I saw this just now. That¡¯s happening a lot today. Lamps. Corridors. Rooms. Jewelry. I feel like my mind is wearing out from too many new things,¡± thought Dirt, making a little joke, but once he said it he realized it was true. This had been an exhausting day.

    Dirt looked the door over but found no latch to pull it open. The hinges were on the outside, but no latch. This one must have been intended to stay shut. He ran up to Socks to get another little puff of mana and was pleased that the painful burning lump of power seemed to hurt a little less each time. He processed it quickly and by the time he got back to the door, he was ready. This time, instead of yanking it open, he used the mana to strengthen his hands and rip the hinges away. From there, he could just barely get his fingertips in the gap between door and frame and pull it enough to topple it.

    The door clattered noisily to the floor, exposing a small room with a single platform inside just big enough to rest a dead body on. From the inscription, Dirt knew it was an adult man, and now he knew exactly how big adults were.

    The skeleton wasn¡¯t wrapped in the same cloth as the ones in the big room further down the hall; it had an ornate tunic of blue with wide embroidery of gold thread along the edges. Swirling patterns and shapes wove together with plants and flowers in a rich, unending design. Much of the blue was darkened and stained, probably from when he still had flesh on him, but it was still terribly impressive.

    ¡°Clothing. That¡¯s clothes, Socks. I think humans used to walk around wearing those sometimes.¡±

    -Why?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but maybe because we don¡¯t have fur?¡±

    -Is that what you named me after? Something like that?- asked Socks.

    ¡°No, look, he doesn¡¯t have socks on. Those go on your feet. And now that you mention it, I wonder how I knew that. I must have really liked them. There aren¡¯t very many things I knew about before I saw them.¡±

    -What is that other thing around his middle?-

    Dirt looked again and found a handsome leather strap around the skeleton¡¯s waist, still dark with oil and decorated with crisscrossing lines all across its surface. The leather strap held a knife and sheath on the skeleton¡¯s side, where it¡¯d grab with its right hand if it was alive.

    ¡°A knife! Oh, wow! Socks, look at this!¡±

    Dirt grabbed the ivory handle and pulled it from the sheath, exposing metal as clear and bright as the day they put it in there, a foot long and curving up to a graceful point. ¡°This is amazing! I can use this! I can really keep this one. It¡¯s like a little claw of my own!¡±

    -What is it for?-

    ¡°This edge here cuts. And the point stabs. So if I run into something that¡¯s, oh, I don¡¯t know, goblin size or smaller, I can fight it and cut it up. Or if I want to eat something but the skin is too tough for my teeth, I can cut it open to get inside and eat the soft parts.¡±

    Dirt pulled the skeleton and fragile tunic apart to get the whole leather belt off, then tested it to see if it would hold up. Somehow, miraculously, it was sturdy enough to use. He slung it over his shoulder, since his waist was way too small to use it as a belt, and sheathed the knife.

    He was grinning from ear to ear as he walked back out and up the stairs. Socks grabbed him with his mind and lifted him up, pinning his arms to his sides and licking him. Dirt laughed and squirmed, so Socks licked him one more time, then gave him a puff of mana and set him down.

    -Jump up,- he said, wagging his tail.

    Dirt processed the mana and immediately strengthened his legs for a jump, landing perfectly on Socks¡¯ back, right above his front legs.

    -You are already good at that.-

    ¡°Yes, but don¡¯t make me think about it too much, because I did that on instinct and I¡¯ll probably mess up next time.¡±

    Socks found that amusing and Dirt could see him considering grabbing and licking him again. The pup wasn¡¯t hiding his thoughts in the slightest at the moment.

    -Is there anything else you want to do here?-

    ¡°There¡¯s lots more doors, but we can save those for another time. I¡¯m worn out and we did enough stuff for me today. Let¡¯s do something you want now.¡±

    -I want to take a nap.-

    ¡°So do I.¡±

    Socks carried them out of the city, past all the ruined footings of buildings and grass-covered roads, away from all the crumbling old bricks and forgotten places and buried dead. He walked quickly instead of running, a calm, easy pace to soak up more sunlight before he found a comfortable spot to lay down.

    They left the plateau city and traveled in the direction of the hills and trails that brought them here, down into the little valleys and short canyons where deer ran, and where Brother¡¯s trail was found.

    Socks stopped in a small copse of trees, choked with bushes and tangles of vines, and lay down at its edge, part of his body in the shade.

    Dirt climbed around to rest by Socks¡¯ neck, near his shoulder, and curled up in the pup¡¯s soft, poofy fur. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. ¡°Socks, make sure I don¡¯t dream about dead gods. I don¡¯t want a nightmare right now.¡±

    -Don¡¯t worry. We will walk the dream together like always. And then when we wake up, I want to figure out how to make fire. Watching the lamp gave me an idea.-

 Ancient Things - Chapter 24

    Socks slept longer than Dirt did, but that was fine. Dirt was content to quietly lay there in his fur, enjoying the warmth and watching the sun play amongst the clouds that rolled across the sky. Again and again, his mind returned to the city. Humans must be complicated creatures, to have so many places and things they made.

    The image of that twisted, tortured god still bothered him, but he could dismiss the memory a little more easily because he had promised to come back. And he would someday. And so much else had happened, he couldn¡¯t just dwell on one thing.

    That giant smoke monster still haunted him any time he caught a glimpse of a large shadow at the edge of his vision, but he was able to ignore that each time it happened because Father would protect him. Well, not him, but Father wouldn¡¯t allow whatever that was to be here. So if Dirt managed to find another one, Father would surely chase it away again. Dirt just had to get away from it in time. In fact, maybe Father would be happy that Dirt found more so he could get rid of them all. Well, no, probably not. That didn¡¯t sound right.

    Dirt pulled out his knife and looked at it again, admiring the craftsmanship. It was like nothing else in nature. Not like the clubs the goblins used, or anything else. Dirt could imagine taking rocks and making them square to build with, and goblins using bones to hit things made perfect sense. He¡¯d expected humans to be the same and just take things they found and use them, with perhaps some modification as needed.

    But the knife was something else entirely. It wasn¡¯t a part of nature, or something that you¡¯d figure out from nature, like building with stone or wood. It was a thing of humans and only humans. Separate. Where did the metal even come from? And how did they shape it? There had been all kinds of metal objects down there¡ªhinges and things, for example.

    Why did they go through so much trouble when it was just fine living like Dirt did? That was the real question. Dirt felt like he understood his own kind less now, not more. Maybe someday he would see a bunch together and it would all make sense.

    For now, Dirt was as happy as he could imagine anyone being. He gripped the knife tightly, admiring the feel of it in his fingers, then placed it back in the sheath and pressed it against his chest. The knife was a reminder of two things¡ªone, that he was human, and humans were interesting and clever and talented. And much more meaningfully, he had this knife because Socks was his friend. Dirt would never have found that place otherwise.

    The pup stirred beneath him, his mind filling with thoughts as he woke.

    ¡°Socks! I just had the best idea.¡±

    -Let me wake up first.-

    ¡°Okay, but I¡¯m going to tell you anyway. You know what you could do? You could lift me with your mind to the exact spot you want me to scratch. Then you won¡¯t have to figure out how to twist around so I can reach.¡±

    -For now you can scratch under my ear.-

    Dirt grinned and crawled over. He dug his fingers in, scratching vigorously.

    -You are very convenient.-

    After only a few more spots, Socks decided that was enough. Dirt crawled to the pup¡¯s back as he stood up, but Socks grabbed him and lifted him up higher in the air, shook himself vigorously from nose to tail, and set him down on the ground.

    -We are not going anywhere just yet. First I will make fire.-

    ¡°You learned how from the lamps?¡±

    -Brother can make big fire everywhere. He always could, even before he could open his eyes. But when I tried, I was trying to make it big like his and nothing happened. Fire can start small, though. I learned that from the lamps. I never saw small fire before that.-

    ¡°Will it get everywhere? I don¡¯t want to get any on me,¡± asked Dirt nervously.

    -No, we will run away if it gets too big and comes close. My fur will burn.-

    Socks didn¡¯t sound as confident as he probably wanted to, but if he said they could get away, then that was good enough.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Dirt stepped a few steps away and closed off his thoughts so Socks could concentrate. The pup¡¯s body tightened in concentration and he stared unblinking into the little copse of trees and brush ahead of them. Nothing happened, even though Dirt could feel mana swirling.

    Time passed without the appearance of any fire. Other things happened, though. The air pressure changed a little. Subtle waves of power shuddered through him, but didn¡¯t affect the grass he was standing in. Socks gave a little whine, trying to stay focused through his frustration. Whatever he was doing wasn¡¯t working.

    The giant pup flopped to his belly and lay his head on the ground.

    Dirt panicked a little. ¡°Socks? Are you okay?¡±

    -I am fine. I am not even tired. I am just annoyed. It isn¡¯t working.-

    ¡°What were you trying?¡±

    Socks sent him a mental image of what his plans were. He had been focusing on the trunk of the closest tree, looking at an old scar in the white bark and trying to imagine that burning.

    Dirt stepped over and felt the spot with his hand, and found it hot to the touch, but not painfully so.

    ¡°Well, it was working a little. It¡¯s getting hot.¡±

    -It¡¯s hard just trying to make it on fire, instead of picking it up.-

    ¡°Maybe you just need to try even smaller. Make something this small,¡± thought Dirt. He imagined a little spark in the air, hovering over his palm, and sent the image to Socks. Just one tiny little spark, smaller than Dirt¡¯s little hand. A single point of light.

    ¡°Oh, and why not try putting the fire on something small first, too? Hold on, let me¡­¡±

    Dirt pulled up some stalks of yellow grass, expecting that the brittle, dry stuff would burn easier because it was the smallest, lightest material he knew of. He crumpled it up in a pile and set it a few paces in front of Socks¡¯ nose.

    -The others would think this was funny. That will be a very tiny fire.-

    ¡°Then let them try and make a bigger one. Besides, haven¡¯t little things served you well?¡± said Dirt. He patted the big pup on the nose.

    -Fine.- Socks huffed, blowing the little ball of dried grass a few feet away. The pup caught it with his mind before it hit the ground and held it there, and almost immediately after, it filled with smoke. Socks leapt to his feet, eyes focused perfectly on the little ball of grass. An instant later it erupted into bright flame, then flared so bright Dirt blinked and looked away, and that was it. The fire winked out and a curtain of ash drifted down through the air.

    Dirt cheered, shouting and raising his arms, but Socks said, -Quick, get me another one.-

    He scrambled to break off more dry grass and wad it up in his hands. He threw it in front of Socks¡¯ face. The pup caught it with his mind and soon it erupted in flames so bright that Dirt felt the heat from several paces away, despite the sunlight already warming his skin. It flared out even quicker than the first one and left nothing but drifting ash.

    He didn¡¯t need to be told again. Socks simply shot him an urgent look and Dirt gathered another clump and tossed it in the air, then started getting another one. And another, and another. Dirt quit even watching them burn, and instead tried to get as many into the air as he could.

    Another, and another, and another. Socks didn¡¯t send him any thoughts, or even think in words. He was too focused on making as many fires as he could while he got the hang of it. Dirt fed him more and more grass until he got his hands on a dry stick and tossed that.

    Socks burned that one so fast it exploded, creating a fireball as big around as Dirt¡¯s body from head to foot.

    -WATCH!- shouted Socks, forgetting to be quiet. The word left Dirt¡¯s head ringing and sore but he didn¡¯t complain. He followed Socks¡¯ gaze to the copse of trees.

    Not one but twenty tiny fires erupted all throughout it, then twenty more. The entire copse went up in flames, from front to back. The twisting vines and brush cracked and spat and vanished in bright flames of yellow and blue.

    Socks kept his eyes forward, focusing and forcing the flames higher and higher. It got so hot Dirt had to step back and hide behind the wolf, and even there he started sweating.

    The pup turned his gaze to one side and a curtain of sparks appeared over the grass, which quickly ignited. Then the other side.

    -I DID IT! Oh, sorry. I did it! Look, little Dirt. Look at all the fire around!-

    ¡°It¡¯s getting too hot for me. Can we go back a little?¡±

    Socks seemed to awaken from a daydream and realized just how much fire he¡¯d made. He picked up Dirt with his mind and they retreated to a nearby hilltop to watch it burn.

    The grass fires went out soon after, but the copse of trees burned for far, far longer. Long enough for Socks to get bored and leave. -Come, little Dirt. Let¡¯s go back to the den and show Mother that I can lift you up now, and burn things.-

    ¡°Just not at the same time.¡±

    Amused, Socks replied, -No, not at the same time.-

    ¡°Hasn¡¯t she already seen it? Isn¡¯t she always watching?¡±

    -Probably. And Father has seen it, too, from atop his mountain.-

    ¡°Father is on a mountain?¡±

    -A very tall one, because he likes the cold. He watches his territory from up there, if he is not hunting.-

    Dirt wondered about that for a moment. Were all the humans gone from here because Father didn¡¯t want them in his territory? Or had Father claimed it after they were gone?

    He had learned one thing, though. Thinking about the distant past too hard made him less happy, not more.

    ¡°Socks, let me just say one thing.¡±

    -What is that?-

    ¡°I want to sleep on the puppy pile tonight.¡±

 Ancient Things - Chapter 25

    YOU WILL NOT SLEEP HERE IN THIS DEN TONIGHT.

    Dirt tried not to show his regret about that, or even feel it strongly lest Mother think he was trying to manipulate her. He wouldn¡¯t dare, but it stung nonetheless.

    Socks was having a great time, oblivious. Everyone wanted him to lift them up with his mind or create sparks. Five or six were actively trying to mimic him and learn how he did it, to no visible effect; the rest were so excited they kept running up to play, pretend-biting at his mouth and just generally raising a ruckus. There was so much barking that Dirt debated plugging his ears.

    Dirt had wisely made his way to the edge of the den to sit down and relax, hoping to avoid getting stomped on or lit on fire, and he¡¯d been mostly left to himself. Aside from Socks running over to check on him every now and then, or a pup coming by to sniff him to see where he¡¯d been today, he just sat and watched, ignored. And that was fine. He still had plenty on his mind, and his brain was still tired and needed sleep. It was nice to watch Socks having fun with all the other pups, too. They could play with him in a way Dirt couldn¡¯t, since they were his same size.

    So where was Dirt going to sleep, if not here, he wondered? The sun had already set and it was starting to dim outside. Perhaps he would be wise to take the hint and leave now, while Socks was distracted.

    His hand crept to the knife hanging under his armpit. He¡¯d be fine alone if he and Socks had to spend a day or two apart. He could hide where big things couldn¡¯t get him, and cut up any little things that found him. He could be just as ferocious as Socks was when he felt like it. He might even be able to make it to the forest in a day or two, if he could find the way. He wasn¡¯t sure he could, but maybe he could get on top of something tall and see where it was.

    Dirt spared the briefest glance at the rear of the den where Mother lay, ever terrifyingly huge and predatory. Even nursing ten pups at once she looked ready to strike. She wasn¡¯t watching him, though. Her golden eyes darted from pup to pup, watching them all with a serious air about her. Or perhaps she just looked relaxed, but he couldn¡¯t separate his fear of her from how she appeared to him.

    She must have noticed Dirt being excited about the puppy pile and chosen to cure him of a false hope. She gave no clarification because she didn¡¯t care how he felt about it, only that he knew the truth. Which, now that he thought about it, she did often.

    Dirt stood, completely unsure how to proceed. Should he sneak out? Or should he say goodbye first and let Socks know why he was leaving? Because if Dirt made Socks mad at Mother, she might just prefer to eat Socks, smoosh Dirt like a bug, and be done with it. But he couldn¡¯t lie to Socks. He simply couldn¡¯t. It was unimaginable. He wasn¡¯t even sure it was possible after melding their minds so many times.

    Was she waiting to see who he¡¯d side with? With her, lying to keep Socks out of trouble, or with Socks himself by being honest?

    I AM NOT TESTING YOU. THERE IS NOTHING MORE ABOUT YOU I CARE TO LEARN. THE WAY IS NOW PREPARED. IF YOU WISH TO SAY GOODBYE, DO IT FROM YOUR DESTINATION.

    Along with the words, Mother sent Dirt a clear image of himself hurrying out of the den and touching a particular root poking up out of the ground, just a short distance from the entrance.

    It pained Dirt to leave like this, but disobeying Mother for even an instant would certainly pain him a lot more. He stood immediately and jogged out, just a bit faster than Mother¡¯s image had shown him going, even though his feet had never felt heavier. His mind instinctively shied away from any feelings of injustice or indignation, instead turning to how lucky he was that Mother let him associate with Socks at all.

    How must it look for her, he wondered, to have him in her den? Nothing else was allowed in. No birds, no critters big or small, not even bugs or plants. It was a place for wolves and wolves only. And he knew what he looked like through the wolves¡¯ eyes, even how he smelled. A fidgety little thing, fragile and mostly useless, but sometimes interesting. A squirmy bit of moving grime clinging to her son, which he refused to part with. At least Dirt was slowly proving beneficial, helping Socks to learn things the other pups hadn¡¯t figured out yet. Mother was probably annoyed, but she was being gracious for Socks¡¯ sake. She¡¯d even healed Dirt.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    And Dirt had almost resented her for kicking him out for a moment there. Almost, and the gods only knew what the result of that would be. He suspected she only needed the first excuse to be rid of him, and that¡¯d be that. This must be the hard part of being a child¡ªadult humans probably never had any difficulty mastering themselves. Dirt still needed practice.

    CLOSE YOUR EYES BEFORE YOU TOUCH IT.

    Dirt nodded, and shortly after, he found the little root Mother had shown him. It was a finger¡¯s width and no longer than his hand, still young and tender green, poking up into the air.

    He wasn¡¯t sure what to expect, or how long Mother wanted him to hold onto it. Was he supposed to pull it up, maybe?

    Dirt knelt and closed his eyes as instructed. He reached out and the instant his fingertip brushed against the root, a sudden full-body jolt yanked him hurtling forward with shocking speed, slamming him left and right as the path turned this way or that, all too fast for his mind to even process.

    By the time he could scream, he¡¯d already stopped moving. He was still kneeling, but he felt like his whole body had been filled with sand and water and shaken violently. Everything sloshed inside him, sharp pains everywhere.

    He yanked his hand away and opened his eyes and didn¡¯t find what he expected. It wasn¡¯t the open field of trampled dirt and grass surrounding the den. He was back in the forest, kneeling in the soft black dirt, hidden by the ferns.

    Astonishment kept him from breathing for a moment until he started gasping and coughing. He shot to his feet, then immediately fell over because he couldn¡¯t keep his balance.

    Dirt shook his head and got up more slowly. A hand gently gripped his arm, and he turned to see a beautiful girl his own age, all in green. Green hair, green eyes, skin the gray of bark, and little green leaves growing to cover her torso. Could it be¡ª

    ¡°Home?¡± he asked aloud.

    ¡°Yes. Welcome back, Dirt,¡± she said. Her voice was soft and light, and she gave him a big smile that only looked slightly practiced.

    ¡°Home!¡± he shouted, suddenly overjoyed. He looked at her hand, still holding his arm. ¡°Hey, you didn¡¯t break it this time. Good job!¡±

    ¡°The Mother of Wolves has been instructive.¡±

    ¡°Really? Huh. That¡¯s good. I¡¯m glad she was. Oh, wow, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m okay.¡± The world spun around him, even though he tried to stand still. His knees gave out and he fell, slipping from Home¡¯s grasp to collapse awkwardly in the black dirt. He almost tried getting back up but the world spun ever faster and he started getting nauseous.

    Dirt tried to grab hold of the ground to keep from spinning, but it didn¡¯t help because nothing was really moving. A moment later, he vomited, hard, tasting only acid and a bit of deer left in his mostly empty stomach.

    ¡°Sisters?¡± asked Home.

    Dirt heard footsteps swishing through the ferns. Several sets of hands rested lightly on different parts of his body, but he was sure if he opened his eyes to see them, he¡¯d vomit again.

    ¡°He looks unwell,¡± said a different tree-girl. Dryad. That was what Mother called them.

    ¡°The Mother of Wolves did not warn us about this,¡± said Home. ¡°Let us view him.¡±

    A rhythmic hum rose from the ground and filled him, reverberating deep within him, the old familiar pulse he knew from sleeping under the roots. His mana body reacted¡ªthat must be what it was¡ªas the trees guided something around inside him, probing him to find out what was going wrong. It felt like a gentle massage, but from the inside out.

    It was not long before the probing sensation faded, and shortly after that, the pulsing hum stopped.

    ¡°The Mother of Wolves says you will be fine in a moment. The fluids of your inner ear were unbalanced by root travel, but will naturally restabilize with time. She reminds us to be gentler with you,¡± said Home.

    Dirt smiled despite how awful he still felt, wondering if she¡¯d neglected to warn them on purpose. ¡°That sounds like her.¡±

    They kept their hands resting on him while he recovered, and from what he could tell, they held perfectly still, as unmoving as the trees they really were. He didn¡¯t vomit again, but he did come close a couple times. He managed to hold it down, since he didn¡¯t want to splash one of them.

    Slowly, slowly, the earth stopped heaving and trying to throw him off it.

    ¡°Dirt, do you feel better now?¡± asked Home.

    ¡°Yes, I¡­ Oh, wow. Gods in Glory, that was intense. But I feel a lot better now,¡± Dirt said. It felt strange to be using his voice so much, speaking aloud after so long.

    He rubbed his eyes a bit, then opened them to see several more dryads kneeling over him, each one different. One had shorter hair, another longer. The shapes of their faces was different. They didn¡¯t wear clothing, but neither were they naked. They were covered by little green leaves that grew almost like fur to hide their forms, some from the neck down, others from the chest down, and a few from the waist down.

    They all had exactly the same smile, though. He was sure they¡¯d practiced it.

    Dirt grinned at that. They were already charming, he decided. He pushed himself up to his feet, then wiped his mouth and cheek to get the vomit off and cleaned his hands in the soil.

    ¡°Are you well now, Dirt?¡± asked Home.

    ¡°I am. Thanks. How did I get here?¡± Dirt supposed that if he couldn¡¯t sleep on the puppy pile, this would be okay instead. He¡¯d miss Socks tonight, but they¡¯d be back together soon.

    ¡°We will discuss that and many other things. Come, let us walk together and see what I have to show you,¡± said Home, standing and holding out her hand for him to take. He did.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 26

    They were not far from Home¡¯s roots, which he recognized now that he got a chance to look around. Home¡¯s dryad held one of his hands and someone else held the other as they walked. Both dryads held their fingers perfectly steady in just the right shape, but unmoving in a way that felt unnatural. Dirt didn¡¯t say anything, though, because it was nice they were trying, and besides, the pale gray bark of their skin was convincingly supple.

    A whole crowd of dryads had gathered to see him, it seemed, and more were coming. They walked in through the ferns at the same steady, measured pace. There were already as many dryads as there were wolf pups in the den at night and Dirt was sure there¡¯d be ten times as many before long. All children his size, all girls. At least the ones he could tell, which was most of them. The tiny green leaves concealed too much of their bodies and hid the first place he¡¯d look to tell the difference.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting there to be so many of you, but I¡¯m not surprised. How did you all know to look different? Was that so I could tell you apart?¡±

    Home said, ¡°The Mother of Wolves showed us many humans. We are pleased with our imitations. Do you approve?¡±

    Dirt looked at Home, then several of the others. The faces really were quite good, and the variety he saw told him they understood what they were doing. Home¡¯s face was a little narrower, her jaw a bit more pointed, whereas the dryad holding his other hand had round, full cheeks and a flatter nose.

    ¡°You all look very human to me. I think if you told me you were human and I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d believe it. Except the gray skin, but maybe some humans are that color. I don¡¯t know. So I¡¯d probably believe it. Actually, do you mind if I ask you something? Are you supposed to be wearing clothes? Is that what this is?¡±

    ¡°Rather than imitating clothing, partial body coverings allow us a convenient excuse to reduce our expenditure of focus. This appearance requires less effort on our parts and we wish to reserve as much as possible for the purpose of learning. Would you prefer my form to be uninterrupted, as yours?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well, no, I don¡¯t really care. I was just wondering. I thought maybe if you all had clothes, I needed some too, but I don¡¯t know where I¡¯d get any.¡±

    ¡°I wish for you to do as you prefer to give us opportunity to learn your preferences. Do not concern yourself with ours. If they become important, we will speak them,¡± said Home, still smiling. Her voice rose and fell as she talked, in a way that was more repetitive than expressive.

    Everything they did was so close to human that the things they got wrong were strangely discomfiting and Dirt had to school himself to push down the growing unease. Facial expressions and body language that were close but not quite right. A hundred little things.

    Instead, he decided it was endearing how hard they were trying. The trees were bigger than he could measure and older than he could guess, but here they were seeing and living in the world as if for the first time. They were even younger than he was, in a way.

    ¡°Why did you choose to imitate humans instead of something else, like wolves?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It was your dreams that first made us aware of this way of perceiving, and it is you with whom we wish to interact,¡± said Home.

    ¡°Also, the Mother of Wolves would not send us one of her own to examine more closely because we are too dangerous. We understand your anatomy better,¡± added the other dryad.

    Dirt glanced at her, now nervous.

    That one said, ¡°I apologize. The Mother of Wolves said we should not all speak or it would disorient you. Have I disoriented you?¡±

    He swallowed and said, ¡°No, that¡¯s fine.¡±

    The forest was just as he remembered it, at least above. The trees were still impossibly tall and left no sky visible anywhere, covering it all with their canopy. The comforting ceiling of leaves still relaxed him. The open sky outside wasn¡¯t as intimidating as it used to be, but this was better. Quiet. Eternal. The sky changed so much day by day, even hour by hour, that it felt less reliable.

    It was also nice to feel the ferns brush against him as he walked, and his toes digging into the rich black soil. He was happy to be getting covered in the right color dirt again. The ground in the den was a paler brown, rougher and harder, and he didn¡¯t like it as much.

    ¡°Are you hungry?¡± asked Home, with a pleasant smile. Which every other dryad mirrored, exactly the same. Every single face.

    Dirt laughed before he could start getting scared. It really was funny. They were trying so hard! ¡°Oh, I¡¯m only a little hungry. I ate a lot of deer earlier with Socks. Mostly I¡¯m just tired. I¡¯ve had a really long day.¡±

    ¡°We will more deeply analyze your composition and prepare a sap that contains the appropriate nutrients,¡± said Home, her pleasant smile never breaking.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    He wasn¡¯t sure what she meant and he¡¯d rather not find out as the last thing he did today, so he said, ¡°Thanks, but tomorrow is fine.¡±

    Dirt spared a glance at her mind, which felt a bit intrusive now that the tree could talk. The majority of her thoughts were as inscrutable as ever, except the portion that was processing speech and orienting in the physical world. From the sheer excitement he saw there, she was beyond eager to try and make that sap, whatever that was. Home was as happy as he¡¯d ever seen anyone being. That smile wasn¡¯t an affectation after all.

    ¡°We eat always, but you eat only sometimes, in larger amounts. Is that correct?¡± asked a dryad walking just in front of them. This one¡¯s green hair reached almost to her waist.

    ¡°Yep, every single day. And drink water, too. Wait, wow, what is that?!¡± he exclaimed, spotting a little house of gray and green built against Home¡¯s roots, right above where his nest was. With night so close, he hadn¡¯t noticed it tucked there in the shadows.

    In his excitement, he let go of the dryads¡¯ hands and ran forward to get a better look. The house was just his size¡ªfive or six paces wide, made of sturdy branches and twisting vines instead of stone.

    With no cut edges, Dirt decided Home must have grown it in place. He rested his hand against the empty door frame, wondering if it was all part of her.

    The doorway was just a bit higher than he was tall, not towering overhead like the ruined city. The windows on either side of the door were a bit lower, too, so he could see out better. The back wall was the root, and the roof was slanted instead of pitched. Inside, it was as dark as it could get.

    He was sure wandering into a lot of dark places today, he thought with a forced grin. Before stepping over the threshold, however, he turned back to see the crowd of dryads walking calmly in his direction.

    They probably didn¡¯t know how to run. Well, that was fine, because he could teach them, and then they could play all sorts of games. He¡¯d have to make them up, but preferably ones that didn¡¯t result in his bones being shattered again. Maybe Socks would have some ideas next time he saw him.

    The first dryad to reach him looked like it might be a male, since his frame looked a little more solid and masculine than the others. His scruffy green hair was much shorter and he grew leaves around his waist only, leaving his torso bare. He said nothing, stopping dead in his tracks a couple paces away.

    Dirt wondered which tree he was, since only a handful of them were close enough for him to see their minds. He admitted it was a bit creepy how the dryads had no minds right there in them, since that made them feel like they might be corpses. But he¡¯d get used to it. He still loved them, especially Home.

    And soon enough she arrived. Home stepped to the front of the crowd and said, ¡°Do you like it?¡±

    ¡°I do! I love it. How did you know? Not even I remembered what a house was until earlier today,¡± he said.

    ¡°The Mother of Wolves showed us many things that are to your benefit, at our request. Her guidance is that none enter without your permission, and none shall. Walk inside and speak the word ¡®shut.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Wait, Mother told you things to benefit me? Why?¡±

    Still smiling, Home said, ¡°We are too powerful to be denied carelessly. I will explain another time. Please, walk inside and speak the word ¡®shut.¡¯¡±

    Dirt nodded slowly, trying not to look unsettled. The last thing he wanted was to get caught in the middle of an argument between Mother and the forest.

    He turned and stepped through the doorway, holding his hand forward to keep from bumping into anything. Home wouldn¡¯t put anything weird in here, would she? He¡¯d never know, since it was too dark to see inside it right now.

    Nothing reached out and grabbed him, at least. Just empty air so far. The floor of the house wasn¡¯t earth¡ªit was solid with a soft layer over it that he couldn¡¯t immediately identify. The air inside was even heavier and quieter than the rest of the forest, which made it doubly different from the den where he¡¯d been only moments before.

    ¡°Shut,¡± he said. Then he jumped as the entire house shuddered and groaned around him, creaking and popping. He felt the floor moving beneath him and just about ran outside before he noticed that the doorway was growing in, solid branches forming a hatch pattern with spaces just big enough to fit his hand through. The windows did the same, and all he could see anymore were little diamond shapes where the last remaining light got in.

    ¡°Open?¡± The house creaked and shook just as before, and this time the door and windows opened back up. The process wasn¡¯t fast, but it was fast enough.

    Home said, ¡°Good night, Dirt.¡±

    ¡°Good night. Are you going to sleep with me, too? I don¡¯t think all of you will fit in here, but Home made her dryad in my nest that first time, so is she coming in? Are you?¡±

    There was no reply. No one so much as twitched.

    ¡°Home? Anyone?¡± he asked the silence. ¡°Hello?¡±

    Looking back to Home¡¯s mind, he found her already mostly shut down, asleep.

    The trees had fallen asleep just like that and they were all going to leave their dryads out there, standing there right outside this house, looking in. All night.

    ¡°Close,¡± he told the door, his voice wavering. It obeyed, but even with the door and windows latticed in, he still knew the dryads were there.

    The idea of being watched like that, their faces unmoving in the perfect darkness, deeply unnerved him. The dread that had been building this whole time finally bubbled over and stole his breath. He could see their fading outlines, silent and empty. As soon as he turned his back, they¡¯d start moving again and come grab him in the night, or scare him with sudden sounds, or something like that. They wouldn¡¯t, but he couldn¡¯t shake the dread despite knowing better.

    But nothing inside moved or spoke. All was calm, the house empty except a shallow basin that grew right out of the root. Inside it his fingertips met liquid, which his nose told him was water. He had a sip and it tasted fine, but he didn¡¯t dare drink more until he could see what it looked like.

    At the back end of the house he found a narrow stairway and carefully made his way down. It was only four stairs, and at the bottom, a short tunnel led to a small room that he guessed used to be his nest.

    He stubbed his toe on a wooden edge, then tripped and banged his shins against a short wooden platform, only knee height. He fell forward onto what he quickly realized was a bed, soft as a puppy and just as fuzzy, with some kind of thin fibrous material bunched up into clumps that molded to his form when he lay down.

    Dirt settled in, trying not to cry from the sharp pain in his toe and shins, and from weariness, and from dread. He almost didn¡¯t want to sleep, knowing it¡¯d be Home waiting for him in the dream with all her unknowable thoughts and alien sensations, and not Socks.

    He just hoped the dryads didn¡¯t want to pull him apart to see what he was made of.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 27

    Dirt woke slowly, fading in and out of lingering dreams several times before he came to full consciousness. He¡¯d had a nightmare about Socks but couldn¡¯t remember it. That had dissolved into a restless dream in which he wandered through starlit ruins, hiding from some unseen thing slowly chasing him.

    Halfway through the night, his dagger dug into his ribs and woke him up, so he¡¯d taken it off and set it beside the bed and fallen back asleep quickly. No tree-dreams, although the familiar pulsing hum rising from the earth had been just as he remembered it.

    He stretched his arms and legs and groaned contentedly. The dryads would be up there waiting for him, he knew. Dirt looked at Home¡¯s mind, once again awed at how huge it was, how complex and inscrutable. Part of her was controlling her dryad, waiting patiently for him to come up. She just kept thinking how happy she¡¯d be to see him, in a way that made him wonder if she knew he could only comprehend that part of her thoughts. In fact, she probably did know that, or had guessed it.

    The rest of her mind still had emotion in it, and that was something he could understand. Her excitement ran through all parts of her immense mind, but along with it, if he looked very carefully and examined it through the lens of his own heart, was an undercurrent of fear, of hesitation. She was nervous and wanted to give the right impression. That helped put him at ease, since it wasn¡¯t just him.

    It occurred to him that Socks was always just himself, always perfectly honest, feeling and doing and thinking whatever he wanted. All the pups were like that, and maybe Mother and Father too, even though he didn¡¯t dare look at their minds. Dirt didn¡¯t have that luxury. He was whatever he needed to be to survive. Around Mother, that meant as humble as possible. And maybe he did that a little with Socks, making himself happy instead of scared sometimes. It was always sincere¡ªhis humility was genuine, and so was his love for Socks. It had to be. He could think a lie, or say one, but he couldn¡¯t be a lie. Mother and Socks could read his mind.

    So what did he need to be to survive today? He loved the trees but he didn¡¯t really know them. As always, he¡¯d have to figure it out as he went. Maybe he should just be himself. Maybe he was always just himself. Maybe that was his type of strength¡ªdiscipline and sincerity.

    Well, no use waiting around. Dirt crawled off the bed, slightly disappointed to be leaving it behind. It really had been comfortable, and he already wanted to take a nap. Slinging the leather sheath back over his shoulder, he ascended the stairs.

    The inside of his house was as foggy as the outside, making it impossible to see the dryads only a few paces past his door. That was good. That meant it was still early morning and there¡¯d be plenty of dew for him.

    Oh. Right. There was water right over there. Dirt stepped over to the basin, which it was light enough to see. All made of bare wood, not bark, it came right out of the root, wider than his shoulders and only deep as a finger in the middle. Perfectly still, clear water filled it to the brim, so calm that he could see his reflection if he moved to exactly the right angle. It was too dim for a good look, but he could see it.

    He dipped his face in and drank his fill, relishing it. It tasted like the water in the huge basin with the tentacle monster, not the dew from the ferns. No plant flavor at all. Nothing but clean water.

    In just a few seconds, he drank more than he would have gotten all morning if he¡¯d had to chase the dew. No waiting for Mother to give him water, or wondering when Socks would get thirsty and find some, or having to wait for the next morning. This was a true luxury.

    Then there was nothing left to do but go outside and greet the dryads. They would want every moment of his time, he was sure. They would probably do magic on him, like when Home broke his arms and they tried to heal it. They¡¯d fixed his mana body then, not his physical one, and expected him to fix the rest himself. So what else might they have in mind?

    Something about sap. Home mentioned making sap for him to eat, and it sounded like he would be involved somehow. That would be his first thing to survive today.

    No, he was being silly. They didn¡¯t want to hurt him. The opposite, if the house he was standing in proved anything. He stepped to the doorway, took a deep breath of resolve, and said, ¡°Open.¡± The latticework of vines withdrew from the doorway and he stepped out into the fog.

    ¡°Hello, Home! Hello, everyone. Thanks for the house. I love it. And the bed was wonderful. And the water,¡± he said to Home and the outlines in the fog behind her.

    They came at the same easy pace as before, green-and-gray children in endless variety. Despite the fog hiding most of their number, he was sure there were more this time and he could spot a handful that he thought might be male.

    It occurred to him that with wolves, you couldn¡¯t tell male or female unless you could see their minds or between their hind legs. And wolves could smell the difference, but he couldn¡¯t. But with humans, you could tell just from the face or subtle things about the shape of the body, and the trees had captured that when making their dryads.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Hello, Dirt,¡± said Home. Her voice was bright, almost like laughter, and her long, green hair shimmered slightly in the pale fog.

    ¡°Hello, Dirt,¡± said dozens of others in near-unison.

    He was happy to see them, he realized, which was a relief. But he wasn¡¯t ready to give control of the day to them just yet. He was still too nervous. ¡°I think the very first thing I want to do this morning, is give everyone a hug. But I don¡¯t want you to break my arms again, so here¡¯s how I want to try. Here, Home, can you push my hand down, gently?¡±

    Dirt held his hand out. Home considered that for a moment, then stepped forward and placed her hand over his and gently pressed downward. No, not gently: slowly. Far too strongly for him to resist. She would¡¯ve broken his arms if it¡¯d been a hug.

    He smiled and said, ¡°Good. This is why I wanted to practice first. You¡¯re pushing slow, not gentle. Gentle means that you only use so much force, and then not any more. See, look, if I push on this fern gently, then I feel it pushing back and I know not to push it so hard it breaks. I could push slow and drive it right into the ground and break it, see? But I don¡¯t want to break it, so if I feel too much force pushing back on me, then I stop. That¡¯s gentle. Does that make sense?¡±

    Thank Grace that Dirt was quick enough on his feet to think of how to explain something so intuitive. He grinned, just a little, as he started to realize just what he was in for.

    ¡°I will push gently,¡± said Home. She tried again, and this time her touch was light as a feather and only slowly increased, just enough to move his hand a finger¡¯s width before she stopped. ¡°Is that gentle?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s gentle. I don¡¯t know how hard it is for you to control your dryad, but you did a good job. Push just a little harder. Okay, now a little harder. See, now I¡¯m pushing back, and you can tell, right?¡±

    ¡°I will not squeeze hard. Do humans often give hugs?¡± asked Home. Her smile looked like it was getting more real, like she was smiling with her eyes now, too. He noticed they were dry, not moist. Hard and smooth.

    ¡°Do we often give hugs?¡± He stopped to think about that. She was watching him far more carefully than he realized, already learning minute details of body language. Nearby, some of the others were slightly moving or shifting their weight instead of remaining perfectly still. Already, they felt more human to be around than they had last night.

    Dirt said, ¡°I don¡¯t know, honestly, because I don¡¯t know any other humans. But I do know that whenever I see Socks, I want to hug him and scratch his ears and pet his fur. But I don¡¯t want to hug Mother when I see her, so I suppose humans only like to hug their friends. And Socks always likes to lick me, and let me sleep in his fur, and stuff like that. I think¡­¡±

    He paused, turning his mind inward to try and understand himself. He hadn¡¯t been alive very long, but he¡¯d had enough good and bad to know a few things. ¡°You trees are always connected, always touching your roots, always together. But we humans aren¡¯t connected like that. We have to touch on purpose to be connected. And if I never had anyone for that, I think I would just drift away and disappear.¡±

    Dirt squeezed Home¡¯s hand between both of his. Her face was calm and happy, but he could see her mind racing to process what he was saying.

    She withdrew her hand and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his ribs. She squeezed only gently and rested her head beside his. Her green hair smelled like leaves. ¡°Then for a moment, we are connected.¡±

    It was different hugging a human than a wolf. Their bodies fit together better. Somehow, he¡¯d missed this, even though he¡¯d never done it before.

    She didn¡¯t know when to stop, so he had to let go first and pull away. Home¡¯s face was calm and content, but her mind was sending complicated bundles of information to everyone else. He could guess what they contained. ¡°Are you telling everyone else how hard to hug?¡±

    Home said, ¡°Yes, and more.¡±

    ¡°Okay, good. Who¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°Do you wish to be connected to all of us?¡± asked a nearby dryad, one he wasn¡¯t sure he recognized.

    ¡°Sure,¡± Dirt said. ¡°If you want.¡±

    From there, every single dryad wanted a hug. They waited with their arms out as he went from person to person. A whole crowd of them, arms pointed toward him. He was glad he knew what was going on, because if he didn¡¯t it might have been terrifying. But he hugged them all, for a few breaths each. The dryads got better at it as he went, too, adjusting the force and position as they gained more experience.

    He started counting after five dryads and lost count around thirty; there were three or four times that many. All in all, it took longer than he expected, long enough he wanted to take a break. He kept going, though, until he got them all. Every last one, including those who arrived after he¡¯d already gotten started.

    Home followed him the whole time, always a few steps behind him. He figured she was observing, or perhaps making sure no one squeezed him too hard. But no sooner had he stepped back from the last dryad, giving her a tired smile that he hoped was still friendly, than Home grabbed his wrist, tightly enough he couldn¡¯t pull away. It felt like a ring of iron, just loose enough to keep from bruising, but which he couldn¡¯t get his hand through.

    Another dryad grabbed his other wrist before he could react.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked. He swallowed the knot of fear before it formed. He would be fine.

    Instead of answering, two more grabbed his shoulders, then his feet and hips, and together they pressed him to the ground, slowly but firmly.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he asked, trying not to sound as panicked as he was becoming.

    Home said, ¡°The Mother of Wolves warned us this might distress you, but it is important. We hoped to comfort you first, to relax you. Please do not be distressed.¡± She gazed down at him with a beatific smile that was in no way predatory. Somehow that made it scarier.

    ¡°What are you doing? Why didn¡¯t you just ask me? Home¡ª!¡±

    ¡°Please do not be distressed, Dirt. Are we not now friends?¡± She held her hand over his stomach. Tiny strands, so thin and white he could barely see them, grew from her palm and fingertips, hanging lightly on the still and humid air.

    ¡°We are but this is scaring me because I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on,¡± he said in a rush. He hastily glanced at her mind, trying to understand, and found only that she was sincere. There was no malice in her. It didn¡¯t help.

    She said, ¡°I see that you are distressed. I apologize, but if we let you move, you might break them off. Leaving them inside you would be worse.¡±

    ¡°What? Break what off?!¡±

    All at once, the tiny white strands on her hand stiffened. They needled into his skin.

    Dirt screamed.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 28

    He shrieked more from horror than pain as dozens of tiny threads wormed all throughout his body, deep inside, from guts to muscles and even bones. They caused tiny sharp pains everywhere they went, which disappeared almost instantly only to happen again in the next spot over. There was no tugging, but in some places he could feel them restricting the natural movement, like in his lungs. He made himself quit screaming, worried his air was going to run out.

    For a moment he felt a dull squeezing in his chest that made him tired and nauseous, but slight fear entered Home¡¯s mind and the squeezing vanished. He didn¡¯t know why, though. She had no room set aside for words, or anything at all beyond the minimum needed to control her dryad. All the rest of her, all the immense bright glow of her mind, was focused on processing what she was doing.

    He watched her mind, hoping to understand what was going on. He could not. Her thoughts, now that she was fully engaged, carried far, far more at once than he could comprehend. They pulsed at the same rhythm as the nightly hum beneath her roots, slow and deliberate, but each pulse was so complicated he couldn¡¯t even tell if it was sensory information.

    One thing he understood, however, was that she was dividing information up to send to the others. In part, she was directing all their efforts, acting as a sort of central organizer. The actual trees were too far away for him to see all their minds, but the handful he could see were engaged in the same task.

    The sharp little pokes made their way up through his neck and into his face, and when thin, blurry bars started crossing his vision, he knew why. His eyes twitched involuntarily, as if wanting to move to look at something else, and he could feel the tugging that held them in place. That got a whimper out of him. He started panting, feeling like he had to flee.

    But he couldn¡¯t, so he closed his eyes and tried not to panic any more than he already had. It wouldn¡¯t do him any good¡ªthey were holding him firmly on any joint he might have tried to bend to get away. He wasn¡¯t going anywhere, but he might be able to squirm enough to break one of those tiny threads off, leaving it woven all throughout his innards. That would be worse.

    A thread hit something in his thigh that made him twinge, and right after that, several more in other places. Whatever they hit stung a lot more than the rest and made his arm shake, or his finger curl, or his leg try and bend. All different muscles flexed by themselves, one here, one there. The sharp pains were bad enough, their fiery stings burning far longer than the earlier ones, but some of his muscles jumped so much the dryads bruised his skin holding him down. He felt like he was losing control of himself. Were they taking him over? Were they going to invade and make him a dryad? If so, there was nothing he could do, except groan and hiss in discomfort.

    He wished Socks were here. Even just to sit nearby, nose to the ground, whimpering in sympathy. And when it was over, lift him out of their reach, lick him, and set him on his back. Then flee.

    The process dragged on and on, long enough for him to start losing his terror and revulsion and start thinking about getting hungry instead. The dryads were holding him so firmly the sore spots from that were more painful than anything going on inside him. He¡¯d have bruises from head to foot.

    It finished without any sort of announcement. The threads simply withdrew, much more quickly than they went in. They unwound fast enough to fill him with little tugs, which felt disgusting in a way he couldn¡¯t describe. When the dryads¡¯ grip on him loosened, he fought the urge to twist away and run. Anywhere. To the house and shut them out and hide, until he felt better. Or just try and escape the forest altogether and hope Socks found him before too long.

    But what good would any of that do? They could probably bring him back any time they wanted just by touching him with a root. And hide in the house? While they all stared at the door, waiting with the patience of eons for him to come out? He¡¯d have to eventually, and that would be awkward.

    As Home¡¯s focus relented and more of her attention returned to her dryad, Dirt rose hastily to his feet and pulled himself away from any lingering hands. He pushed past the nearest dryads to a spot a few paces away where he could get some space. He needed room to breathe, to gather himself.

    His spirit was shaken, leaving him feeling unwell and unbalanced. His body felt completely fine, though, which surprised him. He almost wished it still hurt, to match how he felt about what just happened. But no, just a few tiny spots of blood on his stomach where the threads had entered, and that was all. His vision was fine. He could breathe. Nothing hurt, except some bruising from their fingers.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°We were successful,¡± said Home, stepping toward him. ¡°It will take additional time to completely process, but we have learned what we wished to learn.¡±

    She held her arms forward as if expecting another hug, but Dirt grit his teeth, not ready to have dryad hands on him again just yet. They had a reason, he was sure. But right now, all he knew was how much he¡¯d hated it.

    He finally asked, ¡°What did you do?¡±

    ¡°We analyzed your composition, as I said.¡±

    ¡°When did you say that?¡±

    ¡°Last evening, before you slept, I said we would analyze your composition and prepare a sap that contains the appropriate nutrients,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you explain what you meant first? Because I had no idea what you meant by that,¡± he said, trying to keep petulance out of his voice and not quite succeeding.

    Home¡¯s eyebrows furrowed in a perfect facsimile of concern. ¡°The Mother of Wolves warned us you would be distressed and might resist, and in resisting, cause injury to yourself. But it was necessary. Remember that we are friends. I do not wish any improper distress upon you.¡±

    All his leftover unease turned immediately to anger. It came so sudden that it was all he could do to keep from shouting. He said, ¡°Improper distress? So there¡¯s proper distress that it¡¯s okay to cause me? Do you even know what friends are, Home?¡±

    Dirt took a deep breath, embarrassed that after all this time keeping control of himself, he¡¯d had an outburst like that.

    ¡°Wait!¡± he said, holding his hand up when she opened her mouth to talk. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t get mad like this. But what you did, I really, really hated it. It hurt me. I¡¯m scared of you, Home. I¡¯m trying not to be, because I know you mean well, but I am.¡±

    ¡°The Mother of Wolves warned us of this as well. We accomplish all we purpose, in all worlds of perception. We know nothing of pain and very little of fear. In our ignorance, will you forgive us, that we may continue to be friends?¡±

    ¡°Did Mother tell you to say that?¡±

    ¡°Only that she expected you to hasten to reconcile afterward, to preserve yourself.¡±

    Dirt scowled, then softened his brows once he realized what he was doing. ¡°What else did she say?¡±

    Home¡¯s look of concern appeared genuine, everything from the set of her chin to the little wrinkles between her eyebrows. Dirt glanced at her mind and found her body language to be deliberate but sincere. ¡°She said that you are in the early stages of malnourishment because you cannot eat a wolf¡¯s diet and thrive. She said your growth will be stunted, you risk deformity and disease, and are likely to die young as a result.¡±

    Dirt felt himself go pale. He looked down at his body, which was thin but still fine. Wasn¡¯t it? Suddenly, he wasn¡¯t sure. He had no other children to compare with. Except the dryads, and he wasn¡¯t sure how accurate their bodies were. None of them seemed to have stomachs that sank in quite as far as his, though, now that he took a closer look. Especially at the male one, who had no shirt of green fuzz covering his pale gray torso.

    ¡°Did Mother say to feed me, then?¡±

    ¡°She only said what would happen to you,¡± said the male. ¡°We had to know what you are made of to understand what you should eat, of course. Friend Dirt, I would gladly share my meals with you if I could, but we eat air.¡± He stood a little easier than Home, head back, hint of a friendly grin on his face. He had the look of a boy eager to play, which Dirt found surprisingly effective at putting him at ease. The boy¡¯s tree was nowhere nearby, so Dirt couldn¡¯t tell from his thoughts if it was intentional.

    ¡°What else did she say?¡±

    Home looked regretfully at the ground, then shyly lifted her eyes back up to meet his. ¡°To answer would be to distress you further. First I would have your assurance that we are reconciled, lest we become alienated.¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°Well, in that case, I forgive you. I guess you thought if I refused to let you do that, I might die, right?¡±

    ¡°That was our calculation,¡± said Home.

    ¡°Well, you might have been right, but if you had told me first it would have been easier on me. You could have just held me down and done it regardless, right? At least then I would have understood. But it¡¯s okay now. I won¡¯t hold it against you. So what else did she say?¡±

    ¡°She said a threat has come among them and that if you want to see Socks again, you must be strong enough to hold your own. She does not think it likely,¡± said Home, gazing regretfully at the ground. ¡°She said it is more likely you will never see him again.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, his heart sinking. A sense of finality settled on him, which soon turned to grief. It had always been too good to be true, their friendship. He felt like he¡¯d seen this coming, even though he hadn¡¯t. He¡¯d believed it would be years from now, but the truth was that he was just a little tiny human.

    He couldn¡¯t gather mana on his own. He couldn¡¯t even run fast by himself. How was he ever going to keep up? Socks would feel just as bad as he did, which made it even worse. Dirt wasn¡¯t just failing without knowing what he could have done differently; in doing so, he was breaking Socks¡¯ heart too.

    For a moment he just stared at the ground as it grew inside him. No more Socks. The big happy pup had been with him, protecting and comforting him his whole life, almost. It might not have been a long life yet, but it was a sincere one. Dirt would rather lose an arm. He¡¯d thought the threads hurt, but that wasn¡¯t real pain. Grief was real pain, enough to spill his guts out all over the ground and kill him, all by itself.

    ¡°Can you help me?¡± he asked, his chest too full of pain to keep his voice steady.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Home.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said the male. Then others, dozens and hundreds, ¡°Yes!¡±

    He took Home¡¯s hand, and the male¡¯s, and squeezed them. He bowed his head and a tear dripped off his nose. ¡°Then please help me! I can¡¯t lose him. I just can¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°Dear little Dirt, what do you think we have been doing?¡± said Home.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 29

    The dryads gave him a moment to gather himself and calm down, which he did, slowly. The pain in his chest took a long time to fade, because each time he thought he was regaining control, he imagined the smell of the pup¡¯s fur or some such thing and it came back.

    It wasn¡¯t goodbye. Not yet.. If Mother wanted to be rid of him, she wouldn¡¯t have given him a way back. He just had to be worthy to run with wolves. And either he or Socks would learn how to speak with their minds from a long way away, and then they could be together again, at least partially.

    Mother had said once that the strongest human who ever lived was just a little more powerful than Socks was. Well, that was several days ago, before he learned to make fire or lift things with his mind. But even so, all Dirt had to do was become the strongest person who ever lived. He gripped his knife, hanging against his ribs. He could do it.

    ¡°What are you thinking about, friend?¡± asked the male. ¡°We judge from your face that you are deep in thought.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just thinking about needing to be stronger. I think I can do it. I bet I can. Once I know where to start.¡±

    ¡°What is that object you are holding?¡±

    Dirt looked at the sheath. ¡°Oh, this? Here, it¡¯s¡­¡± He drew the blade and held it forward for them to look at, laying across his palms. ¡°It¡¯s a knife. I found it on a dead human a long way from here. Humans made this. It¡¯s for cutting. Watch.¡±

    He swung at the nearest fern and sliced a frond stem, easy as air. The dryads all winced and leaned back. ¡°Oh, sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to scare you.¡±

    ¡°We are surprised at how easily it severed,¡± said the female with short hair, who kept close by. Most dryads weren¡¯t talking, but she was. She looked up at the Home¡¯s branches, impossibly high overhead.

    Dirt looked up, wondering if she spotted something. Then he realized what she was thinking and said, ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. Even if I could reach that high, I could never cut one of your branches. Or a root. You¡¯re all way too thick and solid.¡±

    They all went still, which told him they were thinking that over without even having to look at their minds. Their thoughts were occupied with things other than making their dryads blink, which got a little grin out of him. To think they had body language that wasn¡¯t from copying him!

    Home snapped out of it first, blinking and subtly shifting her weight to look more alive. She said, ¡°Will you walk with me?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± he said. He put his knife away and took her offered hand. Did she think humans held hands any time they walked anywhere? And for that matter, did they?

    She led him back toward the house, and the others followed. Once there, she let go of his hand and traced her fingers on the outside corner, a straight log that looked like it was helping hold the roof up, but probably wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°Please strike this with your knife.¡±

    Ah. Well, he could do that. He stepped up to it, drew the knife, and took a swing. It smacked the log with a softer clunk than he wanted and twisted awkwardly, flipping itself out of his hand. There was a brief moment of panic where he realized it was spinning toward him in the air, but his reflexes got him out of the way and it fell silently into the black soil.

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m not very good at that yet,¡± he said with heart pounding and a flush of embarrassment heating his cheeks.

    Home didn¡¯t reply to that. She leaned in to examine the little mark he¡¯d made in the gray bark. The dryads froze again, but only Home and a few others at first. From there Dirt watched it ripple outward, only a few seconds at a time for each dryad as they passed it along.

    Dirt picked up his knife and held it more tightly. If he was honest with himself, he had no idea how to fight with it. Absolutely none. He¡¯d imagined himself just swinging and slicing through things as necessary, but it turned out it wasn¡¯t that easy. He glanced side-eyed at Home, wondering if he could ask her to let him practice and hack up the log.

    ¡°Why do you need to cut?¡± asked the male.

    ¡°Because of goblins and gryphons and things like that. Everything is trying to kill me. And, well, actually, are you going to be with me a lot? Talking? I noticed that it¡¯s mostly Home, and you, and her,¡± said Dirt, pointing at the short-haired female.

    ¡°Yes, if that pleases you. The Mother of Wolves said that humans associate more frequently with those of the same sex. Most of us are female, although the difference is much less meaningful for us than for you, so I will remain nearby to put you at ease,¡± said the male.

    Looking past him at the others, Dirt could only spot one or two more that he thought might be male too, out of the hundred or so watching him. But they weren¡¯t crowding in as close and half of their shape was hidden by the ferns, so he couldn¡¯t really be sure.

    ¡°Then can you translate your name into words? And where are you, by the way? Where¡¯s your tree?¡± asked Dirt.

    The boy turned in a circle, then faced Dirt again. ¡°I am at a distance of twenty-eight connections, but I do not know where. My name is the cycling of substances in the air for which there are no words, as reflected in the workings of dream and spirit upon the mana world and returning to the physical in accordance with specific geometric regularities.¡±

    Dirt¡¯s mind went blank. He thought maybe he could translate it, but there was no chance. He had no idea what any of that meant. ¡°How about if I call you Callius? It¡¯s the only human name I know, and it¡¯s for a male.¡±

    ¡°What does it mean?¡± asked the boy.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but it was the name of the dead human who used to have this knife. Me and Socks found his body yesterday,¡± said Dirt. Gods in Glory, only yesterday? It felt like ages ago already. Another pang of heartache hit him, but he quickly pushed it away before it got worse.

    ¡°Then to you, I shall be Callius,¡± said Callius. He grinned rather than smiled, with a hint of mischief that Dirt couldn¡¯t quite nail down but which he found himself mirroring, as if they two now shared some amusing secret.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°My name will be easier,¡± said the other female. ¡°It means Dawn.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Dawn. You have short hair, so you¡¯d get more sunlight on your face in the morning, and that¡¯s how I¡¯ll remember. How about you, Home? What does your name mean? Your real one?¡±

    Home seemed like she¡¯d had time to prepare her answer, because there was hardly a moment of consideration before she said, ¡°No part of my name can be communicated in words without changing its meaning to the point of dishonesty.¡±

    Dirt paused. ¡°Your name is more complicated than Callius¡¯s?¡±

    ¡°No, not more complicated, but more removed from physical perception. I like the name Home, however, since it describes what I am. A home for the things above and one tiny creature beneath,¡± she said.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ Wait, what are the things above?¡± Dirt asked, looking up. He saw nothing but the branches and canopy, unreachably high, calm and bright with the sun behind them.

    Home smiled. The edges of her mouth twisted into an expression of amusement, the first he¡¯d seen from her. ¡°You will learn when you can climb me and see for yourself.¡±

    ¡°Climb you? I don¡¯t think I could ever do that. There¡¯s no way.¡±

    Callius said, ¡°If you want, we can throw you. You¡¯ll have to find your own way back down.¡±

    Dirt chuckled, mostly from amazement at how quickly they were learning to act human. ¡°Okay, I have to ask. Did you have jokes and humor before, or did you learn that to talk with me?¡±

    Dawn said, ¡°We had humor before. Everything with a mind has humor.¡±

    ¡°Really? What are some tree jokes?¡±

    Home said, ¡°I fear they would be above you now, but perhaps some other day.¡±

    Dirt looked up at the canopy again. Was that a joke? There was no way. The subtlety of language required for that was impossible. Wasn¡¯t it? He looked around at all the dryads, trying to gauge from their expressions whether they knew. He couldn¡¯t tell.

    A hoarse scream from the back of the crowd of dryads split the air and Dirt turned toward the source, insides turning to ice. It was followed by another, then another, snarling howls, rough and bestial. He knew the sound, although it was so unexpected it took him a minute to realize. Goblins, attacking.

    He couldn¡¯t see what was happening, and reflexively stepped backward. Remembering to look with his mind, he found six of them, their thoughts ferocious and wild, driven by hunger and instinct more than reason.

    A green goblin head shot ten paces into the air, spraying drops of red blood as it spun.

    ¡°Dirt, come, see. Your food is ready,¡± said Home, placid as ever. None of the dryads seemed concerned in the slightest.

    He swallowed, knees watery, and turned away from the screaming. He gripped his knife, ears and mind alert in case one got close.

    Home led him to the door of his house and asked, ¡°May I come inside with you?¡±

    A ripping sound, punctuated with countless cracking bones, pushed him through the doorway. ¡°Yes, please come in, and anyone else who wants to,¡± he said. Dirt watched goblin minds vanish one by one as they screamed in hatred at the dryads calmly killing them. Effortlessly.

    Only Home, Callius, and Dawn came in, their steps easy and graceful. The trees had absolutely no regard for goblins at all. None. They weren¡¯t even an annoyance. That made him feel both more and less safe at the same time, somehow.

    Home directed him toward the water basin. On the wall above it, he found a lump of viscous yellow liquid as big as both his fists held together, slowly oozing from a small hole.

    Home gestured and said, ¡°Please, eat it. It should be close to complete nutrition for you. We are still processing what we have learned, but this is adequate for now.¡±

    The screaming outside reduced to a single voice, which cut off as it was muffled. Judging from its mind, it was being held down and in pain. Dirt looked away, wondering if they were going to explore its insides like they did with him.

    After what had just happened, he didn¡¯t have much appetite, but he wasn¡¯t about to annoy the trees now. He reached for the ball of sap and found it hard and sticky. The whole thing peeled away in one big lump.

    The three dryads watched him intently, eager to see his reaction. As were any of the dryads with an angle to look in through the windows or door.

    He licked it and was pleased to find that it didn¡¯t taste like leaves. He smiled to let them know, then sank his teeth in. They stuck, but he was able to pull a bite away that quickly dissolved when he chewed it. It tasted mild, slightly sweet like the grubs. It had a bit of the smoothness of raw meat, but none of the boldness of blood. It was probably not made out of goblin. Wrong color, wrong taste.

    ¡°This is better than I expected!¡± he said, taking another bite.

    ¡°We are pleased,¡± said Home. ¡°You must eat it all. There will be more later, and you must eat that as well.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, but I¡¯m not that hungry right now. Can I save it?¡±

    ¡°You must eat it all,¡± said Home, in exactly the same tone as before. Still, he got the impression she was about to get stern, so he nodded and kept eating.

    It didn¡¯t overfill him as much as he¡¯d expected, probably since it melted away into liquid, but by the end he was having a lot less fun with it. His jaw was getting tired from that much chewing, and the dryads didn¡¯t budge a hair¡¯s breadth until he¡¯d finished it all.

    ¡°Good. Remember that you must always eat it all,¡± said Home.

    ¡°I¡¯ll remember,¡± he said. What would they do if he didn¡¯t eat it? Probably hold him down and feed him by force.

    It felt odd having three people in his den, like there was something he should be doing, but he couldn¡¯t figure out what. What did human dens look like inside? All he had to go on was the underground part of the city.

    ¡°Hey, Home, can you make something like this for everyone? A table and chairs?¡± Dirt sent Home a mental image of the table he¡¯d cleared away in the big room, surrounded by four chairs. There was enough room in here. She could put it right in the middle. He wasn¡¯t even sure if he¡¯d like chairs more than just sitting on the ground, but it would make this place more human.

    ¡°No, you will soon learn to shape wood on your own. Now that you have eaten, come, there is something you must do,¡± said Home. Callius nodded at the doorway, a twinkle in his eye that promised some kind of mischief. Was he practicing that? It seemed like he was overdoing it now.

    Dirt followed them out of the house and tried not to shudder when he saw a couple dryads with bright streaks of blood on their torsos and faces. They were unharmed.

    Home led them out along her root, the one his house was attached too, until it was low enough to step onto. From there, she led them back up to her trunk. When she got close enough to touch it, she turned and gestured to her side with her arm.

    With a strange repeated gentle popping sound, a lump of wood emerged from her trunk, a little longer than Dirt¡¯s shoulders were across, and flattish on top. Another appeared right next to it, a little higher. Then another.

    Stairs. Home was making stairs for him.

    ¡°You will ascend these stairs. Take care that you do not fall,¡± she said.

    ¡°This will be for your benefit. Please, friend, trust us and give it total effort,¡± said Callius, gesturing as well.

    Dawn lightly placed her hands on his back and gave him the slightest push imaginable.

    Dirt grinned. ¡°Okay, I can do that. I know the word for this and it¡¯s exercise. It will make me strong, right? So how far up do I have to go?¡±

    No answer. He glanced at Home¡¯s mind, but she¡¯d pulled away too much of it already and he couldn¡¯t discern anything useful.

    ¡°How far do I have to go?¡± he asked. ¡°The whole way? Because¡­¡±

    Looking up made him tired all by itself. It was a long way up. A long way. They were only ten or fifteen paces up from the ground here, and it wasn¡¯t even high enough to mention compared with the branches. The crowd of dryads below gazed up eagerly, all quiet and attentive. He wasn¡¯t getting out of this, was he? He¡¯d just have to go as far as he could and stop there, because he was sure it¡¯d take him more than one day to go all the way up.

    Dirt sighed and took the first step, then the second. The stairs were solid enough, and wide enough that if he leaned toward the trunk he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d fall. After ten steps, he looked down, and that was a mistake. It was one thing to be up high on Socks¡¯ back, and quite another when there was nothing below you except the crevice of a joint between two roots.

    After twenty steps, he heard that gentle popping sound behind him and when he turned to look, the stairs at the bottom were withdrawing into the trunk at an alarming pace. Dirt turned and ran upward.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 30

    The stairs appeared for Dirt to climb up as fast as he could go, but the ones disappearing behind him kept a slower, regular rhythm. Which was good, because after going up about 50 of them he was panting and ready to quit. Stairs, it turned out, were a lot of work.

    He kept going, though, glancing upward in desperation, hoping they didn¡¯t think he needed to go the whole way. He tried not to glance downward at all, lest it make him dizzy from vertigo and fall. He was already higher up than he remembered Socks jumping.

    Did the dryads even know a fall from this height would kill him? Even if he landed in the dirt, it¡¯d break every bone in his body. And he wouldn¡¯t land in the dirt. He¡¯d hit a root and his skull would crack open like an egg. The bright yellow yolk inside would spill out everywhere and the dryads would stand around blankly wondering what had gone wrong.

    For a while, he could relax a bit and just go at the same pace as the stairs were disappearing. Even and steady. His thighs were the worst, already burning with exertion more than the rest of him. He hoped they felt better instead of worse as he went, or this might be a short climb.

    A hundred stairs. Another hundred. No change, no rest. Just stairs. This will be for your benefit, they¡¯d said. Give it all your effort. Dirt supposed they truly meant all his effort.

    Another hundred and his legs were losing their strength. Once, he stumbled, which set his heart racing because Dirt knew he was about to fall, right until he caught his balance and kept going.

    But his screaming legs were getting less obedient, and after only ten more steps Dirt kicked the front of a stair and stumbled again. He grabbed on with both hands while he tried to get his feet back in place. Something was off about this one and after taking a closer look, he saw that it wasn¡¯t regular. Nor were any of the next ten. They were all different, some higher, or a longer gap, or a narrower surface.

    Now that was just mean! Couldn¡¯t they see how hard it was already, and now they made it harder? Did they want him to fall? Running took three times as much effort now, since he had to take each step deliberately. No rhythm to rely on.

    Another fifty stairs. Fifty more. The disappearing steps were catching up to him now. Four steps ahead. Three.

    ¡°Home, stop!¡± he shouted. Yelling stole too much air from his lungs and they burned even more. His legs were about to stop obeying him. He could feel it. There was nothing left in them. Two steps. One.

    ¡°Stop!¡± he shouted again, slapping the smooth bark of her trunk as hard as he could.

    The step slid out from under him. At the last second he kicked off its four remaining inches to jump one step further. That one almost tumbled him sideways as it withdrew, but he kept going.

    Did the dryads really not know about falling? How would they have learned? Did they truly not know just how dangerous this was? Why couldn¡¯t they just let him run on the ground?

    He was almost out of energy and in serious trouble.The world closed in around his vision, leaving him only a little window to see through. His heart beat so fast he could feel it in his face. Nothing was a color anymore, just shapes.

    His feet got heavier still. Each step up was a monumental effort. They were as heavy as if statues were tied to them, his lungs burning so much he thought he might faint. His mind melted, over-focused and overused as the rest of him. But still he kept going.

    Twenty more steps. Forty. He crawled forward with his arms as much as his legs, pulling himself up and forward. His shins hurt and felt like they might be bleeding, but he didn¡¯t remember doing it and couldn¡¯t stop to look.

    Dirt knew he¡¯d never make it, but he had to go until Home caught on and saved him. Surely she was watching! Surely she¡¯d know he was about to die, about to collapse and fall so far, far down, and smash on her roots. Just a little more, and she¡¯d notice. One more step. One more.

    I WAS RIGHT ABOUT YOU, he imagined Mother saying. The thought infuriated him. He¡¯d fall, and she¡¯d just tell Socks she was right all along and he¡¯d be better off without Dirt. Well, he would not let her be right about this. She might know everything else, but not this.

    Anger gave him another burst of energy, or perhaps it was just passion, but he drove himself harder. He crawled up the stairs with snarls and hisses in time with his breathing. Twenty more. Twenty more. Ten. Five. Two.

    That burst of energy faded, though, and left him feeling more empty than before. His arms and legs were barely moving no matter how hard he tried to move them.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    His hand slipped and he fell against a stair, bruising his ribs and knocking the breath from his lungs. He scrambled to get back up, but his balance wavered and he slipped again. With the last little smidge of strength he had left, he pushed himself up and crawled up one more step.

    It slid out from under him. He reached for the next but missed. He felt himself begin to drop and knew that was it. He¡¯d die knowing he hadn¡¯t given up, at least. Worthy of a wolf. His eyes closed, unable to keep open anymore, as the air parted to let him slip downward.

    CATCH HIM. HE IS READY.

    A dozen hands grabbed him tightly and pulled him into the tree. Before he realized what was happening, he was swallowed by blackness and enveloped by wood that pressed on every part of him like he was under water.

    The tree¡¯s night-hum pounded through him. Energy roared past him. Home was full of mana, torrents of it.

    But it didn¡¯t matter because he couldn¡¯t breathe. He opened his mouth and tried to scream and couldn¡¯t. He tried to suck in air even though there was none to be had, and couldn¡¯t. Panic awoke one last bit of spark he didn¡¯t know he had, giving a final moment of clarity before the end.

    ¡°Let me out!¡± he screamed to Home¡¯s mind.

    His lungs burned. His need for air was agony.

    TAKE IN MANA, AS DID MY SON. YOU HAVE SEEN HIM DO IT.

    Mother? He had no time to think. He¡¯d taken in mana as Socks during a mind meld, but never on his own. Still, he sucked in as hard as he could and tried to grab onto that elusive power with senses he didn¡¯t have. Fill me up, fill me up, fill me up!

    Even though an ocean of mana suffused the wood he swam in, it didn¡¯t work. He couldn¡¯t draw it in. He watched his thoughts slipping into unconsciousness. He never let up, trying until the last.

    His body went limp. His mind drifted into nothingness. Then¡ªonly then¡ªdid he relax whatever part of him needed to relax. Dirt¡¯s desire for mana drew it into him in floods, filling him with sparks that erupted into flame and lightning, suffusing every inch of him with light.

    Dirt gasped as a small cavity opened around his head. He drank the air greedily, panting harder than Socks after a long run in sunlight. Mana filled him now, fuller than he¡¯d ever been. His mind sharpened and re-awakened now that he could finally catch his breath and relax, and in that clarity he realized what they¡¯d done.

    The trees had given him magic. He needed to be completely empty, empty all the way, almost dead. That was the key, the thing Socks couldn¡¯t teach him. The part of him that took in mana had needed to unclench and breathe and the only way was to get like this, to get to the edge of death, drained of his last spark.

    If there was ever another way, he didn¡¯t care, because now that it was his¡ªtruly his this time and not a gift from Socks¡ªmana felt like joy. There was no room left for anger. He didn¡¯t turn the mana into strength, or do anything else with it at all. It was enough for him to feel it there, shining inside him.

    The tree pushed him out and he collapsed into the waiting arms of Home and others, Callius and Dawn and several more catching him with soft and gentle hands. They wrapped their arms around him, holding him safe.

    Dirt was back at ground level now, close to his house. They carried him inside and lay him down on a pile of soft fibers that were now in the middle of the room, much like his bed was made out of. Home held him in her arms, letting him sit up and lean back against her bosom to rest.

    Callius raised cupped hands to Dirt¡¯s mouth and poured in a little water for him to drink. Dirt gulped it down, feeling how it chilled and soothed him all the way down. He kept drinking, and it quickly became apparent that Callius wasn¡¯t holding the water¡ªhe was producing it from his palms somehow.

    The boy stood up and looked down at Dirt with good-natured pity. Outside his home, a hundred more dryads crowded the door and windows, all peering in with anxious expressions.

    ¡°Are you angry with us, friend Dirt?¡± asked Home.

    ¡°I¡¯m too worn out to be mad about anything,¡± he said. ¡°And I can gather mana all on my own now, and right now, I don¡¯t care at all what I had to do to get it. Was it hard to watch? To do all that to me?¡±

    Home said, ¡°We are learning the meaning of pain by watching you. We are beginning to understand, slowly. The pain we witness and understand, we also feel.¡± Her fingertips traced along his forehead and cheeks, leaving behind trails of sensation on his skin. She really did care about him, he was learning. He didn¡¯t even have to look at her mind to know.

    ¡°Then I guess we¡¯re friends for real, now, huh?¡± said Dirt, growing contemplative. ¡°Oh, did I hear Mother¡¯s voice, right at the end of that?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that was her,¡± said Dawn. ¡°I speak with her more often than the others do. There are two ways you could have learned. Only one was fast. The others are all slow. She said she preferred the slow, since that would have let Socks outgrow you and move on.¡±

    ¡°What were the slow ways?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It is how humans usually learn, but I did not ask because I knew which you would pick,¡± she said.

    Dirt grinned, tired. The mana was slowly draining out of him, returning to the world it came from. That was fine. He could feel the part of his mana body that could draw in more, and it would obey him. ¡°I know it¡¯s still early, but I think I¡¯m ready for a little nap, if that¡¯s okay. Or should I use this mana to wake back up and get going?¡±

    ¡°No, you are in an early stage of physical development. Rest will be better for you. Sleep now. No harm will come to you here. And when you wake, you will eat, and then we shall play,¡± said Callius, sitting down next to the pile of fibers. He sat cross-legged and leaned back, relaxed but attentive.

    Home slid away, just far enough that Dirt could lay down fully and rest his head on her tiny-leaf-covered legs. She gently massaged his scalp, and he closed his eyes in contentment. She said, ¡°And tomorrow, you will begin to learn to use the mana you now can gather. One step at a time, isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    He smiled. ¡°Just not so many at once.¡±

    ¡°Not so many at once.¡±

    Before he fell asleep for the nap, however, he collected his mental strength for one last thing. Even though Socks¡¯ mind was much too far away for him to see, he pictured it, trying to assemble it as vividly as possible from his memory. ¡°HEY SOCKS! I CAN TAKE IN MANA NOW!¡±

    There was no reply.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 31

    After a good long nap, the dryads fed him too much sap, but he told himself too much food was better than not enough. All he had to do was remember crossing that grassy plain with nothing to eat or drink, and the sap went down easy.

    Once they were satisfied that he¡¯d eaten enough, Callius led him outside to where the rest were gathered in front of his house. The dryad had a lightness in his step that Dirt was certain he had learned elsewhere, like he was ready to break into a run or dance at any moment.

    Dawn grinned widely in a way that made her look much more like a real girl than usual. She ran out before he did, nudging her way in front of him near the door.

    ¡°Hey!¡± he shouted, laughter in his voice. He followed them outside, listening to their giggling. Home followed after him, calmer and more dignified but not exactly slow.

    Callius turned and said, ¡°Friend Dirt, we are most eager to play. We have adopted a game we play ourselves, in our way of perceiving. There is no trick here, or anything to cause you distress. Just a game. Are you going to join us?¡±

    ¡°Of course! I¡¯ve never played a game,¡± said Dirt. He was glad Callius clarified it wouldn¡¯t be something awful again, because he¡¯d been about to ask.

    ¡°We will all conceal ourselves beneath the ferns, and you will attempt to find us. When you have found one, that one will help you, and so with the next until all are found. Then you will hide, and we will attempt to find you,¡± said Callius, almost edging away to go start already.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dirt. ¡°That sounds way simpler than I was expecting. And a lot less dangerous. Okay. Do I need to give you time to hide first or anything? How far will you go?¡±

    ¡°We will assign a triangle between these three trees, and remain inside it,¡± said Callius, pointing at Home and the two nearest trees. ¡°It will not matter if you watch. Good luck.¡±

    With that, the dryads turned as one and melted into the ferns. Only a small number of fronds moved as they passed, and then nothing. Total silence, like when he¡¯d first awoken here. Empty, majestic grandeur in every direction, and not so much as a twitching frond. No, that wasn¡¯t quite true. Some moved slightly and only briefly, as if they¡¯d leaned on purpose to let a dryad pass. Which, he admitted, was entirely possible.

    Well, that wasn¡¯t fair. How did they do that? They were his size, and he wasn¡¯t sure he could do it even if he went really slowly.

    Dirt grinned, filling with excitement. This was going to be hard! It was several hundred paces to the next tree, which left a massive amount of area to search. They¡¯d probably move around to avoid him, too.

    He wouldn¡¯t be able to find them from their minds, since their minds were far away in their trees. He couldn¡¯t smell them or hear like Socks could. He could gather mana, but how would that even help? Maybe run faster, but to where?

    He just had to find one dryad and watch them, and see how they found each other. He could do that. Dirt shouted, ¡°Here I come!¡± at the top of his lungs. He started pushing through the ferns, and his eyes darted across the landscape looking for any motion at all.

    As he went, he pushed ferns aside from time to time to check for footprints. Near his house there were too many for it to be useful, but as he got farther out there were fewer and fewer until there were none. From there he went back and forth in expanding arcs until he found his first trail.

    Dirt hastened anew in that direction, slowing every couple paces just to check and make sure he was still going the right way.

    The dryad almost lost him when she doubled back on his trail, but he just barely caught a glimpse of gray bark-skin and dove in.

    ¡°Got you!¡± he yelled, before it was actually true. But he only had to scramble a bit farther before he grabbed her ankle, and that was that. She was caught.

    She stood and wiped a bit of black earth off her knees and smiled prettily. Her green hair was curly and a bit paler than the rest. He didn¡¯t recognize her.

    ¡°Let us quickly find the others,¡± she said.

    Dirt nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±

    The ferns really did bend out of the way when she walked. She only had to brush a fingertip against them, and they would somehow know. Dirt glanced at the ferns¡¯ minds, trying to find the right one, but it wasn¡¯t easy, and he didn¡¯t want to spend too long standing around.

    Dirt found the next dryad, another one he didn¡¯t recognize, but that was the last one he found before their turn was over. All the rest were found by each other, and each time it happened they shouted, ¡°Got you!¡± just as he had done.

    After about half had been found, it didn¡¯t really matter if he kept searching, so he spent more time trying to watch the minds of the ferns to see what the dryads were doing. Near the end of their turn, there were so many dryads walking around that Dirt finally got a good look.

    It was one bundle of information, nearly the same one each time. The dryads spoke to the ferns like they did to each other, except much simpler. They needed physical contact, but that was enough to convey their thoughts. Dirt supposed it wasn¡¯t too different from hearing, since you had to be close enough to hear. They just used fingers or roots instead of ears and mouths.

    He did his best to memorize the word they shared as the ferns understood it. He was sure he could use it.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Once the game was over, they all gathered back at his house, laughing and chatting among themselves. Dirt supposed this must be how they acted when they played tree games amongst themselves, or something close to this and they were translating it for him. Either way it made quite a racket, and something about hearing so many human voices did him well, deep inside.

    Then it was his turn. He sprinted into the ferns, ignoring the weariness that remained in his legs. He needed to get as far as possible before they started after him. After about fifty paces he ducked down and started crawling in a different direction, as fast as he could. He did his best to avoid the ferns, but it just wasn¡¯t possible to avoid them all. They grew too close together.

    Dirt had no idea what senses they would use to find him. Could they smell as well as Socks? Or hear? If so, this game would be short.

    He carefully lay down, not touching any ferns, and tried to stop breathing so heavily after his run. Then he waited, listening carefully for anyone to get close.

    His heart hadn¡¯t even slowed back down after the run before Home found him. He didn¡¯t hear her until she was too close, and before he knew it, she¡¯d caught him.

    ¡°Already? How did you find me? You walked right to me!¡± Dirt said, trying not to sound annoyed.

    ¡°You damage the ferns as you go. Finding you is simple. If you wish to pass in peace, harm nothing, and do not trample the young and tender shoots,¡± she said, holding out her hand to lift him from the ground.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I damaged the ferns much, though. I was being careful to go between them.¡±

    ¡°Here,¡± said Home, pointing at a frond bent halfway up. ¡°And here.¡± She pointed at a place where he¡¯d stepped on one and broken off some of the little leaves, pushing them into the dirt.

    ¡°But that¡¯s so small. How did you notice it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not small to the fern, dear Dirt,¡± said Home.

    He considered that for a moment. ¡°Are you going to tell me not to hurt any plants at all, since you¡¯re a tree?¡±

    ¡°No, all things will do as they must to be what they are. You must harm to exist because your food is things which have life. We eat air and soil and light, and do not know pain. These ferns are too small and temporary to fear death. They live with us in the perceptions of magic and dream and rejoice until they die. But you should take care to understand what you want, dear Dirt, if you wish to achieve it.¡±

    Dirt nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll be more careful.¡±

    ¡°As you choose, friend Dirt,¡± said Home. ¡°I have more fun hiding than seeking, so you may freely continue to be bad at hiding, and I will not mind.¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°Well, tell everyone to hide, I guess. Let¡¯s get started.¡±

    Home smiled in her serene, motherly way, but a hint of mischief showed in her eyes. She backed away so smoothly he wasn¡¯t sure her feet were moving. She ducked down under the ferns about twenty paces away from him, and that was that. The game was on.

    In the next round, Dirt paid more attention to the minds of the ferns, trying to watch for disturbances that might give away a dryad. It wasn¡¯t easy, though, because there were so many around, and they were small. The lights of their minds took significant mental focus to peer into, and besides that, he didn¡¯t know which mind-light went with which fern.

    It started wearing him out, so he got more selective about when and where he looked. The trick, he quickly learned, was to touch a fern himself and see which mind reacted.

    He found his first dryad more slowly than the first round, but he found four more before they started finding each other too quickly for him to keep up.

    When it was his turn to hide again, he sprinted out as before, but this time instead of trying to crawl away quickly, he ducked down and touched a few ferns, taking careful note of exactly how they reacted in their minds. The specific sensation it caused them and their thoughts about it. Once he was sure he had it memorized, he sent that thought to all the ferns, and confused them terribly.

    He crawled only a short distance then, as carefully as he could to not disturb anything. Once he found a spot he could lie down in without touching any ferns, he curled up and waited, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.

    Every so often, he sent the sensation to a different group of ferns to make them think he¡¯d touched them. He had no idea where they were, but he tried to find the dimmer ones and speak to several at once.

    Dirt waited. And waited. Dryads walked nearby, but never close enough to come across him. He heard them swishing through the ferns, which he was sure they were doing on purpose.

    The dryads had their own new tricks, however. Once they realized they weren¡¯t going to find him like before, they sent out a question that passed through the mind of every single fern. He paid close attention and determined it had two parts¡ªone, something similar to asking them to bend out of the way or their reaction to being touched, and two, a particular arrangement, or sensation, or idea, that he figured signified him. A fern wouldn¡¯t know who he was, though, so maybe it was something like, ¡°Hey, did you get touched by skin?¡±

    He wasn¡¯t touching any ferns, though, so it didn¡¯t work. But then they did something he never expected and made a strong gust of wind blow through. It had to be them that caused it¡ªthere was no other explanation. A strong gust of wind just happened to blow past, right then? The first time the air had moved at all the whole time he¡¯d been in the forest?

    Sure enough, the wind pushed the ferns far enough over to touch him, and they found him shortly after.

    They played two more rounds after that, and each one was more ridiculous than the last. When it was his turn, he figured out how to modify the question to ask about bark-skin, not human skin, and found twenty of them right away. On their turn, they stood two paces apart from each other to make a huge line and simply flushed him out.

    On their next turn they passed by the ferns without leaving a trace, making him wonder if they¡¯d just sunk into the dirt. It turned out they had, or something close to that. He followed a trail of footprints that disappeared midstride, leaving him clueless. But when he ducked down to try to figure out what happened, he spotted gray bark-skin a few paces away through the fern stems, or he might never have found them.

    On their next turn, they filled the area with tiny tree roots, and no sooner did one touch him than it sucked him through, just like when they brought him from Socks¡¯s den, but far less painfully because the distance was short.

    ¡°Okay, this is getting silly,¡± said Dirt as he stood back up. Half the dryads were chuckling to each other, whispering back and forth and looking like they were having a great time.

    Callius said, ¡°It is escalating beyond what we intended. Were you having fun?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, definitely. I just don¡¯t know where we go from there,¡± said Dirt, laughter in his voice.

    ¡°Just when we think we understand your capabilities, you increase them,¡± said Callius. ¡°What are we supposed to do?¡±

    ¡°I was just thinking the same thing about you!¡± said Dirt, and several of the nearby dryads laughed. It wasn¡¯t even that funny, but maybe they were picking up on his body language.

    Home said, ¡°Perhaps it is time to eat again. Will you come, dear Dirt?¡± She held her hand out for him to take.

    He hesitated, and Dawn patted him on the back and said, ¡°Don¡¯t look like that. Come, you must eat whether you want to or not, for your benefit.¡±

    ¡°Was it that obvious?¡±

    ¡°No, but we are learning. Come, Dirt. Come, and if you eat well, then we will explain the shape of reality. You should know these things in preparation for tomorrow, when we begin instructing you in the use of magic.¡±

    Callius said, ¡°We will tell you of magic, and of mind.¡±

    Home added, ¡°Of spirit, of dream, and of that which lies beneath all things.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± said Dirt, taking Home¡¯s hand, ¡°I guess I can¡¯t turn that down.¡±

 Ancient Things - Chapter 32

    After eating another big glop of sap, the dryads sat down with him in the middle of his house, where he¡¯d wanted to put a table. The four of them sat cross-legged, knees touching. Callius leaned back, but the two girls sat up straight. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure which of them to copy, but after he stopped thinking about it, he later realized he was leaning back like Callius.

    Dawn¡¯s face brightened. She said, ¡°Listen well, little friend. This body you are, little Dirt sitting here touching our knees, who breathes this air, and hears, and sees, and smells, is only one of the seven bodies.¡±

    ¡°Except I suppose some of us have eight now, don¡¯t we?¡± said Callius with a wry grin.

    ¡°This body,¡± she continued, touching Dirt¡¯s leg with her fingertips, ¡°is the physical, and it lives in the world of the physical. It is a world we knew but never perceived in this way. We knew what soil was, and water, and air, and all things that compose them. But we knew it incompletely, until you appeared.¡±

    Home said, ¡°In the dream, you are the dream self. It is you and part of you. It sees the infinite world of possibility, where nothing is fixed and all potential states are present. That is the nature of dreaming¡ªit is all real, but ephemeral and temporary,¡± said Home.

    Dawn said, ¡°That is your second self, little Dirt. Your physical body is one. Your dream body is two. The physical world is one, and the dream world is two. They are the same. Do you understand?¡±

    Dirt considered that for a moment. The knowledge was new, but it felt familiar. He might have known this once, or had been on the cusp of understanding it already. ¡°So my dream body goes into the dream world when I sleep? I guess my dream body is sleeping when my physical body is awake?¡±

    Callius twitched his knee and said, ¡°Nope! It doesn¡¯t go anywhere. It¡¯s right there, where you are, all the time. The only way to have a body go somewhere else is to make one of these.¡± He pointed at his own chest.

    Dawn said, ¡°The dream comes to you, dear Dirt. You don¡¯t go to it. Without the physical to anchor it and hold it apart, the dream would collapse into nothing and all perception of it would be impossible. The dream and the physical are part of each other. All things that are, and all things that could be, forever linked.¡±

    Home said, ¡°Your other selves must be in the right state to fully perceive the dream. Your physical body must be asleep, for example.¡±

    ¡°Am I dreaming right now, then?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the three dryads said at once.

    The knowledge sank into him like he¡¯d just witnessed something sacred. It had power. Dirt¡¯s eyes glazed over as he thought about what it meant that he was dreaming, right now. Part of him was still¡­ asleep? Or was that even correct?

    ¡°Close your eyes,¡± said Callius. ¡°Good. Now, hold out your hand. Palm up. Imagine that you are holding a rock. Imagine that it is red. Can you picture it in your mind?¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°Yeah, I think so. Yes. Yes, I can.¡±

    ¡°That image is the dream, friend.¡±

    His eyes shot open. ¡°What? Really? Anything I imagine, just, well, anything I picture at all, that¡¯s the dream?¡±

    ¡°Of course, dear Dirt,¡± said Home, placing her hand on top of his. Her gray bark-skin was cool to the touch. ¡°What else could it be? Everything you picture in your mind is the dream, and it is real. Present with you, surrounding you, part of you. Your will guides it.¡±

    Dirt asked, ¡°Is there¡­ anything you can do with it?¡±

    Callius said, ¡°You can start fires, for one. And create food to eat, and fly in the air.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°No. I am teasing you. But the wise can find hidden truth there, if they know how to look.¡±

    Dawn grew serious for a moment and said, ¡°Remember that the dream is real, and your dream self is always there even if you are not aware of it. The things you imagine affect you long after your physical mind has moved on to other thoughts. Do not imagine too much that is unpleasant, friend Dirt, or you will suffer in your heart for no reason.¡±

    Home said, ¡°The next body, the next world, is the mind. The great wolves, the fae, the elementals, and others, can see it as you do. It is not a world we perceive directly, but all living things exist there, and living things only. Nothing can be alive without it. All living things have a mind. All.¡±

    Dawn said, ¡°Thoughts and experiences are seen there, but the world of the mind is not their source. It is the place where they are manifested for the living. Nor is the body, or the dream, the source of thought, but thoughts can be found in them.¡±

    Dirt asked, ¡°So if I see something moving that doesn¡¯t have a light in the mind world, it¡¯s not alive?¡±

    ¡°That is correct. It might inhabit the world of magic or spirit or dream and be capable of something like thought, but if it has no presence in the mind, it is not alive. Magic may drive the wind, such that it moves, but the wind is not alive. Only that which is complete is alive.¡±

    He thought of the tentacle monster from the water, how its mind had been mostly empty with only periodic thoughts coming across it, even though it seemed to move around just fine. ¡°What if its mind is only partially there? Like, it¡¯s not hiding it, it¡¯s just mostly missing, even though it¡¯s still moving?¡±

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ¡°Then I suppose it would be partially alive, and partially dead,¡± said Callius. ¡°It would be an abomination. Unnatural.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dirt, growing uncomfortable. No wonder Socks had hated it so much.

    Home pinched his first, second, and third fingers. ¡°Physical, dream, mind. Are you ready for the next?¡±

    ¡°Magic?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± said Callius.

    Home pressed her fingertip into the middle of Dirt¡¯s palm. ¡°Next is the Self. At the center of all that you are is that which is truly eternal, always growing but never changing. It will always be you and has always been you.¡±

    ¡°Its place is firmly set in your spirit, which is the next body. We cannot explain one without the other,¡± said Dawn.

    Home said, ¡°Your Self can only be in one Spirit, which is what you are. Spirit without Self is like base matter. It has no will. It has no thought. It simply is.¡±

    ¡°Spirit with Self is that which acts upon all other things,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°The world of Spirit is like the Dream because all things are present there, which ever have been or ever will be. But unlike the Dream, it contains no unmet potential. Spirit is only that which is true. To peer into the Spirit now would be to see this forest as it now stands, or as it was at any time in the past,¡± said Home. ¡°And to those who are properly constituted, as it will ever be in the future.¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°Socks can do that, can¡¯t he? Is that what ghost sight is?¡±

    ¡°We do not know,¡± said Dawn.

    ¡°Well, I can ask him someday, then. So do I only have one spirit at a time? Could I ever be a wolf?¡±

    Callius smiled. ¡°Your physical might be shaped into a wolf with magic, but your spirit can only ever be what it is because only one spirit matches your Self. When you die, you lose your physical, your mind, and your dream, but not your spirit. If you are born again somewhere else, it can only be as this. As you. You can never be anything else.¡± The dryad patted him on the shoulder.

    Dawn said, ¡°Indeed, if you ever come into the world again, it can only be because another one of these, this very body, has come into being. Perhaps one deformed, perhaps one perfected; perhaps on this world, perhaps on another; but still this body. You are one Self, one spirit, one body, one dream, one mind that emanates from the connection between them all.¡±

    Home pressed her fingertip into the center of his palm again. ¡°We explained all that for the joy of giving you the knowledge we are about to share, which you can now understand. By way of your Spirit, your Self directs your physical body, your emanation in the world of the mind, and your dream body.¡± She pinched his first, second, and third fingers in turn for the physical, mind, and dream.

    ¡°It also directs your mana vessel, or the body of magic,¡± she said, pinching his fourth finger.

    ¡°So you do magic with your spirit?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Callius. ¡°You do everything with your spirit. Dream. Run. Talk. Remember. Everything.¡±

    ¡°So what is magic, exactly? What is the magic world like?¡±

    Home said, ¡°It is the many powers by which all things are sustained. It shapes the physical to conform to the spirit and fastens the dream in place. It is power, energy, movement, and connection, but not raw and chaotic. It is all those things as they direct the world and as the world directs them.¡±

    ¡°What does it look like?¡±

    Dawn traced her fingers down his arm, since Home was still holding his hand, and said, ¡°It is not seen with the eyes. It is perceived with the mana vessel. But think of the dream, dear Dirt, and this world.¡± She gestured vaguely around her with her hand. ¡°What does all of this look like? It looks like everything. There is as much beauty and variety there as here.¡±

    Callius jiggled his knee to get Dirt to look at him instead and said, ¡°Magic is part of how we shape the world. It¡¯s how we make the fog come up every night, for one. We do tree magic. You do human magic. The wolves do wolf magic.¡±

    ¡°Wait, so it¡¯s all different? Can you even teach me human magic, since you¡¯re trees?¡± Dirt asked.

    Callius grinned. ¡°You have a human mana vessel, but the world is the world. You have feet and Socks has paws. Can you not both walk the same ground?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still not sure what you mean. Do I use magic all the time without realizing, like the dream?¡±

    Callius said, ¡°It holds you together, so I suppose you could say that.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ so what exactly can you do with it?¡±

    Dawn squeezed his arm again to get him to look back at her. ¡°The moment we answer that question is the moment we entice you to limit yourself. You will find many who circumscribe a portion and say, ¡®This is the totality.¡¯ Others will point and say, ¡®This boundary cannot be crossed.¡¯ Yet more will say, ¡®What you think you have done, you have not.¡¯ Some truths, once learned, cause one to stop believing more truth.¡±

    Dirt nodded, his mind swirling to try and make sense of it all. Some of it seemed natural and right, like that the dream and his imagination were the same thing, and that he had a spirit and a Self. He¡¯d seen that already when Mother pulled him apart, after all. But even though he was ready to learn all this, it was still taking its time sinking in.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± he said. ¡°You said there were seven selves. Physical, dream, mind, magic, spirit, Self. That¡¯s six. What¡¯s the last one?¡±

    The three dryads smiled sagely, as if pleased he¡¯d asked. Home was the one who answered. ¡°Divinity, dear Dirt. Some call it Glory or Law. You have a tiny spark of it.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± he replied. ¡°Just me?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± said Callius.

    Dirt expected more explanation, but none came.

    ¡°You do not seem surprised,¡± said Dawn. ¡°This is a great truth we have shared with you, one hidden from the world.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, thanks. It¡¯s just that I don¡¯t know what those words mean, that¡¯s why.¡±

    ¡°Do you not know all the words, dear Dirt?¡± asked Home.

    ¡°I know a lot of words, and I can tell you other words about them. For example, I know that a cart goes on a road. I¡¯ve seen a road, but not a cart. I don¡¯t know what one is. It carries goods and people, but I don¡¯t know what goods are, either. Carts are pulled by oxen or donkeys or horses and those are animals, but I don¡¯t know what they look like. I know divinity is a thing gods have, but I don¡¯t know what it is, or what gods are. I saw one, or a statue of one, but I still don¡¯t understand it. You may as well be telling me that cats have scissors.¡±

    The three dryads all went silent for a moment, forgetting to blink. It took a moment, long enough for Dirt to wonder what they were thinking about and look at Home¡¯s mind. Unfortunately, other than the part that matched her dryad, her mind was too foreign to read. Except¡­ it seemed like she was waiting for something, a particular burst of information from elsewhere.

    Dawn was the first to reawaken, and she grinned widely and covered her mouth with one hand. Soon after, Callius and Home awoke and chuckled to each other.

    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±

    Laughter dancing in his voice, Callius said, ¡°Dawn asked a being you have not yet met, but who is a friend to us, what cats and scissors are. It turns out cats cannot operate scissors because they do not have thumbs.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what cats and scissors are either.¡±

    ¡°Yes, we understand. All the same,¡± said Dawn, rising to her feet. ¡°I think that is enough knowledge for you today.¡±

    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re not going to tell me what cats and scissors are?¡±

    Dawn pulled Home to her feet and said, ¡°We do not want to overburden you with new knowledge.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on!¡±

    With uncharacteristic seriousness, Callius said, ¡°You will learn what cats are when you are ready. Perhaps it is not yet time.¡± His eyes sparkled with mischief, though, giving him away.

    ¡°You¡¯re teasing me again.¡±

    Callius barked a short laugh and said, ¡°You are right, my dear Home. He is indeed a fast learner. Now come, Dirt, let us play and wander and eat and enjoy the rest of the day.¡±

 Ancient Things - Chapter 33

    Socks joined him in the dream that night and together they chased and danced in a twilight field of tiny swirling lights that turned out to be bugs. But the pup seemed distracted, leaving and returning several times until he finally left Dirt to wander alone until dawn.

    Dirt woke feeling uneasy and crawled out of bed without even waiting to stretch and get his sparks back. He drank from his little water basin, but not enough to make his stomach slosh because he could get more any time he wanted. The luxury of getting water anytime he wanted still made him smile, which helped him feel a little better. He grabbed the big glop of sap, big as his two fists together, and got to work. It always tasted better when he was hungry, he noticed. Sweeter.

    ¡°Open,¡± he told the doorway. He stepped out into the thick fog, carrying the sap to munch on. It was still too early in the morning to see very far, but after about five steps he could see Callius and Home and Dawn waiting for him, inert. They were a little slower waking this morning, he supposed, although some of the others were coming alive, blinking and acting like they were breathing.

    ¡°Hello,¡± said Dirt to a dryad he hadn¡¯t talked to before while he munched on his sap.

    She smiled, but didn¡¯t speak. He noticed more of her was covered by the tiny little leaves than most of the others; indeed, all of her from neck to toes. She must be less involved than the rest.

    ¡°Good morning,¡± said some of the other girls nearby, and one that he thought might be a boy, with long hair. They stretched convincingly and gave him tired morning smiles. ¡°Are you ready for the day?¡± asked one.

    ¡°I hope so. I don¡¯t know what to expect,¡± he said. ¡°Say, you all know the same things, right? More or less?¡±

    One of the girls laughed, and several others chuckled and covered their mouths with one hand. ¡°No, little friend. Do you and your friend Socks know all the same things?¡±

    Dirt thought about that for a moment and said, ¡°No, but that¡¯s only because he¡¯s been alive for longer. And he had different people to teach him. Mother and Father and his siblings.¡±

    ¡°Just so with us.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± He tried not to look as silly as he felt. ¡°No, I mean, you share basically everything, right? If I have a question, I may as well just ask anybody?¡±

    ¡°What would you like to know?¡±

    More of them were waking up now and starting to crowd in, watching curiously, although they no longer stared at him. Now they looked away from time to time. It made them much less creepy, he realized. They yawned and stretched, which made him have to yawn again. Three different times. Was that a tree thing, or a human thing, he wondered?

    Dirt asked, ¡°Is Socks okay? He¡¯s not in danger, is he? I think someone hinted he might be and I feel uneasy about him.¡±

    The one with long hair sounded even more like a boy when he talked. He said, ¡°He is in danger, but as the strongest of the litter, the great wolves are taking care to keep him from being lost.¡±

    Dirt¡¯s unease turned to dread. He almost didn¡¯t want to ask, but he had to. ¡°What¡¯s he in danger from?¡±

    The boy shrugged and said, ¡°We will not tell you. The Mother of Wolves will kill you if we explain too much.¡±

    ¡°Well, can you give me a hint? Is he going to die?¡± Dirt begged.

    Callius came up from behind and put his arm over Dirt¡¯s shoulders, squeezing him in a half hug. ¡°Did you miss that he¡¯s the strongest now? Take heart, little Dirt.¡±

    Dirt stood up straighter in surprise and looked at him. ¡°I did miss that. He is?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Your bond with him made him stronger than any wolf has been at that age since his sire. The wolves all know it. So do many other creatures.¡±

    Dirt wasn¡¯t sure what emotion was going to take over, but when it did, it was resolve. He had to keep up. He had to. He ate the rest of his sap with a serious sort of enthusiasm, wolfing it down as fast as he could swallow.

    By the time he was done, Home and Dawn had joined them, one walking serenely and the other bouncing like a girl on her way to play. They were becoming more different by the day. The dryads were probably all awake now, but he could only see a few paces into the fog so he wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°Okay. I¡¯m ready. Let¡¯s get started.¡±

    Callius gave an excited grin and said, ¡°Good! The first thing to learn will be the easiest. You¡¯re going to synchronize your mana vessel and physical body. Take in mana. Fill right up. Go ahead.¡±

    Dirt nodded resolutely and breathed in the mana, since it felt like breathing to him. He¡¯d learned it in the middle of suffocating to death and now the ideas were linked. Just, not inhaling with his mouth. With another part he could only barely sense.

    The mana filled him, sparks and motion and limitless potential. He sighed contentedly, enjoying the feeling.

    ¡°Good. Now release it all.¡±

    Dirt tried to will it out of himself, to exhale it. The mana didn¡¯t want to go and it took significant mental force to push it out. It would eventually seep away on its own, but that¡¯s not what Callius wanted.

    ¡°Okay, listen well, little Dirt,¡± said Dawn. ¡°Magic will rush in anywhere it can find an opening because that is its nature. You need the strength to balance it perfectly or greater works will always be beyond you.¡±

    ¡°Yep! So you¡¯re just going to do that until we¡¯re satisfied. Do it again,¡± said Callius.

    Dirt did it two, three, four more times. Each time he inhaled mana, it rushed in with impact, filling him immediately; each time he exhaled it, it was like trying to breath sap instead of air, all sticky and viscous.

    ¡°Good enough!¡± said Callius.

    ¡°Well, come on, I¡¯ve never even tried¡ª¡°

    ¡°Good enough is not bad, friend Dirt. It¡¯s good. Now come with me. Let us walk, and you can keep practicing,¡± said Callius, dancing away. He beckoned Dirt forward and began walking.

    Dawn gave him a pretty smile and turned with just as much energy as Callius, starting to walk with an eager little jump first. Home gently patted him on the back, then harder when he didn¡¯t start walking. Dirt laughed, wondering if they ever disagreed about anything. ¡°All right, I¡¯m coming!¡±

    They walked through the slowly dissipating fog as Dirt practiced breathing mana in and out. At first it was harder, since he had to watch where he was going. He couldn¡¯t help but think about breaking ferns every time he took a step now, even though that was silly. There were plenty more and the trees didn¡¯t care.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    But cycling mana got easier, slowly. He found that the natural motion of walking helped him drive it out, even though it wasn¡¯t really his muscles doing the driving.

    All of a sudden, the entire crowd of dryads, hundreds, stopped cold. Callius turned and said, ¡°Good. Now try and take mana in slowly as well. Are you ready?¡±

    ¡°Wait, how did you know? How can you tell what I¡¯m doing?¡±

    ¡°We can see the world of magic, dear Dirt,¡± said Home, serenely. ¡°How else?¡±

    ¡°We are going to run now. Moderate your intake of mana and do not explode,¡± said Callius with another mischievous grin. With that, he turned and left at a quick jog.

    Dirt chased after them, doing his best to keep up. They kept picking up the speed any time he felt himself settling into a rhythm, though, and before long he was sprinting. He tried to slow the intake of mana like they said, but he was having so much trouble keeping up that it was hard to focus.

    He stopped, and they all kept running without even looking back. He made his face calm down, which helped him focus his mind. Dirt inhaled mana, as much as wanted to come in. Socks could run with it. They¡¯d even shared minds and Dirt had done it himself. There was a reason the dryads were running. This was the first time he¡¯d even seen them try.

    Socks had two runs¡ªthe playful, fun one, which was bouncy and joyous and exciting, and the long-distance run, which was sleek and powerful and handsome. The dryads had much more variety, save that they all ran with easy, graceful effortlessness. Some, like Home, ran smoothly like birds floating on the wind and others like Callius and Dawn ran like puppies, exuberant and wild, turning in the air or flinging out their arms and legs from time to time in a dance.

    Dirt focused his will and pushed the mana all throughout his body, just like Socks did. Not just his legs like when he¡¯d jumped a couple times, but all throughout, into every part of him.

    He sprinted forward, riding a burst of power so easily it was like being carried. The dull, heavy air of the forest picked up into a gentle wind in his face, then a stronger one. He had to lengthen his strides or risk falling over, and soon he was practically leaping with each step.

    The distance vanished beneath him and he darted between the running dryads until he burst out ahead of them, laughing and picking up the pace. The mana was burning away inside him, getting all used up. He breathed in through his nose and let more in, trying to slow it down to match the pace at which he was using it. The mana inside him acted as a buffer preventing more from coming in, and that helped him learn the trick.

    The dryads caught up and surrounded him, running fast as wolves, still running in whatever way expressed their personality.

    Dirt settled into a rhythm that quickly became natural. His body breathed and ran, his mana vessel inhaled and exhaled, keeping his body energized. He laughed aloud for pure joy and the wind tried to push its way down his throat, which just made him laugh harder. It was blowing so hard on his face that it was hard to see, but what could he do other than try and squint and keep going? How did Socks do it? He¡¯d have to ask.

    Faster and faster they went, so fast the ferns whipping against his lower half just turned into one broad sensation of pressure, so fast he had to turn his head and peek sideways to see at all.

    Dirt risked a jump high into the air, screaming all the way up, inhaling, and screaming all the way down. He hit the ground hard and tumbled like a bucket full of garbage, rolling and coming to a stop bent every which way.

    He rolled out of being all tangled up and laughed. What had he been thinking? But nothing hurt. The mana had protected him this time. No broken bones at all!

    Dirt shot to his feet, raised both arms, and gave a wolf¡¯s howl for a cheer. The whole crowd of dryads did the same and the impact of their voices was almost deafening. Their cry climbed all the way up to the sky and shook the leaves, it seemed. Probably not really, but it felt that way.

    ¡°Okay, hold on!¡± he said. He stood still and pushed all the mana out, then used the feeling of cycling it while he¡¯d run. It worked. Only a trickle came in, like fiery drips of pure electricity. He didn¡¯t know what that even meant. What is electricity? And besides that, who cared?

    ¡°I did it! Look, Callius, Dawn, Home. Everyone. Look! Watch.¡± Dirt cycled it, just a trickle, in and out, slow as deep breathing. ¡°I can run like a wolf! I can keep up with Socks now! I can really keep up! I¡­ Uh oh, I¡¯m getting too happy, I¡¯m¡ª¡°

    Dirt¡¯s throat got a burning lump in it and his eyes filled with water that had nothing to do with wind. He was so happy he couldn¡¯t contain it, so happy it felt like pain and was making him cry. Magic was his again. It had been so long. And he wasn¡¯t going to lose Socks. It was all too much.

    The dryads crowded in and squeezed him in a giant hug from everyone at once and that just made it worse. His tears vanished into Home¡¯s hair, which he couldn¡¯t smell because now his nose was running. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m just really happy, I¡¯m¡ª¡° but he couldn¡¯t say more.

    They nuzzled him and patted his head and back, hugged and squeezed and consoled him. But he wasn¡¯t even sad, he was just too happy and he felt foolish. It didn¡¯t take him too long to calm down, though, thank Grace.

    ¡°Who is this?¡± asked Home, pointing at the nearest tree, only a hundred paces away.

    A girl raised her hand, hair all curly with a round face.

    ¡°Will you make him some sap, please?¡±

    The dryad nodded and gestured toward her tree. The crowd of dryads gently nudged Dirt in her direction and he smiled, still wiping tears from his eyes.

    He didn¡¯t cycle any mana as they walked, which turned out to be a good idea. He felt sore from hair to toes, but only faintly and hard to pinpoint. It wasn¡¯t bruising from the tumble. He pulled the lump of sap off the bark of her root and sat down to eat and catch his breath, even though he wasn¡¯t really tired.

    The dryad whose tree this was sat next to him, close enough for their arms to touch. She tilted her head back and stared upward, along that eternal length of pale gray bark to the branches so far above. ¡°It is odd to see myself like this,¡± she said.

    Dirt smiled as he swallowed another bite, mostly just glad he wasn¡¯t crying anymore. ¡°I bet it is,¡± he said. ¡°What does it feel like controlling your dryad? Does it feel like you¡¯re in the dryad, or in the tree?¡±

    She tilted her head to the side, thinking. ¡°I suppose it feels like¡­¡± She held out her hand, palm up, and waved it slowly in the air. ¡°It feels like I am holding an eyeball in my hand and looking by moving it around, and without it I cannot see. It also feels like I had eyes during all four thousand years of my life, and never learned to open them until now.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re four thousand years old? Were there ever humans in the forest, do you know?¡±

    She gazed back upward, as if her mind was elsewhere. ¡°I do not know. You are the first human any of us have become aware of. And I have not always been capable, either; in my early years, I was not allowed to grow to my full potential. There was a being here who prevented it.¡±

    Dirt felt the lump of sap stick halfway down his throat and he had to swallow harder. ¡°There was? What was it?¡±

    ¡°If I were to give her a name in words, I might call her The Gardener. She was a mystery, but always kind. She loved us, I believe, but we were not her primary care and were not capable of becoming as we are now until she vanished.¡±

    ¡°Where did she go?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can explain.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re smart, so try,¡± he said with a smile he hoped conveyed his good humor.

    ¡°I do not know exactly what happened to her, that is why. There is a¡­ skin¡­ around the world. Around reality. Around the many perceivings. It exists in the world of Law. Something damaged it two thousand nine hundred and sixty-two years, two hundred twenty-one days ago. That was the last time we felt her hands upon the Many Connections. Upon us, in our way of knowing the world.¡±

    ¡°I came into being long after she disappeared,¡± said Dawn, plopping down to sit nearby, her eyes bright, ¡°as did most of us. This forest was not quite so large during those days.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I bet. I bet there were humans here once, maybe before the forest grew, because there are some ruins that Socks took me to once,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°That sounds interesting. Perhaps we will see them someday.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know where they are?¡±

    ¡°Position in this world is still difficult for us. To us, direction doesn¡¯t mean this way or that way, it means this connection or that connection. We are still learning,¡± said the girl sitting next to him. ¡°And besides, any of us who wished to make a dryad are here, watching you, not wandering around.¡±

    Callius came up and gently kicked his toes. ¡°We¡¯d learn faster if you hurried up and ate so we could run again.¡±

    Dirt grinned, licking some of the sap off his teeth. ¡°You can¡¯t learn if you can¡¯t keep up, Callius.¡±

    ¡°Keep eating,¡± said the curly-haired girl. ¡°And you can wait, old man. I will do it, since I¡¯m right here.¡±

    ¡°Do what?¡± asked Dirt.

    In answer, he felt the forest hum, that familiar night-pulse, rise from the dirt again and fill the air. This time, each gentle wave sang in his mana body, making the whole thing relax. He felt pressure moving around it, perhaps massaging it; he wasn¡¯t sure, and he wondered if he¡¯d ever have fine enough senses in his mana body to understand what was going on. But bit by bit, the vague soreness disappeared.

    Dirt finished his sap while the dryad did whatever she was doing to his mana vessel. Something that helped, it seemed. It was a pleasant sensation, certainly. After it was all gone, Callius eagerly pulled him to his feet and said, ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go!¡±

    ¡°Wait, do you know where we¡¯re going?¡±

    ¡°No idea! But fortunately, it doesn¡¯t matter. Come!¡±

 Ancient Things - Chapter 34

    They ran for the rest of the day, taking regular breaks to eat sap and drink water and massage Dirt¡¯s mana vessel. Although he¡¯d felt filled up with mana at the start of the day, by the end of the day he felt even more filled up in the same amount of space. When he asked them what they were doing, the dryads simply said there were no words for the faculty they were helping him increase, but that it would benefit him. And it didn¡¯t hurt or seem dangerous, so he was happy to sit there and enjoy the pulsing vibrations of their magic.

    At the first hint of nightfall, they guided him to the nearest tree, a blank-looking girl with medium-length hair, and had him touch her root. As soon as he did, he felt himself whisked forward at incredible speed and deposited instantly in the dirt next to his house. Before he even knew she was there, Home gently took him in her arms and helped him lay down to fight the dizziness that they all expected, but it never came.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t get sick from it this time. Did you do something different, or was that me?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We took greater notice of the state of your anatomy than before,¡± said Home, stroking his hair. ¡°There is a system related to your hearing that regulates balance. Now we know its importance.¡±

    ¡°How does that work, exactly? How are you making me travel so fast?¡±

    ¡°We have long been able to transfer nutrients through our roots. We improved on the method to carry you.¡±

    ¡°Am I actually going through the roots? Do you make me really small?¡±

    Home was quiet for a moment, and since her tree was right there he could look at her mind. She was trying to find a way to explain something which to her was simple and obvious, like ¡®How do you walk?¡¯

    ¡°There is much to explain regarding connections, geometric progression, and other calculations, so for now I will simply say that it is magic.¡±

    Dirt snorted, amused. ¡°I guess that works.¡±

    The other dryads weren¡¯t coming this time, it seemed. It felt strange to be nearly alone again, after a full day spent in the middle of a crowd. Dirt relaxed, enjoying the feeling of Home¡¯s fingertips, the gentleness of her touch. How softly she held him. If human mothers cared for their young like wolves did, it must be something like this.

    Still, the day was over and night was coming and he found himself feeling restless. It had only been a couple days since he¡¯d seen Socks, but it felt like longer than that because so much had changed. And now that he had time to sit and think about it, that uneasy feeling he¡¯d had this morning had never really left.

    What if Socks was fighting for his life right now against something like that tentacle monster, or some sort of puppy-snatching bird from the sky, or¡­ other wolves. Enemy wolves. He had no idea and the more he thought about it, the worse things he imagined.

    ¡°When can I see Socks again?¡± he asked, trying not to sound as worried as he felt. ¡°Oh, is it a test that¡¯s threatening him? Something Mother had him do that¡¯s dangerous?¡±

    Home sighed, patting his forehead. ¡°I do not know when, dear Dirt, but he will only be vulnerable for a time. He will outgrow the threat. I can say that it is not a test.¡±

    ¡°Do you know what the threat is, though?¡±

    ¡°Only in part. It is something new to us. But the threat itself is not the knowledge that would put you in danger. There is a secret related to its intentions that we will not try to guess, in the interest of good relations.¡±

    ¡°I wish you could tell me more about it. I hate not knowing,¡± he said, his mood darkening. ¡°I¡¯m afraid, Home. I¡¯m scared I¡¯m gonna lose him.¡±

    -not so easy-

    Dirt jumped up so fast he almost brought Home to her feet with him. Had that been real, or did he imagine it?

    ¡°Socks?¡± he said aloud. Then in his mind, ¡°Socks?¡±

    -this far-

    ¡°Stay safe, Socks! I miss you!¡±

    -get stronger-

    Although he waited for more, straining his senses against the silence, no other words came. But those ones burned in Dirt¡¯s chest like fire.

    ¡°What happened, dear Dirt?¡± asked Home.

    ¡°I heard Socks just now.¡±

    ¡°Then I suppose he is getting stronger as well. Are you pleased, little Dirt?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡±

    Home went to sleep shortly after that. Dirt was too restless to lay down early, though. His mind swirled with conflict between his resolve to be the strongest human and his desire to sneak away and make sure Socks was really fine somehow. Now that all the dryads were asleep, he had nothing to do but sit around and fret until he was tired enough to pass out.

    He decided to eat a grub or two for variety, but no matter where he dug he couldn¡¯t find any. They had simply all vanished, even though he kept looking until it got so dark he was worried he might not find his way back. He went to sleep with nervous gratitude that the dryads were feeding him, because otherwise what would he eat? Maybe he could catch a bird?

    The next day was much like the last one except there were fewer dryads overall, and many of those came and went. In the afternoon they switched to playing a game of speed, racing around several trees in order to see who was the fastest. The dryads were often just a tiny bit faster, and it didn¡¯t take Dirt long to realize what they were doing. He beat them only once¡ªby acting tired halfway through, he got them to slow down just enough to pass them with a burst of speed at the end.

    On the third day of running, Dirt made it all the way to the edge of the forest, where the outer trees were half the size of the others, some even smaller. He stopped right at the edge of the sunlight, where it made a fuzzy boundary between day and shadow. It was the side of the forest with the grassy plains, and the bright sunlight reflecting off the pale fields hurt Dirt¡¯s eyes.

    Callius said, ¡°The ones growing out here enjoy the sunlight on their trunks. I think it sounds unpleasant. It dries us out.¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°I don¡¯t mind the sunlight much, but I like the forest better. It¡¯s too bright out there, and the sky is always¡­ too open.¡±

    Suddenly the dryad turned around to look past the twenty or so standing nearby. Dawn and Home were absent for now and Dirt hadn¡¯t noticed them leave.

    ¡°We found something! Come see it! Come on, Dirt,¡± said Callius, tugging Dirt¡¯s hand excitedly.

    They ran back into the forest, but didn¡¯t travel in a straight line. Callius led them from tree to tree, navigating in a way he could understand. Dirt saw it long before they got there¡ªa smudge of white against the dim horizon.

    It was a portion of a wall, that was all; a length about twenty paces long, pale yellow brick with pillars of white marble on both ends. It appeared to have been slowly sinking into the ground for many years, or perhaps the ground was growing up around it, because it was only a few inches taller than Dirt. The rest of the building was nowhere to be seen, presumably collapsed and long buried.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°What is it, Dirt?¡± asked Callius.

    ¡°It used to be part of a building. See here, where it¡¯s smooth, and then around this corner where it¡¯s jagged? The rest of it broke off and fell over. It¡¯s probably buried deep by now.¡±

    ¡°So, a house?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. But something like that. I¡¯m surprised there¡¯s only one. I bet there¡¯s all kinds of stuff buried here. This dirt must have been getting thicker and thicker this whole time.¡±

    ¡°Do you think humans made it?¡± asked Callius.

    Dirt said, ¡°Oh, of course. Humans made all kinds of stuff. There are whole cities where it¡¯s just buildings like this. I saw one with Socks and I can kind of remember living in them. Almost.¡±

    ¡°How did they shape the rock?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea. Maybe they looked around for ones that were already that shape,¡± said Dirt, even though that didn¡¯t seem likely.

    Callius sank into the ground so quick Dirt had to lean over the spot and look for a hole. There wasn¡¯t one. He popped up a moment later a short distance away and said, ¡°You¡¯re right. There¡¯s more, but it¡¯s about as deep down as you are tall. Perhaps we can dig it out another time. Someone just told me they found another one. Want to go see?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± said Dirt.

    In one spot, a sheepish girl showed them a half-buried basin, cracked down the middle. In another, a silent, half-formed dryad pointed them toward a row of pillars, which Dirt was certain lined a buried street. They found a hole in the ground, ten feet deep, that went to nothing, and a mound taller than Dirt that had nothing but gravel inside it.

    They never did find the temple, or if the dryads had found it, they weren¡¯t interested in taking him there. And that was probably for the best¡ªhe didn¡¯t ask about it because he wasn¡¯t sure he could resist the temptation to peek inside twice. Once had been hard enough.

    By the end of the day the forest seemed filled with old ruins, even though it still looked the same almost anywhere. And while Dirt wasn¡¯t sure he could find his way back to any of them, just knowing they were out there made the forest feel a lot more like the place he belonged than it had before. It had been a human place once, and he was a human; it was a wild place now, and he was wild, if anything. Everything man had built here was buried beneath the dirt, and Dirt walked on top of that.

    That night as he was drifting off to sleep, a sensation of pain from his collar to his groin entered his mind, accompanied by Socks saying -almost got me but I¡¯m safe.-

    Nothing more came, no matter how Dirt listened or called out the pup¡¯s name. Dirt woke four times that night, fleeing nightmares about teeth and claws rising up from the ground to bite his feet.

    The next day, a huge host of dryads had gathered again, as many as he¡¯d seen. Some were late and rose from the ground like something underneath was pushing them up.

    Home said, ¡°Listen well, little Dirt. The world of magic contains structures and shapes, and power given a shape and form can cause a thing to be real in the other worlds. To do a greater work of magic than run or jump, you must learn to shape mana. Your mana vessel guides¡ª¡°

    ¡°Home,¡± said Dirt, ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, and I know this is important, but I can¡¯t just sit around learning all day. I need to see Socks. I need to. He¡¯s hurt. Can you help me?¡±

    ¡°You should not be impatient, dear Dirt. Let the rhythm of time guide you along the natural course,¡± said Home. She continued, ¡°Your mana vessel guides the flow of power, and by shaping the vessel with your spirit and will, you can create a new shape or structure and cause a thing to be.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Home, I want to learn all this. I really, really do, and I¡¯m grateful that you¡¯re teaching me. But you are more patient than me because you¡¯re thousands of years old and I¡¯m only maybe twenty days old. I lost count. Can I please just go see him, and then come back? If Mother won¡¯t allow it, then maybe I can at least get close enough to talk. You could even drop me in front of the den with root travel, since that¡¯s how you got me here. Please?¡±

    Dawn went blank first, quickly followed by Home and several others. Dirt¡¯s heart leaped, knowing it meant they were asking Mother. He was sure of it. He waited, nervous energy filling him. He wanted to scream or jump or something but he didn¡¯t because he had to wait.

    When she retook control of her dryad, Dawn frowned, eyes full of pity. Before she even opened her mouth, Dirt said, ¡°Never mind. I can already guess the answer. Please don¡¯t even say it. Tell me later.¡±

    ¡°I am sorry, dear Dirt. I feel sad for pity¡¯s sake,¡± said Dawn, her voice filling with anguish.

    Dirt knew how to handle sadness better than she did, he realized. Better than any of them. What did they know of pain? Nothing. They¡¯d said so. He scowled, because now, on top of angry and nervous, he felt guilty.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry too, Dawn. I feel like I put you in a difficult position.¡±

    The poor dryad started wilting. All the little leaves that covered most of her torso shriveled and wilted and parts of her went stiff as if she¡¯d lost control. Other parts went limp, and it was a more pitiable sight than he was prepared to handle. It wasn¡¯t that she couldn¡¯t handle sadness that well¡ªshe truly had no defense against it. None.

    Dirt jumped forward and grabbed her in a hug, holding her as tight as he could.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be sad, my sweet little Dawn. My dear, precious Dawn, please don¡¯t be sad. I love you and I¡¯m sorry I made you sad.¡±

    The other dryads looked contrite, their eyes downcast and regretful. But Dirt also noticed they were standing back a bit, edging away slightly as if they feared whatever Dawn had was contagious.

    Dawn recovered after only a few moments. After she perked back up, Dirt released her and said, ¡°Do you feel better now?¡±

    ¡°Yes. That was more intense than I realized. Do you feel like that often? Do you feel that way now?¡± asked Dawn.

    ¡°No, I feel better now. Let¡¯s just forget it,¡± he said, hoping to avoid a relapse. ¡°I have so many friends here now, and I¡¯ll see Socks when Mother says it¡¯s right, no matter what I think about it. Home, would you continue?¡±

    He listened to Home¡¯s explanation of magic despite all his mental distractions, but at the end he could only remember bits and pieces. He got the general idea¡ªmagic took different shapes or forms, and those shapes caused an effect in one of the worlds, usually the physical. He had to exercise his will, which rose from his core and spirit, to shape his mana vessel and cause something to happen.

    Shaping mana for his body was easy, because his mana vessel was already in the right shape for that, just naturally. Running and jumping with magic was almost second nature to him, especially after his time with Socks.

    But when he tried to do more, to cause wind or lift something with his mind or the dozen other things the dryads came up with, it always fell apart. By the end of the day, Dirt was more frustrated and worn out than educated. The whole day had been a waste, and when he lay down early to sleep, mostly just to get some time to himself, he felt guilty for wasting it.

    -You have to learn, little Dirt. Pay more attention tomorrow.- The pup¡¯s voice in his mind was quiet and distant, but clear.

    ¡°Socks! I can hear you much better today. Can you hear me? Can we finally talk? I hope¡ª¡°

    -If you want to talk to me, you have to talk aloud. I can¡¯t see your thoughts from here. Say something, little Dirt.-

    ¡°I miss you!¡± he shouted. ¡°I¡¯m scared!¡±

    -I miss you, but I am not scared because I am a strong wolf. Day and night, I hide or fight alongside Father. We hunt and I learn. My enemy is wily and I am tired. I keep getting hurt. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re far away and safe, Dirt. Stay safe and learn. I can watch you with ghost sight, sometimes. We will talk each night if we can.-

    ¡°It¡¯s not the same,¡± said Dirt, frustrated to the point of tears. ¡°I want to hug you.¡±

    -I want to lick your face and make you giggle. That day will come again. Good night, little Dirt.-

    Enough of the pup¡¯s true emotion came through with his words to tell Dirt that Socks was bluffing, in part: he was scared. Socks was being hunted and there was no respite, no safety, despite being guarded by the strongest things that could possibly exist.

    Dirt cried for his friend, sobbing into the supple balls of fiber that comprised his bed, and for himself, who had to suffer far away, unable to help.

    The next day, Dirt grit his teeth and remembered what his real power was. Not muscle or claws or even his knife. Discipline and sincerity. That¡¯s what kept him alive and it¡¯s what he needed now. He needed to focus on what the incredibly patient dryads were trying to teach him, so he did.

    When they told him to picture wind with his pure will and not his imagination, he forced out every other thought. He refused to get tired or bored or distracted, but focused with all his might on the task. When they said to use that willpower to force his mana vessel into the shape of wind, he stood stern and unmoving, unflinching against repeated failure and frustration, turning down food and water until he got it right. Hour after hour his mind stood resolute like the stone wall that refused to fall down after millenia.

    Dirt only relented when he could tell the dryads were getting nervous. Near mid-day, he smiled and laughed and ate all the sap they gave him, and washed it down with plenty of water. They ran together and played, free and innocent and happy for a time. But as soon as he sensed the opportunity, he was right back at it, forcing his mana vessel and the power it contained into the shape of wind.

    In the mid-afternoon, he finally got it. A gust of wind arose from nowhere and shook the ferns as it blew forward. It traveled only thirty paces before it died and left the air calm and heavy again.

    The dryads cheered but he ignored them, except for a polite grin to let them know he noticed. Instead he did it again and again, a dozen more times, until his mind felt ragged and his mana vessel sore. Not strong winds, although he was sure he could make them stronger, but deliberate ones. Careful wind, disciplined, until he felt like he¡¯d mastered it.

    When he finally stopped, he was so mentally exhausted that he collapsed flat on the ground. Only then did he cheer, raising his arms to the green sky and howling like a wolf. The wind was his.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 35

    Dirt had two dreams that night. In the first, he and Socks played in the den, dreaming of home and simple things. Wolves of all ages came and went and greeted them with curious sniffs. When the dream suddenly cut off for no reason and Dirt woke with a start, he wondered if Socks had really been in that one, or if Dirt had just dreamed it.

    In the second dream, he was in a place of men. That realization almost shook him awake, but he managed to calm down and stay asleep. He stood on a handsome tiled floor with a pattern of concentric squares enclosing a potted plant in the middle. The walls were painted red, with faux pillars in the corners painted green and yellow.

    A cool breeze shook the curtains behind him, but he heard a rustling of something else moving and turned to greet her. She was beautiful, curved and graceful and feminine. Her shining brown hair was done up in curls with gold needles holding it in place and her dress of green and yellow danced like autumn leaves when she walked.

    She placed her arms around his neck and spoke, but he couldn¡¯t hear any words. No sound came out of her mouth at all, although her lips were moving. He tilted his head to listen and only a moment later the whole thing fell apart and cast him back into wakefulness. He lay stunned, heart beating mightily against his chest.

    It wasn¡¯t fear that kept him awake for half the night after that, though. It was pure shock. His mind spun with questions and there was no one to ask. Had he known her? Where was that, anyway? He kept picturing her, over and over, how she walked, how she looked at him and smiled.

    He pictured her in his mind as strongly as he could, but the longer he held the image the fuzzier it got. His memory kept trying to fill in missing details and after a while she started looking more and more like Home¡¯s dryad.

    ¡°No, no, no, no,¡± he whimpered frantically. ¡°Please, no, no, don¡¯t forget.¡±

    Dirt did his best to cement the real memory in his mind and then rolled over and fell asleep before he could ruin it any more than he already had.

    He met the morning with wistful melancholy. He¡¯d forgotten more of her during the night and now he couldn¡¯t even put a good picture together. He ate his sap huddled up in a corner, knees folded against his chest like he was hiding from something.

    He stayed that way for too long, head tilted to rest against the wall. He wanted to feel nostalgia, to remember warmly things that no longer were, but instead he just felt regret. He¡¯d forgotten anything he could be nostalgic about and the fading memory of a dream wasn¡¯t enough to sustain him.

    Home peeked her head in a window and asked, ¡°Dear Dirt, are you unwell?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said, sighing to himself. Well, if he stayed like this any longer he¡¯d have to explain why he felt that way, and then they¡¯d try to help, and the Gods only knew what they might try. He rose to his feet and made himself smile.

    ¡°Open,¡± he told the doorway. He really had waited too long¡ªthe fog was already fading. No wonder they were concerned.

    Home and Dawn both hugged him at once, one on each side. Callius stepped up and kissed him on the cheek, which surprised Dirt since he¡¯d forgotten kisses existed until now. But then Callius licked him across his whole face and barked like a wolf and ran away laughing. The dryad¡¯s tongue was wet and soft and felt almost¡ªalmost¡ªlike flesh.

    Shrieking with indignation, Dirt pulled away from the girls and rushed after him, determined to grab him and give him the same treatment.

    The chase was on. Callius didn¡¯t simply run, either¡ªhe leaped over roots or ran all the way up them and jumped off. Sometimes he turned sharply and tried to hide. It wasn¡¯t exactly a fair chase, since Callius could probably run plenty faster than he had so far. And probably faster than Socks, too, since the trees had ridiculous amounts of mana inside them. But Dirt wasn¡¯t about to give up.

    Callius ran straight for a tree and turned at the last moment to go around it, and Dirt went the other direction. They both hid from each other, but Dirt hid better, even keeping the ferns from noticing him by applying gentle pressure to their thoughts. Callius came looking for him, trying to sneak, but Dirt spotted him first.

    Dirt jumped out of the ferns, caught the dryad around the shoulders, and pulled him down for a tackle. Then Dirt licked his face and barked like a wolf and jumped away. He shouted ¡°Now get somebody else!¡± as he ran, halfway between a laugh and a scream, but in vain. Callius had only one target and he hit Dirt from behind before he even made it to the next tree.

    The dryad licked Dirt¡¯s face, despite his squirming to get away, and then went bark bark bark HOOOOOWL. He got up and ran again.

    Dirt rolled and stood, brushed off the clumps of black earth he¡¯d collected, and gave chase. But before he made it five steps someone hit him from the side, knocking him clear off his feet.

    Dawn. Dawn had come out of nowhere and absolutely crushed him. For a brief moment, Dirt¡¯s heart filled with terror that she¡¯d broken all his bones again, but he was fine. She held him down, trying to figure out what to do with him. ¡°I¡¯m not a wolf,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m a bird!¡±

    Then she pinched him a bunch of times and leaped into the air, flapping her arms like wings.

    ¡°How do you know about birds?¡± he shouted, but she just laughed and ran as soon as she landed. Of course she knew about birds, though. She was a tree. There were probably some birds nearby right now, if he looked carefully.

    Dirt gave up on Callius and chased her instead, but he had to run while trying to watch for more incoming dryads. He was certain others were on their way. Home, possibly, and that girl with the round face, or the curly-haired one. They seemed the type. Most likely there were dozens out there, waiting for their chance.

    Dawn was distracted by someone else running toward her and a short moment of indecision was all Dirt needed. He caught her from behind, but she almost slipped away until he got a hand around her collarbone that spun her back around.

    He jumped on her and said, ¡°I¡¯m still a wolf!¡± Then he howled, licked her face, and ran away as fast as he could.

    The rest of the morning, Dirt got the worst of it, but he still managed to catch a bunch of them. Dawn was the only bird¡ªthe rest wanted to be wolves, and some even ran on all fours in a way he couldn¡¯t imitate. He suspected they were shortening their legs to make it easier.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Dirt ate his lunchtime sap slowly, enjoying getting a chance to rest. It was fun chasing dryads all over, but it turned out getting knocked over a hundred times was tiring. He wished he¡¯d taken some toys from the dead bodies in that city to play with, since he didn¡¯t think he needed to get worn out every single minute of the day. But he needed the right kind¡ªdolls of wolves and boys and other fun things. The city was too far from here and he didn¡¯t know where to find it anyway, so he couldn¡¯t just go look. How else was he supposed to get any?

    After making sure Dirt ate slightly more sap than he wanted, Callius said, ¡°Okay, Dirt, we¡¯re going to start hitting you a little harder so you can practice protecting yourself with mana. Do you think you can figure it out?¡±

    Dirt realized he did have one way to get the toys he wanted¡ªmake them. He jumped to his feet in excitement and said, ¡°I probably can, but do you know what? I want to shape wood instead. Can I learn that today? Home said I¡¯d learn someday. I promise not to use my knife on you.¡±

    The dryads all paused, but they weren¡¯t frozen. They weren¡¯t thinking. They looked nervous.

    ¡°Come on, please?¡±

    Callius dug in the dirt with his toe. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re ready for that?¡±

    ¡°I just want to shape little things, like maybe this big,¡± said Dirt, holding his hands about eight inches apart. ¡°Please?¡±

    The boy sighed. ¡°Well, I suppose it¡¯s only fair. Come on.¡± He held out his hand. Dirt took it and the instant their fingers touched, Dirt was yanked through the roots and tossed into the ground under a tree he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d seen before.

    He picked himself up and put his hands on his knees until he was sure he wasn¡¯t going to get sick or dizzy again. After a moment, he decided he was fine and stood up the rest of the way.

    No other dryads had come¡ªit was just him and Callius.

    Callius pointed at the tree and said, ¡°This is me. If you¡¯re wondering where all the others are, everyone wanted to watch in the normal way so they aren¡¯t coming. So here we are. Don¡¯t mess me up too much.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m going to learn on you?¡±

    ¡°What did you expect?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t really know. But why you and not Home where my house is?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯m better at it than anyone else,¡± said Callius. He did a graceful backwards cartwheel and when he landed, he wasn¡¯t a boy anymore¡ªhe was a wolf, with long gangly legs and tiny green leaves instead of fur. Then he stood on his hind legs and was a boy again, with green leaves from waist to knees like he¡¯d had before.

    ¡°Wow,¡± said Dirt, unsure what else to say. The whole thing had been one seamless motion, perfectly balanced. An exquisite display of grace and control. Truthfully, he wanted to see it again but felt foolish asking. So instead he asked, ¡°So if you¡¯re that good, how come you still cover a third of yourself with the little leaves?¡±

    The dryad said, ¡°Oh, I thought we told you once already. Watch my mind and you¡¯ll see.¡±

    Dirt looked at Callius¡¯ mind and was reminded that the boy in front of him was merely a doll used by an ancient, mighty being to run around in, and not the being himself. The tree¡¯s mind was immense and too complicated to comprehend. Except the portion that controlled the dryad¡ªthat was familiar. Normal sights and sounds and even thoughts with words, sometimes.

    That portion grew as Callius withdrew the little green leaves that covered him from waist to knees and replaced them with supple gray bark-flesh, making him fully human from head to toes. Dirt noticed peach fuzz on the dryad¡¯s arms and cheeks and ears. Even the eyes grew moist and lost that glassy character they had.

    The effect was unexpected. Callius was so perfectly human now that Dirt wasn¡¯t even sure he was still looking at a dryad and not a gray-skinned boy his own age.

    And just as surprising was how much extra effort it took to finish the body. It took up a third again as much space in Callius¡¯ mind, if not more.

    ¡°See? It¡¯s a lot more work. And besides that, watch closely,¡± said Callius. He reverted back to how he was before, the fur of tiny green leaves returning. This time, Dirt noticed a bundle of new sensory information in the tree-based part of the mind.

    ¡°Oh! You¡¯re using the leaves to sense the air, aren¡¯t you? Like with your real leaves?¡±

    ¡°Yep!¡±

    ¡°I never noticed that before.¡±

    ¡°Nope!¡±

    ¡°How come you do that?¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s too weird not to. How can you even tell what anything is?¡±

    Dirt thought about that for a moment, remembering bits and pieces of the tree-dream.

    ¡°Look at my mind, friend Dirt. Remember this word. It¡¯s a word that means ¡®grow and change¡¯, except that a tree will understand it. Are you looking?¡± said Callius.

    Dirt peered at the tree¡¯s mind and found the thought, which was held isolated from the rest to make it easy to find. Like their real names or the words he used to make the ferns bend out of the way, the ¡®word¡¯ was a complex structure that almost seemed more like a set of patterns than the thoughts Dirt was used to.

    Once he was fairly certain he had it down, he asked, ¡°What do I do with it?¡±

    Callius grit his teeth and looked as nervous as possible. ¡°Put your hand on my root. There¡¯s fine. Now what you¡¯re going to do, is¡­ talk to the wood there, with your mana body, using that word. Not with your mind. Let your mana vessel take the shape of the change you want to cause, and then let it interact with some of my wood. Beyond that, I¡¯m not sure I can explain, so you¡¯ll have to figure it out.¡±

    Dirt asked, ¡°Is this going to hurt?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t feel pain.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you acting so nervous?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d answer but I don¡¯t want to give you any ideas. And try not to be nervous yourself, or the result might not be what you wanted.¡±

    The forest was silent before this moment, just as pleasantly dim with shadow, just as empty and peaceful and eternal as always, but to Dirt¡¯s mind, it suddenly got a lot quieter. The forest held its breath, as if everything in here was waiting for him. And it probably was, maybe even the ferns.

    Dirt willed his mind to quiet down. He placed his hand on the smooth gray root and pictured the word ¡®grow¡¯, but not in his mind, or in the dream, but rather, with that part of him that was deeper than emotion.

    It worked on the very first try. A lump formed under his hand and lifted it away, first one inch thick, then two. Dirt forced any thought of triumph or rejoicing from his mind and steeled himself even further. Every thought was quieted and schooled into submission, stepping aside to let his pure will manifest. The wood responded eagerly to his command; not Callius, not even any significant part of him. Just this wood right here, this small hand-shaped amount on the outside.

    Dirt made it grow beneath his hand, and he brought his other hand to reshape the cylinder and give it a head, then arms, then split it to make legs. Finally, under his fingertips, feet emerged, and beneath those the wood narrowed sharply until it simply split off and came away in his hands.

    The task complete, his state of focus faded in a way that felt like waking up, much more notable than making magical wind yesterday, and he looked at what he held.

    It was exactly what he wanted¡ªa little wooden replica of a human, no bigger than his forearm. It was even rougher than Home¡¯s first dryad, without any joints, but it was perfect anyway. It almost came alive in his hands as he started thinking of the things he could do with it, of the adventures he could imagine.

    ¡°No one expected that to work, friend Dirt,¡± said Callius, coolly impressed. He rubbed the spot where Dirt had been working and smoothed it out.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad it did. Look, Callius. It¡¯s a toy person. I¡¯ll make some more, and then I¡¯ll be this and we can play with them,¡± said Dirt. He was so excited it was almost like dreaming. Infinite worlds of possibility swirled around him.

    ¡°Go ahead. Make as many as you want.¡±

    Dirt made a wolf and it was even easier than the human. Then he made some goblins, and even a dryad or two, which were only different by being skinnier than the human, since he had to tell them apart somehow. Slipping into that state of focus, of will without thought, got easier and easier each time. By the time he made the fifth goblin, he could think normal thoughts while doing it.

    Callius said, ¡°That was supposed to be much harder than you¡¯re making it look.¡±

    ¡°I had a good teacher.¡±

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t teach you this.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Dirt, but he was barely listening. He was too busy arranging his ten dolls, preparing them to be properly played with.

    ¡°This is wisdom, friend Dirt, and it is hard won, even for us whose nature is stronger in the world of magic than yours.¡±

    ¡°Callius, I love you and I¡¯m interested in hearing that sometime but right now, I have to play with these. I¡¯ll be the human. Here, you can be the wolf, and we¡¯ll go fight these goblins!¡±

 Ancient Things - Chapter 36

    Callius took the rough wooden wolf figurine and held it in both hands, clearly unsure what to do with it. Dirt knelt and hid a couple goblins a few feet away behind some dipping fern fronds.

    ¡°Come on, wolf!¡± said Dirt, planting the feet of his human in the ground. ¡°Let¡¯s see what¡¯s over here.¡±

    It took a few minutes for Callius to get the idea and Dirt had to do most of the talking at the start, but before long he figured it out. They had all sorts of adventures, which were not limited to fighting goblins. Sometimes they explored buildings large and small or fought creatures that Dirt could only name, like ¡°elephant¡± or ¡°tiger.¡± Callius would freeze for a moment and come back ready to mimic them, at least to the degree possible with the one animal to use.

    Other dryads slipped out of the ferns to watch, and sometimes he could get one to be a goblin or a toy dryad, but they would only play for a few moments before stepping away again. Home and Dawn didn¡¯t show up, but Dirt was having so much fun he hardly noticed.

    When Callius suddenly shrank himself to the size of the toys and started walking among them, Dirt laughed aloud and set up the biggest battle yet¡ªdryad versus everything else, including the toy dryads.

    Callius won, because each time he punched or kicked a toy it¡¯d go flying off into the ferns. The first time it happened, he glanced up at Dirt apologetically, but it had been a goblin so Dirt didn¡¯t care. Callius was a little more gentle with the next ones, but they still ended up losing another one, and one dryad.

    They played long into the afternoon, breaking only when it was time for Dirt to eat again. Dirt sat and gazed inward to watch the world of the toys receding from his mind. What a curious thing, that he could be so captivated. Did the wolves play games like that too? Imagination? Or did they only wrestle and race around?

    Callius returned to normal size and sat next to Dirt, where he started picking up clumps of soil with his toes and flinging them away. ¡°Would you call this a footful of dirt, friend Dirt?¡± asked the dryad, tossing another clump with his toes. ¡°Or is it still a handful?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a good question. I guess it¡¯s a footful, because a handful is bigger. But I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a word,¡± said Dirt, taking another bite and chewing slowly while it stuck to all his teeth.

    ¡°How would you know?¡±

    ¡°I know all the words, I just don¡¯t know what most of them mean,¡± said Dirt, around his mouthful.

    ¡°If footful isn¡¯t a word, does that mean I¡¯m the first person who ever did this?¡± asked Callius, tossing a lumpy little cylinder of black dirt high into the air, where it broke apart.

    ¡°Probably not.¡±

    ¡°How can it not have a word, then?¡±

    ¡°Maybe it wasn¡¯t a useful thing to measure so no one made a word for it.¡±

    ¡°Why is a handful useful but not a footful?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever picked anything up with my feet like that,¡± said Dirt. Then he had to try, of course, and squeezed a little clump of the rich black earth with his toes and tossed it forward. It didn¡¯t go very far, so he did it again and again.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t pick things up with your toes, what are they for?¡± asked Callius.

    ¡°So you can feel what you¡¯re walking on, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you feel with the rest of your foot?¡±

    ¡°I bet you already know about toes but you¡¯re teasing me.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± said Callius, suppressing a faint grin. ¡°What do you think about this?¡±

    The dryad lifted his feet in the air and his toes grew to finger length. He deftly picked up a big clump of earth with them and formed it into a tight ball, which he tossed back and forth from foot to foot.

    ¡°I think,¡± said Dirt, taking another bite around a smile of his own, ¡°that if I could change my shape, I still wouldn¡¯t do that.¡±

    Callius picked up the boy figurine and stood up. He stepped a short distance back and held it up, comparing it to the real Dirt. It writhed and shook as the dryad reformed it, and when Callius gave it back to him, it was a perfect likeness.

    Or rather, it was as close as Dirt could expect. He¡¯d seen himself faintly once in a reflection, and other than that, only in Socks¡¯ mind. The pup¡¯s mental images weren¡¯t exactly clear and thorough, either. Only things that were moving were easy to see.

    ¡°Thanks!¡± said Dirt, pleased. It made all the rest of the toys look pathetic in comparison, but it was a treasure nonetheless. ¡°Can you do you?¡± he said, handing a toy dryad to Callius.

    ¡°How about you do it? A little more practice would be good for you.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but when I give up, will you finish it?¡±

    ¡°Nope!¡±

    Dirt faked a scowl at the grinning Callius, which he could only maintain for about one second. As soon as he¡¯d finished off his sap, Callius gave him some water in his cupped hands, and then he got to work reshaping the toy dryad.

    It was much harder than he expected, and not even because using magic like that took a lot of concentration and willpower. Dirt discovered that he didn¡¯t see things in as much detail as he thought he did. So much of the boy¡¯s form was as good as invisible until he looked at it deliberately, from the shape of individual muscles to the countless lengths and proportions. He gave up before he was quite satisfied because his brain felt like it was going to start dripping out his ears if he mashed it up any harder.

    Callius took it and looked it over. ¡°Wow, this is incredible! It¡¯s perfect!¡±

    Dirt looked up to find that Callius had readjusted his appearance to match the doll, with huge crooked eyes and uneven shoulders and arms thicker than a goblin¡¯s. The dryad tried to dance and immediately fell over, since he only had a knee on one leg.

    ¡°It¡¯s just like me! How did you do that on your first try?¡± called Callius from the ground.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but if I could change my shape, I wouldn¡¯t do that either,¡± said Dirt, trying and failing to suppress a giggle.

    ¡°What do you mean? This is how I always looked!¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ve never been more handsome than right now.¡±

    That got a good laugh out of Callius, which Dirt found infectious. Callius stood somehow and tried to dance again, pivoting on his kneeless leg and gracefully waving his goblin arms around. Dirt laughed until his stomach hurt.

    Soon Callius turned himself back to normal, to Dirt¡¯s relief, and for the next little while Dirt worked on his toys. None of them got anything like what Callius had done, but at least it was easier to tell what they were supposed to be. And there was nothing to keep him from improving them further.

    They added a house like Dirt¡¯s and played in and around that. Then Dirt used his magic to readjust the building into other shapes, which were mostly what he imagined the ruined buildings would look like if they were still standing.

    By the end, Dirt got so confident that he tried to recreate that temple, the one hidden here in the forest, from memory. It came out pretty good, Dirt thought, and even included the pillars and part of the collapsed roof.

    ¡°Is that what I think it is?¡± asked Callius when he rolled over from juggling toy goblins with his feet. ¡°When did you see that place?¡±

    ¡°Socks took me there. I bet I mentioned it before, but there was clean water and a road leading to it. Mother said not to go in, though, so we didn¡¯t,¡± said Dirt, placing the toy Dirt in front of the empty doorway.

    ¡°We can¡¯t get close to it and no one knows why,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°Really? How close can you get? We went right up to the doorway here and looked inside,¡± said Dirt, pointing at his wooden model. ¡°It was too dark to see in there but I think Socks said he smelled something.¡±

    ¡°I can show you, if you promise to stay out of trouble.¡±

    ¡°Did the Mother of Wolves tell you anything about it?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°No,¡± said Callius, standing up and finally making his toes the right length again. Now they looked all stubby and useless, which bothered Dirt somehow. ¡°She hasn¡¯t spoken with us since helping you get mana the other day.¡±

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Maybe Dawn can ask her?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. She¡¯s playing with the elementals today, but I¡¯ll ask her later.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what are elementals?¡± asked Dirt. ¡°And why haven¡¯t I met one?¡±

    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re not hiding them from you, friend Dirt. They just have almost no presence in the physical. They live in the magic world, and they are great fun,¡± said Callius, nonchalantly walking toward his tree.

    Dirt followed and asked, ¡°Only the magic world?¡±

    ¡°And the dream, and spirit. They¡¯re alive. They¡¯re just not physical. Are you ready?¡± asked Callius, resting one hand on his root.

    Dirt took a long, slow breath to prepare himself. ¡°Wait! I want¡­ hold on.¡± He ran back over to the toys and took the boy, the wolf, and the poor imitation of Callius. ¡°I want to keep at least these ones. Can you send them to my house with Home?¡±

    ¡°Sure can. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Callius reached out and grabbed Dirt¡¯s wrist and for the space of a heartbeat, Dirt was hurtling forward at impossible speed, bouncing left and right too quickly to react to. The root travel dropped him on his feet, but he was still reacting to moving forward and leaned backward to correct himself, causing him to fall hard onto his bottom.

    Fortunately the ground was soft. He went to get back up and realized his hands were empty and his toys were nowhere to be seen. Callius grabbed Dirt¡¯s wrist again and helped him to his feet.

    ¡°Hold on,¡± said Dirt, resting his hands on his knees to make sure he wasn¡¯t going to get dizzy again. But like last time, he felt fine, other than a sense of being shaken way too hard. ¡°Okay, I guess I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s head over.¡±

    ¡°Who is this? Have I met this tree before?¡± Dirt asked, looking up.

    ¡°No, he was one of the later ones. And he doesn¡¯t want to make any dryads right now because of what keeps happening to them.¡±

    Dirt sent the tree a mental sensation of gratitude, but before he could converse much with it, Callius started walking out into the ferns.

    They had to get far enough away from the tree trunk to see over the roots, but once they could, Dirt quickly spotted the ruined temple in the direct center of an open space between trees, a couple hundred paces from any of them. It was strange seeing it again, after so many littler ones.

    The temple rose high above the ferns, compared to the other ruins. Nothing like a tree, but taller than any of the ruins from the city. It looked majestic here, solid and stately, a thing of men standing out starkly in such a wild place.

    ¡°If my dryad stops working, then don¡¯t worry, because I¡¯ll make another one and send it as soon as I can. It only takes me a moment. I just don¡¯t want you to be scared if it happens,¡± said Callius, unconcerned.

    ¡°Well, now I¡¯m worried, because your dryads stop working all the time when you decide to think hard about something.¡±

    ¡°Do they?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°Then never mind,¡± said Callius.

    Dirt frowned at that, but Callius never slowed down and they were getting close. There was a pile of wood ahead, all logs of gray bark the same color as the trees, but¡­

    No, not a pile of wood. A pile of dead dryads, thirty paces ahead. Twenty or more, strewn all over, with a pile of them at least five deep just rising out of the ferns.

    Dirt froze in his footsteps and felt his blood run cold. Dread filled him, serious dread, and his heart raced faster than his eyes as they scanned for the threat.

    The temple path was just beyond the pile of dryads, and a short distance down it reposed the old temple. It seemed taller than he remembered, the opening of the doorway blacker. It had been a calm place before, restful and mysterious. The pile of corpses had changed the ambiance considerably.

    ¡°This is as close as I get,¡± said Callius, stopping in his tracks.

    ¡°What¡­ happened to them?¡± asked Dirt, his mouth dry.

    ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it looks. We just lose our connection if we go much farther than this.¡±

    ¡°So the trees aren¡¯t hurt? They¡¯re fine?¡± asked Dirt, looking up nervously for dead or falling leaves. One of them dying was a horror too great to contemplate. He¡¯d rather see a thousand dead human skeletons than one dead, decaying tree.

    ¡°They¡¯re annoyed, but that¡¯s all.¡±

    Dirt pushed away his dread, since there was nothing around that looked like a threat and it wasn¡¯t a pleasant thing to feel. He walked ahead, leaving Callius behind, and approached the corpse pile. From up close, it looked more like wooden figurines than dead children, since they lost all suppleness in their joints and skin. Their glassy eyes contained no hint of a spark and stood in emotionless, unmoving faces.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going in, but I want to get a drink,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    He stepped over the farthest corpse and onto the stone pathway, on the far end where it emerged from the ground. There was probably more of it buried underneath, but that knowledge wasn¡¯t exactly useful. He enjoyed how cool the stone felt under his feet, entirely different from the warm stone of the city plaza, out in the sunlight.

    Dirt passed the broken cistern with its reeking green water and made his way to the good one, cracked and dripping out the side. He was relieved to see the water was clean again¡ªthe dirt he¡¯d left behind last time he drank here must have all washed out. He cupped his hands and drank, refreshed. The water was cooler than what the dryads gave him, almost cold, and it was more pleasant to drink.

    Maybe he should make the temple his home, and then the dryads really would have to leave him alone when he wanted.

    Which, now that he thought about it, wasn¡¯t often. And who knew what sorts of things might come into his dreams if he lived here? It probably wouldn¡¯t be Socks or Home.

    Dirt looked at the temple, watching the doorway intently for any movement. Was there a creature in there, he wondered? Or was it something else, something that was a threat to wonderful things like dryads and wolves, but not humans? Humans made this place after all. Maybe there was a god in there.

    Now that was not a pleasant thought. The sacrilege from under the city came back into his mind, that injured and suffering statue, fallen over into a heap of dead humans. If there was something like that in there, then he definitely didn¡¯t want to see it.

    He watched the doorway and did his best to fight his growing curiosity. What could be in there that made dryads stop working?

    Dirt resolutely turned around and started heading back to Callius. Best not to find out without at least talking to Socks after getting him to ask Mother.

    ¡°Do you think anyone will want these back?¡± asked Dirt, calling out over the dryad pile.

    ¡°Maybe! Bring one!¡±

    Dirt had to strengthen his body with mana, since it turned out they were a lot heavier when a tree wasn¡¯t puppeting them, but he managed to pick one up. Not only was it heavy, but it was awkward, since all the arms and legs just froze in place and didn¡¯t bend at all.

    By the time he got back to Callius, it was starting to get more limber, which was unpleasant. He tried to set it down carefully, but mostly just dropped it.

    ¡°Get that one there,¡± said Callius, pointing at one of the closer ones.

    Dirt retrieved it and no sooner had he put it down than it sprang to life, standing and brushing clumps of earth out of its leaf-fur.

    ¡°That¡¯s him,¡± said Callius, pointing at the tree they¡¯d come from.

    ¡°Hello, friend Dirt,¡± said the newcomer, his face mostly expressionless. He almost looked like he was sleeping, since so little of him moved.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him,¡± said Callius. ¡°He hasn¡¯t had much time to practice yet.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s fine. It¡¯s nice to meet you. I¡¯m going to get a few more. Do you need any more of yours?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°No,¡± he said.

    ¡°Okay,¡± said Dirt. He went back and looked around for one that wasn¡¯t that particular tree, but nine of ten were. No wonder he¡¯d gotten annoyed and given up. Dirt found two different girls and carried them out, then went back and looked around for any more.

    Dirt stepped backward, then again, before he realized what he was doing. He felt off-balance, like he was leaning the wrong direction and had to keep moving to correct himself. Backward, toward the temple. Another step.

    ¡°What?¡± he asked aloud. There was a slight tug, something pulling on him; not a suggestion but a real force. Gentle, but insistent. It reminded him of how Socks picked him up. He was not imagining it.

    ¡°Something¡¯s pulling me!¡± he screamed. Dirt filled himself with mana and tried to resist, to walk forward out of its grasp, but the harder he pushed the stronger it got. ¡°Help!¡±

    Callius stepped back three paces, then shot forward at incredible speed, running fast as a wolf. In an instant, he picked Dirt up and tossed him forward as hard as he could, so hard the dryad¡¯s hands left bruises on Dirt¡¯s upper thigh and armpit.

    It almost worked. Dirt hurtled through the air, but his forward progress slowed to a halt and Dirt fell straight down, where he dug into the ground with both feet and hands, trying to hold himself in place against the force pulling him backward.

    Callius¡¯ dryad toppled over, inert. ¡°Callius!¡± Dirt screamed anyway, panicking.

    The force pulled him backward, causing him to dig deep furrows in the ground. He uprooted ferns and collected them in a big pile that he dragged along with him.

    Dirt looked all around for minds, hoping to see what was pulling him, but there was nothing around but trees and ferns, and some insects if he looked really closely. Nothing like the half-dead mind of the tentacle monster, nothing to tell him what was going on.

    When the thing pulled him all the way back to Callius¡¯ dryad, Dirt grabbed it with one hand and reformed the arm into a hasty spike, which he slammed into the ground. Finally, he stopped moving back. He shaped more of Callius into spikes, growing him all out of shape into something that his mind called a ¡°plow¡±. Dirt dug in with all his strength.

    The thing kept pulling, slowly increasing the pressure. Dirt filled himself with mana and strengthened himself as strongly as he ever had before. Power sparked and buzzed in him, filling him with glory and leaving him feeling scalded on the inside. He strengthened his muscles and his creaking bones, holding himself in place as hard as he could.

    ¡°Help!¡± he shouted. He couldn¡¯t look around without changing his posture, and that¡¯d let it pull him loose.

    A vine slapped down onto his wrist and started curling around his body, winding under his armpits and circled down his chest. It wound under his groin and down one of his legs, and once he was solidly bound by it, it pulled.

    Dirt looked up and saw a brand new Callius with one arm transformed into a bundle of vines that extended forward. Other dryads had gathered and were holding him in place. The vines tighted again and pulled Dirt forward, straining against the ever-increasing force.

    ¡°Strengthen your body against injury!¡± shouted Dawn, pacing distraught at the edge of the kill zone.

    He tried, telling the mana inside himself to stop making him stronger and start making him tougher instead. The vines pulled him even harder, and bit by bit he began moving forward.

    The strain was incredible. He could feel his guts twisting, his joints trying to come apart. Dirt focused on calming his mind and directing the mana with his will, making it strengthen his skin to keep it from tearing, strengthen his intestines to keep them from splitting open inside him.

    Inch by painful, desperate, inch, Dirt moved forward. He heard the vines creaking against the strain and he could feel Callius¡¯ resolve through them, feel the dawning fear the dryad could scarcely understand.

    Something clacked gently along the stone pathway, walking in his direction.

    He turned back to see a human skeleton wearing a robe of gold and a head-dress of golden leaves, eyes burning with blue flames that left trails in the air as it walked up the stone pathway toward him.

    Dirt screamed with all his might, over and over, unable to do anything but experience abject terror.

    It reached him and brushed a fingertip of bone along his flesh. Dirt screamed even harder, so hard it hurt his chest and throat.

    The walking skeleton stepped two paces past Dirt, reached down to the vines that struggled desperately to save him, and severed them with a flick of its finger.

    Dirt hurtled helplessly across the stone pathway and into the blackness of the ruined temple.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 37

    Darkness closed around Dirt as he receded farther into the temple, leaving him blind. All he could see was the outline of the doorway, the dim light from its green outline illuminating only the first few feet of stone inside. The rest of the temple interior was a complete mystery.

    The skeleton passed through the doorway, walking calmly. The blue fire in its eyes glowed against the black as it walked straight toward him, flames drifting left or right with its footsteps.

    Dirt¡¯s screams caught in his throat, where the terror roiling inside him choked him like fingers squeezing his neck.

    The blue fires stopped a few feet in front of him and their light illuminated the skeleton¡¯s face and chest. The pale white bone and golden robes lost their color even as they filled his vision, limned in perfect darkness everywhere else.

    Dirt whimpered through clenched teeth and let out a squirt of urine. He was so scared it felt like pain inside him and his mind could only barely process what was going on. ¡°Save me,¡± he moaned, but the muscles in his mouth were too frozen to pronounce the words correctly.

    The skeleton reached forward and traced its finger across his chest, so hard it left a stinging line of pain. It gripped his face, squeezing his cheeks with bony fingers that dug into the clenched muscles of his jaw. It turned his head, looking at his face from different angles. It released him and lowered its arms, then just stood there watching him. The blue flames of its eyes flickered and danced as it stared, unblinking.

    It had no real face. That was the worst part of its silent, unmoving stare. It had no expression, nothing to indicate what it thought or wanted. Dirt had no idea if it was driven by curiosity or hatred. Or perhaps hunger. How could he tell?

    ¡°Please let me go,¡± he begged. He could hardly speak.

    The skeleton didn¡¯t react. It didn¡¯t twitch or tilt its head or anything at all. Just remained perfectly still, like the dead thing that it was.

    ¡°Callius, Socks, Mother, anyone,¡± Dirt whispered. He struggled against the force that held him and only succeeded in loosening the vines, which began to sag and unwind and fall off him. They¡¯d been so tight in some places he was sure he had bruises.

    The skeleton turned and walked away. Dirt¡¯s eyes struggled again to get used to the darkness but as they did, he began to see parts of the temple¡¯s interior as the skeleton¡¯s gaze fell on them. Here, a collapsed pillar that had a statue carved into the front half, no longer identifiable. There, a standing wooden chair next to two broken ones. The ground was littered with debris; shattered bits of stone, traces of old dirt and grime; decayed things he couldn¡¯t identify. Trails of bare stone told him that the skeleton walked regularly in this place, although the air was so still and dead that Dirt didn¡¯t think wind ever came in to blow things around.

    It stopped in front of a wide altar, a huge rectangular stone carved along all the front and sides with patterns and figures only barely visible in the gloom. The top of the altar was littered with old scrolls, alongside countless implements that Dirt recognized¡ªa decanter for sacred oil, a ritual athame, precious gemstones, chalk, figurines of gods and spirits, sheets of lead and a stylus, all carefully arranged in perfect order. There were even fruits, so decayed and ancient that the gentlest touch would turn them to powder.

    ¡°What do you want with me?!¡± shouted Dirt, finally able to get a little control of himself.

    The skeleton ignored him. It carefully opened a wide scroll, gently winding and winding the ancient paper from reel to reel until it found the section it wanted. Dirt could barely make out complex shapes and symbols, all magical in nature. He knew that too, somehow. He must have known human magic once, in the ancient life he¡¯d lost.

    A massive boom echoed through the temple, so loud it left Dirt¡¯s ears ringing. The very stones shook as bits of old mortar turned to sand and drifted down in quiet streams. The skeleton raised its head from its reading and turned its gaze out the doorway. It rolled the scroll back together and lifted the athame. The knife¡¯s blade curved upward, sinuous like a snake and long as Dirt¡¯s forearm. The skeleton lifted a golden wine-cup with the other hand and turned toward him.

    ¡°No!¡± Dirt shouted, struggling as hard as he could against the invisible hand that held him. The skeleton stepped in his direction, knife at the ready and leaving no mystery what was about to happen. Dirt forced his mind to calm down, forced his body to relax, forced himself to inhale mana. His inner self clashed violently against his physical reactions, the terror and hesitation and desire to flee fighting his own will. But it was overcome or die, and Dirt overcame.

    He inhaled mana, almost surprised to find he could. With exactly three seconds to figure out how to strengthen his body against injury, Dirt tried to make his skin like wood or stone, strengthening it like he strengthened his muscles for a jump.

    The skeleton held the golden cup against Dirt¡¯s chest and scored the blade along his skin. The cut was subtle, far harder to feel and resist with mana than a punch or kick, but Dirt set his entire being to the task. The skeleton pressed harder and harder and Dirt¡¯s will resisted, rising from that place within him deeper than thought.

    The ritual knife lowered unbloodied and Dirt breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He could survive this. He just had to keep all his blood in, and fight or distract it long enough to run out. And figure out how to get down from hovering in the air.

    ¡°Just tell me what you want,¡± said Dirt, his voice shaky and trembling. ¡°Maybe I can help.¡±

    It didn¡¯t react. When it wasn¡¯t moving, its perfect stillness made it seem like Dirt had imagined the whole thing, like it had never moved at all. The flames in its eyes were just lamplights, its robe just a curtain in a room with no wind.

    The skeleton waited and stared longer than a human would. Dirt could feel that inhumanity, feel how wrong it was. Fear and revulsion melted together inside him to form something that he could only process as suffering, and still it watched, unmoving, unblinking, only an arm¡¯s reach away.

    Another boom shook the temple and this time a stone bigger than he was fired out of the wall, slamming into the floor and cracking in two as it slid halfway across the room. More light flooded in to illuminate that corner of the temple, but in that cavernous space it still wasn¡¯t enough to see properly.

    The skeleton turned to face the hole and the cracked building-stone rose into the air and quickly flew back over, where an invisible hand held it together and shoved it into the wall again.

    The pressure on Dirt¡¯s body loosened and lowered him just enough to get one foot on the cold stone floor. He forced his mana into his muscles to make the sparking, burning power give him all the strength he could muster.

    Dirt twisted violently to shake off the invisible fingers that held him, flailing and punching in every direction. The chains loosened further, lowering him far enough to jump forward. He leaped toward the skeleton.

    The skeleton was so light that Dirt almost went right through it. He grabbed its skull and several ribs as it disassembled around him, and using his momentum as he fell forward, smashed the bones into the ground. The fires in its eyes went out as everything shattered. Bits of bone and cloth flew in every direction and clinked loudly along the floor as they bounced and slid.

    Dirt scrambled to his feet and ran for the doorway, hoping there was nothing in the darkness to trip over.

    Bone slid across stone behind him and he glanced back to see the skeleton already reforming. Before he¡¯d gone ten steps it was back how it was before, other than some new tears in its decaying golden robe. He ran with wolf-speed toward the doorway, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Two paces from the threshold, the invisible hand closed around him again.

    This time it held him in the doorway as he struggled to break its grip. The skeleton clacked across the stone floor until it was right behind him.

    Dirt looked out desperately at the handful of dryads waiting just outside the corpse-pile. Callius and Dawn were gone, but Home was watching with an expression of such complete anger he almost didn¡¯t recognize her.

    A square building-stone from some other place was already flying through the air and slammed into the side of the temple, knocking free another part of the wall. Dirt decided they were trying to open it so they could see in and save him, not collapse the whole thing. He just hoped they knew what they were doing.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    When the dryads outside saw him in the doorway, they froze and no more boulders came.

    The skeleton kept Dirt facing outward as it walked up behind him, stopping close enough that if it had breath, he¡¯d feel it on his neck.

    It drew Dirt¡¯s knife from its sheath under his left arm and before he could react, a sharp pain blossomed halfway down his ribs on the right side. Dirt screamed as the skeleton held the golden cup under the wound and collected the blood that dripped down.

    Then it held his own knife against his throat, perfectly still, and waited. It was a threat¡ªhe was certain. Back off and leave the temple alone, or it¡¯d kill Dirt right now. Dirt strengthened his skin in that spot, making it as tough as stone. It¡¯d never cut him if he knew it was coming, right? That knife was sharp.

    Realizing the nearest tree was still close enough, he spoke directly to its mind. It was the one who¡¯d made most of the dryad corpses in that pile outside, and he said, ¡°It won¡¯t cut me again. Do what you need to do. When I can get free, I¡¯ll get away.¡±

    The tree couldn¡¯t talk back, but putting words in the part of its mind that he could read was trivial for them by now. ¡°We cannot risk it,¡± it said.

    ¡°How can its magic even beat yours in the first place?¡± Dirt asked, trying not to grow any more desperate.

    ¡°We had no idea it was here. It hides even its gap in the Many Connections. Some believe it has been here since the time of the Gardener, concealing itself and gathering power to thwart us.¡±

    All during this short conversation, the skeleton held him aloft in the doorway with his knife at his throat, the fine edge touching his skin so lightly he wasn¡¯t sure if his protection was working. But once it saw that no further stones were being slung at its dwelling, it receded into the darkness, pulling Dirt backward.

    The interior of the temple didn¡¯t hide the tree¡¯s mind from his sight, thank Grace. He told it, ¡°It hasn¡¯t killed me yet, so there¡¯s something it wants first. I¡¯ll live for at least a little longer. It might even just let me out after a while.¡±

    ¡°It is an abomination. If it corrupts you we must bury you both. We must save you before that happens,¡± the tree told him.

    ¡°I understand,¡± said Dirt, even though that was a lie. ¡°If I get out, do you think you can destroy it?¡±

    ¡°Now that we know it is there, destroying it is trivial. We await only your escape.¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Many ways at once, friend Dirt. You taught us many things and now we have learned anger.¡±

    There wasn¡¯t much more to say to that, and speaking to the tree¡¯s mind across that distance took more of Dirt¡¯s focus than he wanted to spare. He needed to listen to every sound, feel every tiny movement of air on the invisible hairs on his skin, watch for every flickering shadow.

    The skeleton pulled him through the air back to where he¡¯d been before, a short distance from the altar at the back of the temple. It ignored him again, leaving him hanging there as it returned to its reading. It fixed the wall without loosening its grip on him or looking up from reading the scroll.

    Dirt wasted no time waiting, however. He needed light and he knew of only one way to get it: Fire. He hadn¡¯t shared Socks¡¯ mind when the pup had made fire, but he¡¯d been standing right there. He just had to figure it out.

    A field of little sparks, that was the key. Not one big fire. Lots of little ones. He decided to make one spark first, just a single tiny little spark before he tried anything else.

    He quickly realized he couldn¡¯t do it like shaping wood. The spark needed to appear in the air, not grow out of something. There was nothing to reshape, nothing to communicate with and order to be different. All he had was the memory of fire, its brightness and warmth, its hunger and threat. The smell of the smoke as it swirled around them, the heat sizzling on his skin as the flames had gotten closer and closer.

    Dirt released most of the mana he¡¯d been holding, since he only wanted a small flame. If he accidentally made a big one, the fire might kill him before the skeleton got its chance.

    It was still ignoring him, but it wasn¡¯t reading from its scrolls anymore. It seemed to be hurrying as it took up blood from the golden cup in its finger like a quill and began writing on the floor, large shapes and letters that Dirt couldn¡¯t see well enough to read from over here.

    Dirt took the trickle of mana inside him and compressed it, then tried to move it out of his body. It wouldn¡¯t go. The more he struggled to get it to leave so he could try and ignite it, the more stubbornly it stayed inside him.

    It was in his mana vessel, he remembered, and his mana vessel was part of him. He couldn¡¯t exactly tell his arm to walk away, either. No, he needed to tell it what to do from inside him. Without lighting his insides on fire.

    The faint skritch-skritch-skritch of the skeleton writing on the stone with his blood grew increasingly distracting. The empty sheath was lighter now, too, which felt wrong. His blood tickled as it slowly dripped down his waist and onto the side of his thigh and he thought he could even smell it, the earthy scent filling his nostrils like a wolf¡¯s. The cut on his ribs stung more as time went on, too, as if to remind him he should still be terrified out of his wits. Well, his knees might be trembling with fear that his body couldn¡¯t fully expunge, but his mind was clear.

    He focused his will on a spot in the air a few feet from his face, although it was too dark to try and pick an exact spot. He let his thoughts quiet down and reached deeper inside himself for his wisdom, his active will that still remembered how to do all this.

    Dirt¡¯s thoughts became no more than a meaningless chant¡ªfire fire fire fire¡ªas he withdrew into his very soul, trying to speak from that place and command the mana.

    The skeleton stood and walked over to him. It didn¡¯t pause to regard him with its dead, unmoving skull, however; this time it jabbed the cut on his ribs with its finger to loosen the scabs and held the golden cup to gather more ink.

    Dirt looked away and refused to meet its gaze, if it had a gaze, lest it somehow realize what he was trying and take steps to stop him. He squirmed at the discomfort of the skeletal finger in his cut, but didn¡¯t whimper in fear or pain.

    Once it resumed its work, Dirt resumed his. He imagined fire, he dreamed of it, he filled every part of him with knowledge of flame. Then he could feel it. It was time.

    Dirt didn¡¯t speak or even think a word; instead, the truth of fire arose from the place deeper than thought and in the darkness, only a few feet from his face, a tiny spark burst into flame, burned brightly, sizzled, and died.

    The skeleton turned its blue-fire eyes up to watch him, but when he didn¡¯t move or react it went back to ignoring him and drawing on the ground with his blood. His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, but he thought he could see a dark circle on the ground now, wider than he was tall, scribed in dark ink. The skeleton was filling in the words and key sigils in the proper places. It was almost done.

    Dirt gathered all the mana he could this time. He felt in his bones that he¡¯d only get one chance at this, one chance to defend himself or die. Rather than give the sludge-like terror in his heart any more room, Dirt willed himself full of resolve. No fear. Discipline and sincerity.

    The skeleton stood and turned to face him again. A chair emerged, floating out of the darkness, and rested with its front feet on the edge of the circle. A second chair floated over to rest on the opposite side, facing in.

    Dirt floated forward as well, but he waited to launch his attack, unsure if this was the right moment.

    The skeleton sat on one of the chairs, its arms folded politely in its lap. It wasn¡¯t carrying his knife anymore, and a final drop of blood from its finger dripped down and plinked faintly on the ancient wood beneath its boney lap. It lowered Dirt onto the chair on the other side of the circle, forcing his body into the right shape to sit.

    All the while it held perfectly still, dead and silent except for the flickering blue flames in its eye sockets. Dirt struggled against its unseen hand, but it gave no reaction of any kind, nothing to indicate that it cared or was even aware of his resistance.

    That was no good. He wanted a reaction, something he could use to find the right time. It pressed him down onto the chair, which he found cold and hard and unyielding.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked, dismayed that his voice was still shaking. He sounded weak, but he wasn¡¯t. He was a wolf in front of his prey and his heart was full of fire.

    The skeleton just stared, empty and dead. Together they waited in silence, long enough for Dirt to think no signal would come and he should just attack now. In the empty quiet, he thought he heard a faint rumble outside, distant and deep.

    Blue fire from its eyes dripped like liquid down its skull, running across its teeth and falling from its jaw onto its collarbone and ribs below. The blue flame made long threads of light, two long, connected strings that ran all the way down to the chair, pooled, and dripped from there onto the floor.

    Dirt attacked. With a burst of will he demanded fire and the world gave it. A dozen white sparks ignited on the skeleton¡¯s golden robe and Dirt fed them all the mana he could to make them burn hot enough to kill.

    An instant later, Dirt¡¯s command of the flames severed as if by a knife and the sparks vanished, leaving behind faint wisps of smoke that drifted on the unmoving air, round swirling shapes illuminated by the skeleton¡¯s blue fire.

    Once the dripping flames from its eyes reached the circle of blood, the whole thing ignited, casting the room into a steely brightness that revealed shape but hid all color. Dirt saw the interior of the temple, frescoed walls and painted pillars, benches and altars and much more, but he had no time to spare on scenery.

    Instead he read the words on the ground and tried to remember the shapes and sigils and signs written there. TO RING AND TO STRIKE AMONG THE COUNTLESS FORMS, MY HAND IS A LIGHT PERPETUAL, MY SPIRIT ALWAYS IN POWER.

    Dirt didn¡¯t know any of the sigils or signs, which disappointed him; he¡¯d lost those memories with everything else and the words of the circle itself gave him no clue what the skeleton was attempting.

    The blue flames of the circle touched his feet but felt cold instead of hot, freezing painfully instead of burning. Two lines of flame rose up the flesh of his calf, up his thigh and across his hips, up the front of his chest and neck. Dirt screamed, the pain and terror overcoming his temporary resolve to fight.

    Worse than the pain on his skin from the freezing fire was the way it twisted him inside, filled him with revulsion and disgust. He could feel it corrupting him, as if it was touching all his bodies at once and wilting them.

    His screams took on a desperate, miserable note as the blue flames climbed up his neck, up his cheeks.

    Then, with a sizzling hiss, they plunged into his eyeballs.

 Ancient Things - Chapter 38 - Volume I End

    The blue fire penetrated deeper than his eyes. It plunged directly into his consciousness and all pain vanished as Dirt felt himself separated from his own body and thrust into a realm of pure thought. He had no fingers to feel, no ears to hear. This was not the dream or even the world of the mind; it was something else.

    A roaring sound arose, a slow, forceful crash that battered him unrelentingly. He felt his grasp on himself start to slip and mentally tightened his control to stay put until he could figure out what was happening.

    The pressure increased again and again, but Dirt held on, ever firm against the sweeping waves that sought to untether him.

    It pushed him in a direction of nowhere, in this place without up and down. Thoughts themselves seemed to take form and appear like the phantoms in dreams. But instead of visual images, they were thoughts themselves, ideas themselves, separated from any reference to reality.

    Something about this place seemed familiar, this perfect abyss full of nothing but chaos. He¡¯d been here before. He¡¯d suffered here for ages uncountable, twisting alone in the burning pressure of non-existence. It was not the usual sort of memory that told him so, but instead, a deeper knowledge from a place without words.

    The roaring sound became blue fire that surrounded him and tried to wash him away like a receding tide, or burn him to nothing like a thousand fires, but he withstood it, making himself an unmovable rock.

    The blue fire took shape, causing a world to spring into existence around him. Suddenly there was up and down, a floor, forward and back. Dirt huddled, tiny and naked, before an immense woman all made of blue flame. She stood imposing and regal, at least three times his height. Her dress reminded him of a robe and upon her head, a crown of leaves held the intricate curls of her hair into a perfect nest of braids.

    Dirt shuddered and stepped back. This was the skeleton. She was here with him. All those uncountable years alone in a place like this, and now he was here by her will.

    She spoke and her voice was all things ringing in unison. ¡°You cannot resist. I am power indomitable.¡±

    Dirt hovered in midair in front of her face, which grew to half the size of Mother¡¯s. Easily big enough to eat him if she wanted, but Dirt couldn¡¯t help but feel a hint of amusement that the blue-flame woman thought this was big enough to scare him.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked. His voice was a whisper here, a bit of dust soon to be swept away.

    ¡°I want you to be gone!¡± she screamed, her voice raising in pitch until it was a screeching hiss like ten thousand wasps singing together.

    All around him swirled the blue flames, ice and death themselves. The flames roared and licked at his avatar but there was no skin to burn. Just ideas.

    ¡°Then let me go, and I¡¯ll leave,¡± he said. He changed his posture to that of standing, one hand on his hip, nonchalantly biting the fingernails of the other. For the first time in his life, his fingernails were actually clean. Whose idea was that, then? Certainly not his.

    ¡°Be gone! Die and be gone!¡± she screamed, raising both hands with fingers bent like claws ready to tear him apart. Fire swirled all around her and flared up dramatically.

    She thrust her hands forward and all her fire assaulted him at once, freezing and shattering him even as her claw-like fingernails ripped him apart. They shredded him into a thousand pieces, as if totally annihilated. Beyond any hope. Her will crashed into him, driving him apart and out.

    But this was not the first time this had happened to him. Dirt pulled himself back together, his will ever solid and serene, strong enough to deny her.

    In the real world, she could easily strangle him, or cut him open, or smash his brains on a rock. In the real world, he was just a weak little boy, nearly helpless and only alive because of others. But not here. He¡¯d lost everything here¡ªhis memory, his power, even the years of his life. But one thing had remained, strengthened and sharpened by thousands of years of strain and suffering and effort. His will had lasted the ages and it would not falter here.

    Dirt bared his teeth in a smile. ¡°This was the one place you shouldn¡¯t have brought me,¡± he said. He flicked his wrist and willed the inferno of blue flames to be gone. A shockwave extinguished them all, leaving a very surprised woman of flesh and cloth in their place.

    With nothing holding them back, the winds of chaos tore at them as they blew through the space she¡¯d created, carrying the sand of broken thoughts and unrealized creation that had scoured him for so long. He was hardened against it. She was not, and she twisted in pain.

    ¡°Now, tell me what you¡¯re trying to do!¡± he shouted. The force of his words blew the skin of her face like gale-force winds, pushing her cheeks and unraveling her hair.

    ¡°I will take your body and make it my own! You cannot resist me, for I am eternal!¡± she cried, a trapped and tormented soul who must win at any costs. Her desperation sounded more frightening than any threat.

    ¡°No, you won¡¯t. It¡¯s mine and always will be. Why do you have to do this? Why didn¡¯t you just die when you were supposed to?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Our sunset empire endured the Long Night only to break after the Dawn! All our cities are empty and crumbled, all our roads broken! It was so glorious, that bright marble, those happy faces who dwelt in peace. We lived in joy and now all is lost. I alone know and remember! I alone, alone, alone, so long. So long. Give your body to me. I have waited so long!¡±

    She wasn¡¯t really listening to him, though. She was trapped in her own inner world, driven to action by ancient preparation and not anything real and true. He knew because in this place, nothing true could be hidden forever.

    The spectral woman gathered her strength for her final assault. Dirt felt all of existence reverberate around him as it struggled to contain the power the skeleton had gathered over millenia.

    A wall of pure will slammed into him, crushing and obliterating him, seeking to drive him from his seat in himself and out into the void.

    Dirt shrugged and turned and let it pass, then stood again where he¡¯d been before. Those winds were not new to him; even if he could remember nothing of them, yet he knew them. He had been resisting for far too long to let himself be blown away.

    He willed her to be still and she froze. The force of her power sagged and relented and vanished, leaving nothing but her surprised and miserable gasps.

    Her eyes met his then, and for the first time, she truly saw him. Whatever was left of her spirit recognized his, and she said, ¡°Avitus?¡±

    ¡°Prisca?¡± he said, the word arising in him from nowhere. He knew her. Gods in Glory, he knew her!

    He watched as her expression turned from surprise to anger to furious loathing. Hatred filled her so strongly that the spell she¡¯d cast to create a space in the void collapsed and Dirt found himself back in the formless chaos with her. Her hatred burned like a glowing sun in the void.

    She assaulted him again, wishing to rip him apart. Her being was so full of hatred that he could scarcely believe she¡¯d ever had anything else in her.

    Prisca lost her last measure of reason and she attempted to simply consume him. She clawed for pieces of his bodies to rip away and swallow and make them her own.

    But she was not the wolf here. She was not as strong as the ripping tides of eternity or the unknownables that dwelt in the absence of all things.

    Dirt was. His existence proved it. He forced her back, separating them and leaving her hungering for his essence she couldn¡¯t reach.

    He faltered for only a moment, regretting that he recognized her. How rare and precious that was, after all this time. But even so, Dirt knew she was dead. This was a husk, an abomination. It might not even contain a Self, for all he knew, but it wouldn¡¯t make a difference either way. She had to be destroyed, preferably before she decided to drag him back into reality and kill him there.

    He became a true wolf and held her down like the prey she was. Teeth of willpower bit and tore, ripping away pieces of her thoughts and memories. Many he disregarded and cast into the void to be lost forever. People now dead. Her hopes, her goals, her desires. Her love. He threw them away without even a glance, lest they haunt him forever.

    Dirt consumed the rest and made it his own¡ªthe memories of places, the knowledge of days and months, the names of the stars. How the world had been, so rich and green, how delightful and nurturing.

    She unraveled in his hands and was no more. Without her there to hold the spell, the void spit him out for the second time.

    Dirt slid out of the chair and hit the stone with an uncomfortable thud that bruised his knees and made his teeth clack painfully together. He lay dazed on the cold stone for only a moment before regaining his wits. All was dark again except the distant doorway, the blue flame having gone out. He flicked a finger and a tiny ball of bright light appeared overhead, its warm yellow candle-glow illuminating the area. He glanced up, wondering how he¡¯d known how to make it. It had been as natural as breathing.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    In the other chair was nothing but a pile of dust and a few thin patches of gold cloth. There was nothing left of her.

    He recognized this place immediately. It was not a temple, but a schola of esoteric philosophy. This was the lecture hall, complete with¡­ it seemed his memory was still incomplete, and this was likely as much as he¡¯d ever get back. Much of the room¡¯s implements, broken as they were, were still a mystery. But he could remember the feel of the place and how it had looked before, its warmth and wonder.

    The doorway burst inward, sending stones flying in every direction. A huge furry shape flew forward and Dirt felt himself lifted off the ground again.

    ¡°Socks!¡± he shouted joyously in his mind, stretching out his arms in greeting.

    -You¡¯re alive!- replied the distraught pup. His poor heart was all a mess, full of suffering and terror. Socks pulled him right up in front of his nose and began licking him furiously.

    Dirt laughed and squealed for a moment, but only four breaths later it started sinking in what he¡¯d just gone through. His body still had plenty of terror in it, and he could see how miserable his poor Socks had been. All that, coupled with his pure delight to see his friend again, quickly devolved into desperate weeping as it all came out.

    Socks lay down on the ground right in the middle of the room, crushing what remained of ancient wooden benches. With a giant paw he pulled Dirt in beneath his head and pinned him tightly. It was as close to a hug as Socks could do, protective and warm. Socks couldn¡¯t cry, but he did whimper and keen miserably as he processed his own fears.

    The two of them cried together for a time, each reinforcing the other¡¯s mourning. Dirt cried until he was exhausted, cried until he felt clean. It had only been a few days, but oh, how he¡¯d missed Socks! And Socks had missed him too, worrying about him constantly even while he fought for his own life.

    Dirt could feel now how much Socks had suffered. The pup was exhausted, mentally and physically. Whatever hunted him was giving him no quarter, and he probably wasn¡¯t even safe now. Dirt¡¯s own misfortunes paled in comparison; sure, the dryads had probed and tested him, driven him to the brink of death. But they¡¯d been helping in their way and he was better for it. Dirt had gotten into just one real, serious fight and won, but Socks had never stopped being in danger. The pup¡¯s stomach was still injured from the latest attack, despite having his wounds licked. It had been that recent.

    Socks began a low growl and Dirt had to look at his mind to see why. The dryads had poured into the temple and now surrounded them. Home stood near the pup¡¯s nose, looking anxious.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Socks. They¡¯re my friends. Can we show them I¡¯m fine?¡±

    -Mother doesn¡¯t trust them completely so neither do I.-

    ¡°They really love me, Socks. Look,¡± Dirt told the pup. He sent Socks images of their desperate attempts to save him from the skeleton, and before that, how they played and how they comforted him. How Home rested his head on her lap and stroked his hair, how they fed and cared for him.

    Socks relented and lifted his head just far enough for Dirt to peek out and wave. ¡°Hi, everyone. I¡¯m okay!¡±

    The dryads erupted into a cheer. They danced and jumped and shouted, looking more like a crowd of human girls than they ever had.

    Home leaped right over the wolf¡¯s paw and tackled Dirt in a hug and Callius was right behind her. Socks growled again, but it was just annoyance now, not a threat. He didn¡¯t feel like sharing Dirt, was all.

    But he had to share, like it or not. The dryads were insistent as they pulled him out and passed him around for hugs. Socks got up and followed closely, his nose never more than a few feet away. Callius was the first to reach up and pat the wolf¡¯s nose, and he said, ¡°If my friend Dirt is your friend Dirt, then you are my friend Socks. Hello, friend Socks.¡±

    Socks didn¡¯t respond right away, though. He wanted time to think that over. Dirt sent him a puff of reassurance.

    COME OUT HERE, YOU TWO, said the Father of Wolves. His words struck Dirt to the core, filling him with animal dread even though the great beast¡¯s voice had no malice in it.

    All the dryads had heard it, even though most of their trees were probably far away. Home and Callius grabbed his hands to walk out with him, but Socks lifted him onto his back, out of their grasp, which made Dirt smile. It was nice to be adored.

    Socks stepped through the ruined doorway and Father¡¯s immense black head lowered to sniff them. Mother soon jostled her mate out of the way to smell them herself and Father stepped back to accommodate her. She was just a little smaller than Father, but she was on his scale and seemed no less dangerous.

    Seeing both wolves towering over him was almost enough to make Dirt lose his wits until he remembered what he¡¯d just done. He¡¯d just faced down the dead in the chaos beyond existence. He could have courage here, in front of wondrous things that weren¡¯t his enemies.

    Even so, he wasn¡¯t stupid enough to meet their eyes or look threatening or resistant in any way. Or greet them himself. Courage notwithstanding, he was a bug in their eyes.

    Father said, YOU MAKE A GOOD MATCH FOR MY CUB, HUMAN. RUNNING ABOUT, CREATING A RUCKUS. GETTING INTO FIGHTS AND LIGHTING FIRES. LOOK HOW QUICKLY HE RAN TO FETCH YOU.

    The immense wolf was amused, even affectionate. Dirt had never expected that. The vicious scars in the night-black fur of Father¡¯s face seemed to preclude the chance of any good humor.

    HE IS A PEST, complained Mother.

    Socks said, -An amusing pest, maybe. And I love him. Look what happened because I left him alone.-

    HE BROKE THE WORLD, said Mother. HE DESERVED WORSE.

    Dirt blanched. She was right. He had broken the world, even if he wasn¡¯t quite sure what that meant. Prisca had justly hated him for it, but he hadn¡¯t stolen enough of her memory to know more than that.

    WE ARE MORE FREE THAN WHEN THE GODS WERE HERE, MY LOVE, said Father.

    YET I DO NOT LIKE SEEING MY CHILDREN HUNTED, said Mother.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stop it! Whatever it is, I¡¯ll kill it! I¡¯ll destroy it forever so they¡¯re safe. I swear it! I swear it on everything I have and am!¡± yelled Dirt mentally. He knew interrupting was a terrifyingly stupid thing to do, but he couldn¡¯t contain the sudden passion that arose in him. Dirt hated that Socks was in danger. Truly, deeply, hated it, with all his being. Whatever the threat was, he¡¯d hold nothing back in ending it.

    Father huffed, amused. The air of it almost knocked Dirt over, which is when he realized he¡¯d stood up on Socks¡¯ back. Here he was, fists clenched and jaw squared in defiance of beings who could destroy the world if they wanted, saying he¡¯d do what they could not.

    LOOK AT HIM. LOOK HOW ADORABLE HE IS, said Father. Mother seemed resistant, but she still looked.

    Dirt didn¡¯t know what they were deciding, but he knew it was something.

    A dryad in the shape of a wolf approached the crowd, nearly as big as Mother but much gentler and graceful. She wasn¡¯t a predator. Dirt could feel that just looking at her. For fur, she had a forest¡¯s worth of green leaves and her eyes had the same glassy quality as the rest of the dryads.

    She spoke to them in body language, scents, and short vocalizations, and Dirt couldn¡¯t follow any of it. He didn¡¯t dare look at Mother or Father¡¯s minds to see what they were talking about, and this dryad¡¯s tree was too far away for him to look at her mind.

    The dryad-wolf began to shrink, her movements quickly becoming more energetic and playful, until she was Sock¡¯s size. Socks hesitantly stepped forward to sniff her and figure out what was going on, which she allowed. She sniffed him back and they circled each other for a moment.

    ¡°Dawn?! Dawn, is that you?¡± shouted Dirt. She was missing from the crowd, and something about the dryad-wolf¡¯s body language looked awfully familiar.

    ¡°Hello, friend Dirt,¡± said Dawn, her voice now a wolf¡¯s rough growl. Dirt didn¡¯t know wolves could even say words.

    -We can¡¯t say words,- said Socks, who¡¯d been watching Dirt¡¯s mind. -She¡¯s cheating.-

    DOES HE NOT RECOVER QUICKLY, MY LOVE? said Father. MOST ARE WEAKENED BY TRAUMA, BUT HE IS STRENGTHENED BY IT.

    Mother glared at Dirt, which made him think his heart was about to stop beating. He was trying to keep a good mood and not flee screaming, but they weren¡¯t making it easy.

    I SUPPOSE YOU ARE RIGHT.

    THREE THOUSAND YEARS IN THE CHAOTIC VOID, AND THERE WAS ENOUGH OF HIM LEFT TO DRAW BREATH AFTERWARD. HE IS WORTHY.

    MUST I LOSE THIS ONE, TOO? asked Mother, deep sadness clear on her voice. It surprised Dirt more than Father¡¯s good humor.

    Socks. She meant losing Socks.

    Father said, HEAR AND OBEY, CUB. YOU WILL STAY HERE FOR HALF A MOON, THEN YOU WILL TAKE YOUR HUMAN OUT INTO THE WORLD AND EXPLORE IT. KEEP MOVING, HALF A MOON IN EACH PLACE, AND THE DEVOURER SHOULD NOT FIND YOU. ONCE EACH SEASON, YOU WILL RETURN AND PRESENT YOURSELF TO US.

    ¡°We¡¯re just going to play here for half a moon, and then go explore? Can I come back to the den?¡± asked Socks.

    Mother answered, ONLY ONCE EACH SEASON. WE WILL FOCUS ON PROTECTING THE OTHERS UNTIL YOU ARE GROWN.

    Socks lowered his muzzle, peeking upward with regretful eyes. He whimpered gently.

    Dirt told Mother, ¡°Please, only if this is the best thing for him! I know it¡¯s not for my sake, but please don¡¯t let him talk you into doing something that isn¡¯t good for him.¡±

    Mother lowered her face until her nose was right over Socks¡¯ head, her fierce yellow eyes burning directly into Dirt¡¯s soul. ARE YOU PITYING ME?

    ¡°Yes, of course! Losing Socks is the saddest thing I can think of, and I think Socks losing his mother is just as sad. I love him, but look at me! I¡¯m tiny! I can¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m not a wolf.¡±

    THEN YOU¡¯D BETTER NOT LOSE HIM, HUMAN.

    Father said, WE HAVE NEVER TRIED THIS BEFORE, BUT WE HAVE CONSIDERED IT OFTEN. WE HAVEN¡¯T HAD A PUP THIS YOUNG WE TRUSTED ON HIS OWN UNTIL NOW.

    Dirt nodded, assured that he wasn¡¯t part of something that went against their wisdom. Regretful, perhaps, but they thought it was worth trying.

    He jumped off Socks and stepped back. On cue, Mother and Father leaned down to nuzzle their cub and lick his face. Little Socks had never looked so tiny. Either parent could probably still swallow him whole, but he wagged his little tail furiously and nuzzled them back. Such a precious thing he was! It was a wonder they could stand to let him out of their sight at all.

    The great wolves turned and left, running at an easy speed that caused them to disappear far faster than seemed possible. How did something that big just disappear?

    The dryads began to crowd in again, including Dawn, still in wolf-form. They gently patted the fur of Socks¡¯ paws. Callius took Dirt¡¯s hand and Home took the other. They led him to the nearest tree as Socks followed silently. The pup¡¯s mind still reeled from learning he was on his own now. Well, not quite on his own.

    The dryads fed them both all the sap and water they could swallow. After that, Socks carried Dirt and ran with the dryads all the way back to Home. But instead of retreating to his bed, Dirt reshaped the wooden house to be five times larger, with a big doorway on one side for Socks to come in. He softened the floor and made the whole place look like a small, warm, comfortable den.

    That night, he slept in Socks¡¯ fur. It wasn¡¯t quite the wolf pile he¡¯d wished for back then, but it was still better than anything else he could think of. Tomorrow, they¡¯d play with the dryads and race all through the forest. Perhaps they¡¯d see what else remained of Turicum, the ancient city that had been here once. It was the place where he¡¯d lived, broken the world, and been tossed into the void, and it was worth another look.

    Maybe the dryads could dig up the temple of Deopater, and maybe something remained of the theater. If not, maybe an old, buried cellar still held some wine. No, not after all this time. It would certainly have gone bad by now. Right?

    And after all that, in two weeks he and Socks would go out into the world to see what things could be found, ancient and new. The call of adventure sounded like a horn in all his thoughts until the pup¡¯s regular breathing lulled him to sleep.

 The Druid - Chapter 1

    -I think I smell humans,- said Socks. The pup¡¯s voice in Dirt¡¯s mind sounded quiet and low as he slowed his run and stopped. After glancing around, he padded silently toward a small copse of thin trees, where he sniffed the ground for a trail.

    Dirt sat up in a hurry and thought, ¡°Share it! I want to see, too.¡±

    Socks obliged and their senses of smell merged into one, shared across their mental link. Dirt¡¯s little human nose was completely ignored against the sensory overload of Socks¡¯ big wolfish one. As always, the big pup smelled more than Dirt saw, even though Dirt¡¯s human vision could see much farther. Faint game trails and their spoor, a stray feather from a hunting bird, five kinds of tree. An ant¡¯s nest.

    Even the mid-afternoon sun seemed excited now, peeking out from one of the stray clouds to watch the big wolf pup creep along and smell everything left and right, trying to pick up another hint of something that wasn¡¯t little Dirt up there on his back. Dirt looked at the minds in the area, his natural vision fading against the colorless, directionless mind-sight. The light of Socks¡¯ mind was huge, of course, since he was right there; but other than him, nothing but little plant-minds and a surprising number of small mammals huddled in the grass, full of fear once they heard or smelled Socks approaching.

    Socks turned around and backtracked to where he¡¯d first smelled it. He lifted his head high in the air and inhaled the gentle breeze, trying to catch a note of something unusual.

    At once they said -¡°There!¡±- The human-scent was too faint to tell much about the owner, not even the person¡¯s sex or age, but it was a scent Socks had only ever smelled on Dirt. Socks licked his snout and let the air drift against his wet nose to help him find the direction the scent was coming from. It wasn¡¯t from that copse of trees after all¡ªit was drifting along the breeze that rolled across the bumpy plains here in the foothills.

    ¡°Don¡¯t run too fast. Try and sneak so you don¡¯t scare them. If we see them first, maybe I¡¯ll go and you can wait,¡± said Dirt.

    -I won¡¯t scare them.-

    ¡°The first time I saw you, I was so scared I peed. And you¡¯re even bigger now. Remember that? You just walked up and sniffed me and I just about died from terror.¡±

    -But I want to meet them too.-

    ¡°You will, but let me go first. If we find them.¡±

    -We¡¯ll find them.-

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Socks didn¡¯t run at full speed, but neither was he slow. Dirt supposed that was fine, although anxiety began to twist around inside his chest. He didn¡¯t want the first humans he¡¯d ever met to run away screaming because they saw Socks first. Or do something profoundly foolish, like try to cut him with a sword. And if they were all the way out here, in these uncharted wilds, they¡¯d have swords.

    Dirt clutched his knife in one hand and squeezed the Home-staff resting across his legs with the other. Should he leave those back with Socks, so the humans didn¡¯t think he was a threat? No, it should be fine, since he was still a child. He was only two months old, although his body was eight years old. And some of his memories were much, much older than that.

    No, he had to bring the staff along so Home could see the other humans. And he had to bring his knife, just in case. Prisca had tried to kill him, before she recognized him. Then she¡¯d tried to kill him twice as hard. She¡¯d been undead, but nonetheless, Dirt preferred not to risk it again.

    The scent of human grew stronger bit by bit, each puff carried by the wind telling them a little more. It wasn¡¯t one human; it was two men and one woman. They weren¡¯t scared, but they were wary. They were healthy and smelled like leather and fur and oil and dust and salt and grain and more, on top of their human scent.

    When their minds began to glow faintly in Dirt¡¯s mind-sight, he thought, ¡°Okay, Socks, I think I can find them from here.¡±

    -I don¡¯t hear them yet. We will get a little closer.-

    ¡°Okay,¡± said Dirt. He gripped his weapons even tighter to assuage his increasing nervousness. He kept trying to force it away, but it came back each time he thought about how to make a good impression. He wanted to be cheerful, not nervous. Which made him nervous.

    Finally, Socks hunkered down behind a tiny hill the size of a sand bar and Dirt slid off him to the ground. They melded their sense of sight and hearing, and Socks closed his eyes to keep Dirt from getting dizzy. With the wolf¡¯s sense of hearing, Dirt knew exactly where they were. They were walking in a different direction, just a hundred or so paces ahead. Their cloth and leather swished, bits of metal plinked and clanked, their footsteps thudded. They were not very sneaky.

    Dirt crept up behind them, eighty paces, fifty. He paused to look into their minds and found them all more complicated than he expected. Each human mind had several layers and they weren¡¯t all in perfect accord with each other. ¡°Is my mind like that?¡± asked Dirt.

    -Yes. You have thoughts at speech level, faster thoughts below that, and one more layer that isn¡¯t words at all. Just watch the top layer and you¡¯ll be fine,- replied the giant wolf pup.

    Dirt looked into their minds again and realized that Mother had been right¡ªmost humans didn¡¯t have any mind sight. Their thoughts were unstructured and undisciplined in a way that told him they never suspected anyone might look.

    The second thing he noticed was that he couldn¡¯t understand them. Their minds were full of words that he didn¡¯t recognize. It had never occurred to him that this was even possible.

    ¡°Socks, something is wrong! They have¡­ I don¡¯t know how to talk to them!¡±

    -Silly Dirt, they are just speaking another language.-

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    -Did you think wolves and humans just have the same words for everything? And trees?-

    ¡°You don¡¯t even use words unless you¡¯re talking to me.¡±

    -Exactly,- said Socks. The pup was amused, but that just made Dirt more aggravated.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense. Words are words!¡±

    -They just use different ones.-

    ¡°Okay, fine, but how do I talk to them?¡± begged Dirt.

    -I will ask Mother, but you should go ahead anyway. Just talk to them like a wolf. There is much you can say without words,- said Socks, urging Dirt onward and sending him a mental puff of courage.

    Well, that was easy for him to say. He wasn¡¯t about to see the first of his own kind that he¡¯d ever met his whole life.

    Dirt scowled and started moving in their direction, down through the brush. If he hesitated too long, they¡¯d just walk away and he¡¯d have to chase them farther. He thought about trying to make noise so they¡¯d know he was here, but they¡¯d probably just think it was an animal.

    He decided to move quietly until they could see each other, and make a little noise then. Their trail wasn¡¯t a hard one, and they seemed to prefer to go around things than over them. Which was fine with him. Dirt followed their sound between some sticker plants and under a tree that had fallen against another one and was still propped up. From there, he went around a huge mound of vines and then he saw them.

    Two men with short, pale hair and one woman with long, dark hair. All of them had clothing from the neck down and satchels on their backs full of all kinds of interesting mysteries.

    ¡°Ho has sentit?¡± said the woman. The three of them froze and listened, and Dirt scuffed a plant, trying not to tremble in fear. This was it.

    They turned and regarded him in shock. He didn¡¯t have to see their minds to know that. Their eyes went wide and the woman even let her jaw drop.

    Dirt stepped forward again and tried to smile warmly. ¡°Hello,¡± he said with his voice.

    ¡°D¡¯on carai ha sortit?¡± said one of the men, the one with the short beard. His eyes were a fierce black that matched the cloth around his neck that draped down his shirt.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°No en tinc ni idea. Mai he sentit parlar d''una tribu que visqui tan lluny,¡± replied the other man, the one with only stubble on his face and round cheeks.

    Dirt let go of his knife, leaving it in the sheath under his armpit, and waved. ¡°My name is Dirt. It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡± His heart thumped against his ribcage and his toes curled into the grass for extra support.

    ¡°Ell ¨¦s brut,¡± said the woman. Her face was pinched and lined with wrinkles like the men¡¯s, but even through that he could see her disgust. Her mind carried the same idea¡ªhe was filthy. She was disgusted at how dirty he was. It had never occurred to him, not once in the two months he¡¯d been alive, that it mattered. But he looked down at himself and saw the coating of grime from head to foot with different eyes. Dirt of different colors mixed with the oils from Socks¡¯ fur and his own sweat painted almost every patch of skin. Only his face was clean, probably from being licked by Socks so much.

    Naked, too. The fact that he was naked way out here seemed to them to make him appear unruly and wild, partially inhuman. If he¡¯d only been dirty, that might be one thing, but dirty and naked and wild were a combination they shied away from.

    Panic set in. He should have known! He should have bathed first, somehow. Maybe made a little skirt of leaves to wear. How could he have forgotten that? A wolf didn¡¯t care, and neither did a tree. But it mattered to humans.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I can wash off!¡± he said, trying to mimic the action of wiping himself clean with water.

    ¡°Ens pot entendre? L''ent¨¦n algun de vosaltres?¡± asked the bearded man, looking at the other two.

    Dirt compared them to himself. They were human, wearing things they had fashioned themselves. Clothing made from plants and animal skin, cut and shaped in just the right way. Tools and weapons, supplies for the journey. And what did he have? Nothing. A knife and a stick and a coating of grime from hair to toes. What Dirt saw of himself in their minds pained him. They despised his filth and nakedness, they distrusted his presence here and what it might mean. They were looking around for others, other wild and vicious men hiding in ambush.

    ¡°I si la seva tribu ¨¦s hostil? Mira, porta un ganivet,¡± said the woman.

    ¡°Si la seva tribu ¨¦s hostil, llavors estem morts,¡± said the beardless man. His hand strayed to the sword at his waist.

    Dirt saw it and held the Home-staff forward in both hands, ready to fight. Why? What was happening?

    ¡°L''hem de fer callar o ignorar-lo?¡± asked the woman. She got a hard glint in her eye that was in no way feminine. She was as different from gentle Home and the other dryads as it was possible to get.

    Tribu. Hostil. Those words were close to ones Dirt knew, and he shouted, ¡°Tribu not hostil! No hostil, no tribu at all, just me. It¡¯s just me.¡± His voice was shaking and his courage was about to fail completely. He hadn¡¯t known what to expect in the slightest, but disgust and fear? It was unbearable. ¡°No hostil. Not hostil.¡±

    The three of them relaxed, slightly. Not completely. The bearded one kept his hand near his sword, eyes ever vigilant. He asked, ¡°D''on ets, noi?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I can¡¯t understand you. Friend? Do you know ¡®friend?¡¯¡± He held his hand out for one of them to hold it like the dryads did anytime they went anywhere together. What more friendly gesture could there be than that?

    ¡°Demana menjar?¡± asked the woman, looking at her two companions.

    ¡°Pot ser. D¨®na-li una mica de pa i mira si se''n va,¡± said the bearded man. He slid his satchel around from his back and unbuckled the flap keeping it shut. He dug around inside for a moment and pulled out something pale-tan colored, about the size of Dirt¡¯s fist. He handed it to the woman.

    ¡°Per qu¨¨ jo?¡± she asked, annoyed.

    ¡°Tu ets la dona. Tu tractes amb els nens,¡± he replied with a grin.

    The woman took the object from his hand and stepped forward, painting a false smile on her weathered face. She held it out to Dirt, clearly intending him to take it. When he didn¡¯t immediately grab it, she shook it toward him to make sure he understood.

    He took it and as soon as he felt it in his hand, he knew what it was. Bread. Dry old bread, the first he¡¯d ever seen. ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, trying to smile instead of cry. ¡°But I don¡¯t need your food. I have my own. What I want from you is¡­ I guess¡­ I just wanted to see other people. I¡¯ve never met other humans until now.¡±

    ¡°Per qu¨¨ no se''n va?¡± asked the woman, glancing back.

    ¡°Tu em dius,¡± replied the beardless man with round cheeks. He stepped sideways to look at something in the distance.

    Dirt was tempted for the first time to speak directly to their minds, to push the raw ideas into their heads and make sure they understood him. His heart felt like it was ripping in half. He wanted desperately to be with them, to hear human voices, to hug them and hold their hands and learn how to be a human. The rest of him wanted to run away in shame and hide until they went away.

    ¡°Can you tell me where I can find more humans?¡± he asked. He felt his voice getting softer, like it was already trying to hide.

    They didn¡¯t answer, instead just glancing at each other while they tried to figure out how to deal with him. They were growing more anxious the longer he stood there, as if he might present some sort of threat.

    He knew he¡¯d failed. They couldn¡¯t understand each other and they were not here to be friendly. He started talking, hoping that somehow some of it would get through.

    ¡°My name is Dirt, and my best friend is a wolf pup. He¡¯s the strongest of the brood and we¡¯re exploring the world together. I¡¯m also friends with a forest of trees so big I¡¯ve never been to the top, and one of them gave me this. It¡¯s a part of herself so she can always watch,¡± he said, gesturing with the staff. They flinched back slightly, as if he might leap forward and try to whap them with it.

    Dirt¡¯s heart was breaking and this wasn¡¯t working. He continued, ¡°I lived three thousand years ago and forgot everything. I killed an undead wizard. I fought goblins, and Socks and I faced even scarier things than that. I¡¯m not lonely, but you¡¯re my own kind. I promise I¡¯m valuable. You¡¯re humans. Please.¡±

    ¡°Est¨¤ balbucejant. Anem nom¨¦s,¡± said the bearded man with the sharp black eyes. He waved for the others to follow him.

    Dirt stepped forward and said, ¡°Wait!¡±

    The beardless man drew his sword and pointed it at Dirt. ¡°Ves-te''n, noi. No ho tornar¨¦ a preguntar,¡± he said. The meaning was clear. Go away.

    Dirt stared, unmoving. He couldn¡¯t believe it. They¡¯d really kill him, just to be rid of him?

    ¡°Dirt,¡± he said, pointing at himself. ¡°Dirt. My name is Dirt.¡±

    The beardless man lowered his sword, slightly, pointing it at the ground instead of at Dirt¡¯s face. ¡°Derrrt?¡± he said, rolling his r. ¡°H¨¨ctor.¡± He pointed at the shorter, bearded man and said, ¡°Ignasi.¡± Then the woman. ¡°Marina.¡±

    Strangly, all three names sounded familiar to him. H¨¨ctor sounded like Hectorus, Ignasi like Ignasius, and Marina was familiar as well. He might have even known people with those names, long ago.

    Dirt brightened, realizing they weren¡¯t so foreign after all. ¡°No hostil,¡± he said, stepping slowly forward. He reached his hand out, covering H¨¨ctor''s sword with it. ¡°H¨¨ctor no hostil. Ignasius no hostil. Marina no hostil. Dirt no hostil.¡±

    ¡°H¨¨ctor si hostil,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He raised his sword and pointed it at Dirt¡¯s face again.

    ¡°Why?¡± said Dirt, eyes filling with tears. He¡¯d tried everything. What was wrong with them?

    Dirt heard the familiar sound of Socks landing gently from a jump. The pup ended up right above him, the shadow from his nose covering Dirt¡¯s face.

    The humans blanched and stepped back. The scent of terror filled the air and their minds reeled, unsure what to do. They began shouting to each other, too fast and confused for Dirt to make out any of the words.

    Socks growled, teeth bared in menace. Saliva dripped from his lips and landed around Dirt.

    H¨¨ctor whimpered, face twisted. He tried to turn and run but he couldn¡¯t move his sword. It stayed in that spot in the air like it was buried in wood. Dirt realized Socks was holding it with his mind.

    ¡°Socks, don¡¯t kill them! Please don¡¯t kill them!¡± said Dirt aloud, turning and waving his hands. ¡°Please don¡¯t!¡± he sent in thought.

    -I do not like them.-

    ¡°Please, I don¡¯t want the first and maybe only humans I meet to get killed right away. I don¡¯t want that to be my only memory, forever.¡±

    -I won¡¯t kill them. Instead, we will hunt them.- The big pup stepped forward, placing a clawed paw right beside H¨¨ctor¡¯s sword. He leaned down, sniffed the man, and growled again, low and loud enough to make the ground tremble.

    The others fled in total panic, and from what Dirt could gather of their minds, they were hoping that eating H¨¨ctor would slow Socks down enough for them to get away.

    Dirt grabbed Socks¡¯ foreleg. ¡°Don¡¯t! Please, don¡¯t!¡± he begged aloud. H¨¨ctor¡¯s eyes met his, pleading and terrified. ¡°Please, Socks, let them go! They didn¡¯t know! We just can¡¯t understand each other!¡±

    -I¡¯m just scaring them.-

    H¨¨ctor looked up into Socks¡¯ eyes, the wolf pup more than twice his height. Then he let go of his sword, which remained stuck in midair, and fled after the others. Socks barked at him and the man ran even faster, stumbling and losing a shoe.

    -We will follow them at a distance and watch their minds and see what they are doing. I bet they lead us to the other humans. How does that sound?- asked Socks, his demeanor suddenly shifting. He wagged his tail happily and let his tongue loll out.

    Dirt sighed. At least Socks¡¯ antics were keeping him from crying in bitter disappointment. He took a few deep breaths and decided it could have gone worse. It could certainly have gone better, but it could have gone worse. And there¡¯d be more chances.

    ¡°What are you going to do with the sword?¡± asked Dirt.

    -Maybe I¡¯ll give it back to him if he¡¯s nice to you. Maybe I¡¯ll keep it. I haven¡¯t decided. But watch this!- replied Socks with excitement. The sword began swiping fiercely through the air, swung only by the force of Socks¡¯ mind. It flew in wide, swift arcs, making circles around them and trimming the brush.

    Dirt watched with growing envy. ¡°I need to learn how to do that with my knife.¡±

    -Let¡¯s give him his shoe back,- said Socks. The pup picked up H¨¨ctor¡¯s shoe with his mind and flung it forward with cannon force into the distance.

    From down on the ground, Dirt couldn¡¯t see far enough, so he watched in Socks¡¯ mind as the shoe smacked the poor man in the back of the head, still running. The humans hadn¡¯t made it very far, it turned out, since they were probably running without magic.

    --This might be too easy,- said Socks.

    ¡°Better than too hard. And more fun than waiting around for the Devourer to find you.¡±

    Dirt looked around for the bread, which he didn¡¯t remember dropping. When he found it, he was pleased that it hadn¡¯t been stepped on. He dusted it off and turned it over, considering it carefully. The giant pup lifted Dirt up onto the familiar spot on his back and Dirt crossed his legs and sat down, laying the staff across them. He held the bread in both hands, trying to decide if he wanted to eat it now, or save it for when he was hungry. Either way, Socks would probably want a taste, so they¡¯d have to share that sense first.

    -There will be other humans who like you, Dirt. You are not the runt of the litter. Mother would not have eaten you, if you were a wolf,- said Socks. He turned his head to look at Dirt with one eye. --Next time, I¡¯ll lick you all clean first.-

    Dirt smiled, letting a bit of warmth into his heart after all that stress. ¡°Sounds like a plan. Let¡¯s go!¡±

 The Druid - Chapter 2

    After waiting a sufficient time for the humans to think themselves safe, Socks followed silently after them. They were just far enough that Dirt had a hard time seeing any of their thoughts, but Socks still could, and he would get closer once they relaxed.

    -Share your taste and eat that human food,-- said Socks.

    ¡°I¡¯m not that hungry right now,¡± said Dirt.

    -No, you¡¯re afraid of being disappointed that you don¡¯t like it.-

    Dirt scowled at the back of his friend¡¯s furry head. Socks was right, of course, and Dirt hadn¡¯t even realized he felt that way until the pup said it. He had enough of Prisca¡¯s memories to picture low tables covered in delicacies of every variety, with sliced and arranged fruit, tender meats with rich sauces, fragrant wine. But that had been an eternity ago. That was the food of the Sunset Empire, which was all ruins.

    No, the more he thought about it, he was getting nervous about humanity in general. What if they all just lived in holes in the ground now instead of grand buildings? What if they were all wary and dangerous? Dirt had deliberately avoided most of Prisca¡¯s memories of people, but he still knew how they were supposed to act. Dignified. Graceful. Speaking in warm tones, telling stories or poems or discussing matters of state. What if all that was gone? Everything, not just the buildings? What if humans were little more than clever goblins now?

    Dirt pulled out the ancient knife, blade still undulled and free of any blemish. He admired its perfect shine, the smooth curve of its blade, the delicate handle. Humans had made this. If this level of artistry, if painting and music and architecture and everything was gone now, he wasn¡¯t sure he could bear to live among them.

    -They still have cities. The woman is thinking about one, from when she was little. I think they¡¯re looking for it. Now eat the bread. I want to taste human food and so do you,- said Socks.

    Dirt braced himself internally and shared his sense of taste, then his sense of smell as well so Socks could get the full human experience. The bread was about the size of his fist, maybe a little bigger, but flat. It was thick as two fingers and rectangle-shaped, probably so the humans could stack and carry them easily. He sniffed it, but it hardly had any aroma at all. Something faint¡ªa soft, warm smell, but hard to place.

    He took a bite, or tried to. It felt like he should be able to bite right into this, that it should be soft or maybe chewy; he wasn¡¯t sure. But it was hard as a plank of wood, and he had to grind off a corner with his teeth and get it wet with saliva to eat it at all. Once he did, the flavor was fine but not memorable. It was salty, which he¡¯d never tasted before, and that helped bring out some of the grain and other mild flavors. But mostly it just tasted crumbly and dry and old, and he only had the patience to eat half of it. ¡°Do you want the rest of this?¡± he asked Socks.

    -No, there¡¯s not enough there to bother. Why do you think they eat food like that? They had to make it and carry it all this way. Why not catch a rabbit and eat that?- asked Socks. The big pup felt disappointed, but more for Dirt than himself.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe they can¡¯t catch any rabbits. Maybe they¡¯re too slow and dumb,¡± said Dirt, his mood souring.

    --They were smart enough to make one of these,- said Socks, swinging his sword through a tuft of little round leaves on a bush, sending them flying.

    ¡°That¡¯s a good point,¡± Dirt admitted.

    After that they crept along for a while, following the humans. Socks said they were still being wary, so he kept a bit too far back for Dirt to get a clear image of their minds, making it hard for him to learn anything.

    But since he was watching already, Dirt¡¯s mind-sight found a small flock of little birds resting in the high branches of a tree nearby, happily chirping to each other and keeping an eye out for danger. The humans were slow, which meant Socks was creeping so quietly that the birds didn¡¯t notice until he and Dirt were right underneath.

    ¡°Wait!¡±

    Socks stopped and lowered slightly. -What is it? Oh, birds again?-

    ¡°Yes, but this time I have an idea. I¡¯m going to watch how they decide where to land.¡± Dirt prepared himself, focusing on the little bird-minds as clearly as he could, then clapped to startle them. It had the desired effect and put them to flight.

    Socks silently followed them to the next tree, where they landed again after deciding that the boy and wolf down below weren¡¯t much of a threat.

    ¡°One more time. Can you bark? Not loud enough the humans will hear.¡±

    The wolf pup gave one short bark, which was probably too loud, but it was fine. The birds flew from that tree to the next, which were two smaller ones with dead branches on top for them to grab with their little feet.

    -Did you see what you wanted?-

    ¡°I think so! There¡¯s just one bird in front who picks where to land, and they all watch him. So I just have to make him think¡­ Okay. Next time, follow under them, okay?¡±

    -Okay.-

    ¡°Okay, one more bark.¡±

    Socks barked again, amusement growing in his heart. The humans in the distance were interesting, but only for so long. This was starting to seem fun. Dirt patted him in agreement.

    The birds flew again, and this time Socks quickly stepped out underneath them. The little flock flew over an open area and Dirt found the mind of the lead bird quicker than he¡¯d hoped. It saw them below and had the thought, ¡®danger,¡¯ but Dirt told it ¡®safe¡¯ instead. ¡®Safe, safe, safe,¡¯ he repeated. The bird¡¯s mind was too simple to realize the thought wasn¡¯t its own, so it gave the faintest gesture mid-flight and the whole flock descended.

    All at once, twenty birds no larger than Dirt¡¯s hand landed everywhere, on his hair and shoulders, all over Socks¡¯ fur. Dirt squealed in laughter at their tiny feet tickling his skin. Socks looked up at him and wagged his tail. ---They¡¯re tickling my fur, too, and it makes me want to shake them off. But I won¡¯t.--

    ¡°Good, don¡¯t! Not yet, anyway.¡±

    They hopped all over, bouncing with both feet instead of walking. Some of them found crumbs from the bread and ate those with eager haste, and Dirt suddenly wished he¡¯d kept the rest instead of tossing it. He needed a bag, he decided. He was starting to have things to carry.

    Dirt held out a finger to mimic a tree branch and immediately one jumped up and landed on it, letting him finally get a close look. The handsome little thing was surprisingly colorful, with a black chest and beak and a line of red on its head that went down its back. Its cheeks were stark white, as were its tailfeathers, and its wings had streaks of red, brown, and black in them. It regarded Dirt with one eye, and a moment later, the whole flock took flight again and disappeared into trees farther away, across a patch of rocky grass.

    -Do you want to keep chasing them?- asked Socks, wagging his tail.

    ¡°I think I have a better idea. Haven¡¯t you wondered what all those little critters are that hide in the grass and run away whenever we get close? Let¡¯s see if we can look at some of them.¡±

    Socks sniffed the wind, then licked his nose to better feel which way it was moving. He snuck silently into the wind, so nothing could smell him coming. He moved slower than usual, being what he himself considered quiet, with his exceptional hearing.

    He hardly had to go far for Dirt to find some good candidates, and only a little coaxing got the owners of the tiny minds to come out into the open where he and Socks could see them. Dirt jumped down to get a better look, making way too much noise and scaring half of them away. But not all. Dirt caught them with thoughts of safety just in time, and they resumed doing whatever it was they were up to before.

    A mouse was the first, a furry, curious thing smaller than Dirt¡¯s finger if he didn¡¯t count its thin tail. When Dirt lowered his hand to maybe pick it up, it jumped on him and ran up one arm, across his shoulders, and into his hair, which got another squeal of laughter. The thing was digging around in there looking for food, and before it could find any, Dirt plucked it out and held it in his hand. It peeked at him and sniffed his scent, always moving, tiny heart racing. Then it jumped off into the grass and moved on, eager to be out of open visibility.

    Another mouse, and another, and soon Dirt could pick their minds out from the rest. The next was a rat, much larger than a mouse but shaped basically the same. It moved slower and its tiny fur coat didn¡¯t look as glossy, but its mind was bigger, making it easier to understand. Once it decided Dirt and Socks weren¡¯t threats, it became relaxed, even playful and affectionate. Dirt considered keeping it as a pet but chose against it for now. There might be something better, and he had nothing to keep it in.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Plenty more mice and rats, all creeping through the grasses. Overhead, larger birds circled and looked for them, and once Dirt picked up a mouse only to have a hawk snatch it right off his palm and carry it away to eat. It happened so fast he didn¡¯t have time to react before it was gone.

    They found a little snake, a weasel, and some hidden kittens whose mother feline was off hiding somewhere, before Socks finally got bored and said, --Let¡¯s go find something bigger. I want to eat meat.-

    ¡°What about the humans?¡±

    -You weren¡¯t paying attention to them right now anyway and they will be easy to find,-

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ll be able to come right back here?¡±

    -Of course. I can smell our trail. And even if I couldn¡¯t, I can feel where we are.-

    Dirt paused and looked up, meeting Socks¡¯ eyes. The pup licked his face once, quickly, to tease.

    ¡°What do you mean you can feel where we are?¡±

    -Look closely, and I¡¯ll try to feel it clear enough for you to see,- said Socks. The pup turned his mental gaze to a sense that was so subtle and natural that Dirt had never noticed it before. There was a slight tug, or perhaps just a corrective influence, that guided him in one particular direction. Socks knew somehow how far right or left he was, how far forward and back, in relation to it. The sense was pervasive, constant, but so quiet that Socks never consciously thought about it. Until now, apparently.

    -I just realized humans don¡¯t have that. How do you get around?-

    ¡°Wait, this whole time, you could feel exactly where you were? Is that how you always know where you¡¯re going?¡±

    -Yes. How else?-

    ¡°I guess I just go toward things I recognize. And I thought Mother told you the way, or Father, maybe. I had no idea!¡±

    -I never thought about it with you, since we are always going the same places. But those three humans have no idea where they are. The woman is trying to recognize things and remember, but they are lost. Once I realized that, it made me wonder how that was possible.-

    Dirt looked around at the wilderness surrounding them, the lumpy hills with snaggly trees and thick brush, the bare, rocky mountains beyond. In truth, he had no idea where they were in relation to the dryad forest or anything else from longer than a day or two ago. ¡°We used to put up signs with writing, and they¡¯d say, ¡®The water is that way, the town is this way,¡¯¡± he said, remembering. ¡°And there were maps, pictures drawn that would tell you where to go.¡±

    -Perhaps humans build houses because they do not often have to travel. Wolves have to look everywhere for prey but apparently humans don¡¯t. At least not as much.-

    ¡°The grain to make bread is grown in the ground so I bet you¡¯re right. How about I follow the humans closer for a while so I can see their minds, and you go hunt? I¡¯ll stay a little closer to them, but just enough to see clearly, and far enough not to get caught. I know you think it¡¯s boring and I haven¡¯t had a good look in hours.¡±

    Socks looked back at him, somewhat surprised. -You don¡¯t want to come?-

    ¡°No, I do, but I want to do this more. Maybe if I learn to talk with them, we can figure out where the city is they¡¯re trying to find.¡±

    -Fine, but if something comes, make your skin hard like we practiced and hit it with the staff.-

    ¡°I will. And if it¡¯s something too dangerous I¡¯ll run away.¡± Dirt stood and stepped up toward the pup¡¯s ears, which he scratched vigorously before jumping down.

    Socks leaned down and sniffed him, then said, --They are that way.-

    ¡°I know. I can see their footprints. Remember not to eat too many bones.¡±

    -I¡¯ll remember.-

    Socks left at a run and Dirt watched him disappear toward the mountains. Up close, Socks was cuddly and friendly, and far away, he looked normal size. But there was a middle distance, where Dirt could watch him in comparison to little trees and things as he ran by, that Dirt could really feel just how big the pup was. He must be twelve feet at the shoulder now and his fuzzy gray puppy fur was slowly being replaced by sleeker, darker fur like the older ones had, and he ran with such eager grace that he seemed more shadow than animal. With such a busy landscape, he was soon out of sight.

    It had been several weeks since they¡¯d been more than a dozen paces apart and now it felt strange to be alone. Dirt carried the staff over both shoulders and followed the footprints. He noticed the humans tended to walk around hills instead of over them, and around thick brush instead of through it. Socks didn¡¯t much care about either of those things and Dirt hadn¡¯t really thought about it.

    Dirt inhaled a little mana and started catching up. Between jumping over obstacles they¡¯d gone around and running at a light, easy pace, it only took him a few minutes to get close enough to see their minds clearly, perhaps a couple hundred paces from them. He avoided going anywhere he could see them with his eyes, since they¡¯d be able to spot him if they did.

    Now that he was close enough, he kept his eyes and ears open as much as his mind, listening for their sounds and avoiding stepping on anything that might make too much noise. He figured they only heard as well as he did, so if he didn¡¯t hear them, they probably didn¡¯t hear him.

    Which was good, because this particular spot had a bunch of larger trees that shed bark and dead branches, which littered the ground here.

    The woman, Marina, was taking the lead. Like Socks had said, she seemed to be trying to find a place from a long time ago. She remembered leaving that place, a city, in a hurry, and watching the mountains and landscape as they travelled. She had been scared then, and perhaps a child. The memories were faint and disconnected and it seemed to Dirt she¡¯d filled in too much with imagination and was probably doing that right now as she strained to remember more.

    The men were cross with her, too. They feared how far they¡¯d come and resented her and each other. Their imaginations were filled with bands of naked savages swooping down out of trees to feast on their flesh. Tribe¡ªtribu. Wild tribes, that¡¯s what they meant, what they thought Dirt was.

    He learned other words at a rapid pace, since the two men were having loud arguments in their minds with no one, and the woman was looking all over and thinking about the things she saw. Many words were similar enough to his language to reassure him they were indeed related¡ªwords like ¡®muntanya¡¯ for mountain or ¡®riu¡¯ for river. Some weren¡¯t the same word but related to a similar one. Their word for grass was ¡®herba¡¯ and their word for clothing was ¡®roba¡¯. Dirt pieced out others, such as the words for he and she, but it was tiring and he started losing interest.

    Dirt sat down to rest, even though it was just his mind that was tired. ¡°Can I have some sap now, Home?¡± he asked the staff. As always, she couldn¡¯t reply, but the sap started to appear on its side anyway. He could make sap with wood-shaping, but he preferred to wait until after dark for that when she was asleep. During the day, it was nice to know she was listening.

    An earsplitting cry filled the air from above, making Dirt drop the staff and plug his ears. It sounded like one of the large birds that liked to circle overhead, especially near water, but the sound it made was lower in pitch and much louder. It punched right into Dirt¡¯s most basic instincts, regardless of what he thought about it. Like when hearing Socks growl or seeing the undead move, his whole body screamed DANGER.

    But he knew that sound. He looked up, seeking out the gryphon overhead. It didn¡¯t take long to find¡ªit circled above the humans, a couple hundred paces ahead through the brush. It flew with all four legs tucked in, which made it look like a regular bird, just enormous. This gryphon was reddish-brown in color with tips of gold on its wings and tail.

    The humans¡¯ mind filled with one word, standing out against white-hot panic: grif¨®. Well, that was another one Dirt knew, now. Gryphon was grif¨®.

    H¨¨ctor had one other word in his mind, though: espasa. The poor man felt helpless and naked without his sword and had no idea how he was going to defend himself. He started scanning the ground for weapons and picked up a rock.

    That was the wrong thing to do. Dirt knew that from experience. Don¡¯t pick up a weapon in front of a gryphon. He ran forward at top speed, burning mana to leap over trees and crash through brush like wet parchment hanging to dry. It took him only an instant to land in the middle of the surprised and terrified humans, but that was almost too late.

    Dirt whapped the rock out of H¨¨ctor¡¯s hands just as the gryphon began its dive. Dirt hadn¡¯t seen enough of the beast¡¯s thoughts to get their flavor, so he improvised ¡®friend! safe!¡¯, as emotions, and fired that into its mind.

    The gryphon reared back in midair, then landed a few paces away, confused. Dirt said, ¡°Bon ocell!¡± which he hoped meant ¡®good bird¡¯ in the humans¡¯ language. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was the right kind of good, but the gryphon didn¡¯t know either, so it didn¡¯t matter. He corrected himself, ¡°Bon grif¨®!¡±

    Dirt stepped in front of Ignasi and Marina, waving his arm for them to stay back. He put down the Home-staff and stepped forward again, sending the gryphon feelings of warmth and happiness.

    The beast was too big to be stupid, nearly as big as Socks was when they first met. It was smarter than goblins were, almost smart enough to understand that the thoughts weren¡¯t its own. But not quite. Not quite. It finally accepted them and stepped forward to rub little Dirt with the top of its head.

    Dirt happily patted and scratched it, which made it poof out its feathers in contentment. It kept a wary eye on the other humans, though, and Dirt finally saw enough of its thoughts to understand what made it so mad. They¡¯d gotten too close to its nest, which was just a short distance to the side, uphill amongst an exposed slough of boulders.

    Dirt turned back to the shocked humans to explain. Ignasi held two long knives and Marina a bow, but both were letting them droop toward the ground. H¨¨ctor held the empty sheath of his sword up like he was going to fight with it.

    ¡°No all¨¤,¡± said Dirt, pointing toward the nest. ¡°No all¨¤.¡± No there.

    Then he pointed the other direction, away from it, downhill. ¡°Si all¨¤. Si. Anem.¡± Yes there. Yes. You go. Or at least he hoped that¡¯s what he was saying.

    He went back to scratching under the gryphon¡¯s feathers. ¡°Bon ocell, bon grif¨®.¡± As much as it enjoyed having its chest scratched, once it saw the three adults heading away, it gave Dirt a little bark and took off, returning to its nest to make sure everything was still fine there. It expected its mate soon, and the young were hungry. From how the gryphon thought of them, they must be the most adorable things in the world and Dirt badly wanted to go get a peek.

    Unfortunately, that would be profoundly foolish, so he didn¡¯t. He could probably defend himself against one, strengthening his skin against its talons and beak, but he¡¯d rather not find out the hard way he was wrong.

    The three adults had only gone a few paces before the gryphon took off, and once it was gone, they turned again to stare at him, almost too bewildered to think in words.

    Dirt picked up the staff and found that Home had made him a big lump of sap despite all the commotion, and he picked some of the grass out of it and took a bite. Then he waved and left, grinning widely as he chewed, enjoying how it stuck to his teeth. Socks would probably be back soon anyway, and there was no reason to scare them all again. Yet.

    One thing was sure¡ªthey¡¯d be nicer to him the next time they saw him. Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after that, giving him enough time to learn more of their words. Silly humans, he thought. They seemed more helpless than he was, which was a new feeling. He grinned with pride and took another bite.

 The Druid - Chapter 3

    Two days later, Socks was truly starting to get bored. The other humans weren¡¯t as fun as Dirt, since all they did was wander and argue. The pup even got tired of slashing that sword through the air, so he threw it back to them, and they thought it fell from the sky. That was fun.

    But around midday, as Dirt was chewing up the bones of a squirrel for the marrow, Socks smelled water and left the humans¡¯ trail at a full run. Dirt nearly rolled off backwards and had to drop what was left of his lunch so he could grab on.

    The pup ran toward the mountains, following the breeze blowing down from the heights. He leaped over clumps of trees and shrubs and ran straight over the bushes with his long legs until they found it¡ªa quick-moving stream, ten paces across at its widest and mostly shallow. The water rushed loudly down toward the valley below, splashing over boulders as it went.

    Socks stepped into it and made his way upward. -Let¡¯s go see where this comes from.-

    Dirt perked up at that. It had never occurred to him that a stream had a source. ¡°Where do streams come from?¡±

    -I don¡¯t know.-

    The pup splashed loudly as he ran up the stream, making as much noise as possible and enjoying how the water flew everywhere. Even Socks¡¯ sure steps slipped on the wet rocks every now and then, and each time Dirt had to hang on for dear life or get tossed in. If the water splashing up hadn¡¯t been so cold, it would have been a lot more fun.

    It turned out the stream was much longer than anticipated. Socks and Dirt hadn¡¯t spent much time in the mountains, since getting around up there was harder and there was plenty to see down below. But the canyon just kept going and going and going, and eventually Socks got tired of all the splashing and extra work and decided to walk beside the stream instead.

    Game trails wove all throughout the brush and trees alongside the stream, breaking away to head up the mountainside or around a cliff or into a side canyon. In narrower parts of the canyon, he had to leap from rock to rock, or creep precariously along an incline and try not to slide down, or some such thing.

    And there was certainly plenty to look at. The plants down by the stream were soft and full, brighter green than grew anywhere else. Tall, thin trees alongside the water with needles instead of leaves sagged under the weight of moss. Vines crept into the edge of the water, where their leaves were too torn up to grow any farther.

    In some places, the canyon floor widened and the stream slowed and spread, and in one spot a bunch of fallen trees and branches dammed the flow, creating a big pond. Dirt¡¯s mind-sight told him there was some sort of critter hiding in the dam, where it seemed to live. Two of them, in fact.

    Socks stopped there, finally resting after a long, tiring run. He lapped up some water to rejuvenate and Dirt slid off his back. But when Dirt leaned down for a drink, Socks gracefully put his big nose under Dirt¡¯s backside and tossed him halfway across the pond.

    Dirt screamed until he hit the water, face-first. Socks waded out, pleased with himself. The water only came up to his shoulders, but that was deep enough for Dirt to swim. After the initial surprise dunk, the water warmed up a bit and things got a lot more fun.

    Socks pulled different fish out of the water with his mind and looked at them, curious about their different colors. He ate a couple of the big ones, but they were far too small to be a meal. Dirt swam in circles, trying out different ways of pulling himself through the water. He used only his arms, or only his legs, or turned over and over like a rolling snake. He turned sideways and flipped his feet like a fish, and all sorts of other methods. He even climbed up and jumped off Socks¡¯ nose a few times, but the water wasn¡¯t deep enough to get thrown very high.

    After he tired out, he had Socks pull a fish out for him and they shared their sense of taste. Dirt took a bite and immediately decided he didn¡¯t like the scales, since they stuck all over his mouth and in his teeth. But the meat was nice, so soft it came apart just by pushing it with his tongue.

    --I wonder if there are any fish big enough for me to eat that aren¡¯t covered in tentacles,- said Socks.

    ¡°Probably somewhere. I bet we find some eventually. Maybe somewhere with a lot more water,¡± said Dirt. He ate the whole thing, since he found he could chew the bones enough to swallow. The eyes popped when he bit them, which was a surprise. He¡¯d always thought eyes were solid, but they were full of fluid that had a lot of flavor. He¡¯d never eaten one before.

    Socks climbed out, shook the water off, and lay down to rest in the sun and dry out all the way. Dirt followed him but stopped at the edge of the water and did his best to scrub himself clean instead. After his bare hands proved inadequate, he found a flat stone with a sharp edge that scraped it off nicely. He did a thorough job, even between his toes. Socks had to lick his back clean where he couldn¡¯t reach with the rock, up between his shoulder blades.

    Dirt was only satisfied after he got a good look at himself through Socks¡¯ eyes, turning in a slow circle to make sure he was all clean.

    -Now you look like a proper human,- said Socks, probably teasing.

    ¡°Well, I hope so. I¡¯ll have to let the humans see me before I get dirty again.¡±

    -What are you going to do about clothing?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Do you think they¡¯ll care as long as I¡¯m clean?¡±

    Socks huffed in amusement. -Now they can¡¯t smell everywhere you¡¯ve been. It makes you more of a stranger than before. Humans are silly.-

    ¡°I did save them from that gryphon, so they should be nice to me next time.¡±

    -How much of you has to be covered to be considered clothed? Could you just tie some vines together?-

    Dirt sat down and leaned into Socks¡¯ fur while he thought about that. Prisca had worn a dress of gold, as had the dead human named Callius. And Prisca¡¯s memories did include views of the grand cities, with people filling the streets; but they wore such a wild variety of things there was no way for the eye to take it all in. Not only that, but her memory was ancient and she hadn¡¯t been looking all that carefully in the first place. Nothing he¡¯d taken from her told him clearly what a human was supposed to wear, especially a young boy. However, it didn¡¯t seem like what the humans had on¡ªthick pants and shirts of heavy cloth and leather¡ªmatched anything Prisca remembered, or that all those buried skeletons had been wearing.

    -These humans don¡¯t speak the same language so I bet they don¡¯t have the same ideas about clothing anyway. Those memories won¡¯t do you any good,- said Socks. -Maybe you should just ask them and then make friends with the next ones we find instead.-

    ¡°Yeah. But after watching their thoughts for a couple days, I almost feel like we¡¯re friends. I feel like I know them.¡±

    -They don¡¯t know you, though.-

    ¡°I know. I wonder if I should keep it a secret that I can see their minds. Didn¡¯t Mother say most humans can¡¯t do that?¡±

    -Maybe you can ask these ones about that, too. That and clothing. And then if it goes poorly, it will be okay because you¡¯ll know for the next ones.-

    ¡°I guess that works. Then maybe I can wood-shape some clothing. Actually, I think I¡¯ll try that now just to see.¡±

    -Give it a try. I want to sit here for a while anyway.-

    Dirt picked up the Home-staff and inhaled a bit of mana, then tried shaping a thin sheet of material out of it. It worked, but not very well. The material he got wasn¡¯t flexible enough, and after creating a section a few hand-spans in length, he broke it off and poked at it, turning and flexing it to see if it would work. The more he played with it, the more it cracked and creased and came apart.

    He tossed that aside. It needed to be more flexible. With that in mind, he shaped another length, a big flat square that was thinner, lighter, and greener. It was flexible like he wanted, but when he pressed it over his knee to see how it¡¯d behave, it split apart.

    Well, that wouldn¡¯t work. He made some viny threads next, thinner than his pinky fingernail, and tried to weave them together. The first attempt resulted in a huge clumpy knot, and the second attempt just kept coming apart. There must be some trick to it, but he couldn¡¯t figure it out. Not on the first couple tries.

    -Little Dirt, look at the minds. There are a bunch of things sleeping somewhere nearby,- said Socks, perking up.

    Dirt opened his mind to Socks, preparing for a full mind meld. Realizing what Dirt had in mind, Socks opened his as well and their thoughts slid together and became one.

    Socks and Dirt said, -¡°Okay, let¡¯s see what Socks was looking at and where they are.¡±-

    -¡°Yes, let¡¯s.¡±-

    Dirt¡¯s body stood up and moved a few steps away and they opened their mind-sights to see what was around. Dozens of lights appeared in a clump, all seeming bigger and more complicated than typical beasts. But they were all sleeping, which made it hard to judge what they were.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    With two mental perspectives instead of one, Socks and Dirt could easily point out the direction, and it turned out these were all underground. Not under the pond, but off inside the mountain to the right.

    Dirt¡¯s body climbed back onto Sock¡¯s body¡¯s back and they padded uphill to see if there was a big cave, or maybe a deep hollow. There wasn¡¯t. Just rocks. Socks¡¯ nose couldn¡¯t find any unusual scent trails, or even any air that smelled like it was blowing up from underground.

    -¡°They look too bright to be regular beasts. Even asleep, we can tell that much.¡±-

    Socks and Dirt made their way over the peak, which was farther up than it looked, and down the other side. Only then did Socks¡¯ nose pick up a new scent¡ªthe wind blew it down the mountain, away from where they¡¯d been, but it was a humanoid scent. Not human, though. Not goblin, either, but something similar.

    They followed the scent carefully down a rockslide and into some dry brush, which Socks gracefully stepped through. A trail came into view, much like a game trail except a little wider. The scent was much stronger on it and Socks picked up notes of hunger, eagerness, weariness, and many more such things. It wasn¡¯t just a few creatures here¡ªthere were too many to tell the individual scents apart.

    Socks and Dirt looked at the minds again and many more came into view. Perhaps hundreds of them, down inside the mountain, mostly clumped together. Most of them were sleeping, but not all. Some restless infants stirred and tired mothers fed them, but all were so weary and inattentive that Dirt and Socks still couldn¡¯t tell what they were.

    The scented trail led them to an opening, a dark entry into the mountain dug right next to a boulder bigger than Socks. A warm wind blew out from inside, rich with a thousand new scents.

    -¡°Socks is too big to fit in there. Should we send Dirt in?¡±-

    -¡°Dirt might be too weak. Look along the entryway¡ªthose look like claw marks. It looks like they can dig right through stone when they want to.¡±-

    -¡°Perhaps, but they are asleep. He should be fine if he hurries. He is not completely helpless. Let him bring the Home-staff and his knife, and fill up with mana.¡±-

    -¡°Dirt cannot see in the dark without making a light.¡±-

    -¡°Then let us make a light. They are asleep.¡±-

    -¡°We will make a light and go in, then. We do want to see what they are.¡±-

    Keeping the mind-meld strong, Dirt¡¯s hand raised and snapped his fingers. A small ball of flame appeared over his head, almost invisible in the bright midday sun. He stepped up to the entrance and they shifted their focus from primarily centered in Socks to being primarily centered in Dirt.

    Dirt held the Home-staff in front of himself as he walked in. Dirt and Socks made sure not to move too quickly, lest Dirt¡¯s eyes be too slow to adjust and he step on something noisy. Each step took them farther into darkness and after twenty paces, Socks¡¯ body closed his eyes, since there would be nothing to watch from that point.

    Socks and Dirt sniffed the air, wishing human noses were more effective; but there was no thick water in the air, or anything to smell other than rank humanoid. It was making Dirt¡¯s eyes water, so they wiped them and plugged his nose with their fingers. The firelight bobbled behind, just overhead, and when Dirt finally descended into true darkness, it lit up the interior of the cave bright as a torch.

    The cave was mostly natural, with an uneven ceiling and walls. But anytime it grew too constrained for something the size of an adult human to walk through unhindered, it was clawed away to make room. There was no dirt down here, either¡ªall the digging happened through solid stone. Dirt and Socks wondered if they could find a claw to keep, since they must be impressive.

    -¡°Something occurs to us. Are the creatures digging, or do they herd some sort of beast that does it?¡±-

    Dirt stopped walking forward and they took another look at the minds around them. Down much deeper, they found smaller minds, but those were awake and it didn¡¯t take long to figure out they were something else. Those were probably being herded. Those didn¡¯t seem to have eyes at all, sensing the world with sound and smell instead. Their minds seemed more insectoid than animal.

    -¡°Those must be herds kept for food.¡±-

    Dirt crept carefully down the tunnel as Dirt and Socks kept watch with mind-sight. Nothing stirred or registered their intrusion. They knew they were getting closer to the first clump of the mysterious creatures and when Dirt¡¯s body got within a stone¡¯s throw, the tunnel opened into a cavern of decent size. Smaller than the interior of Prisca¡¯s schola, but big enough not to feel cramped. No part of it was flat, with the floor curving up or downhill with the natural flow of the rock, but every inch of ground was occupied. Mats of woven grass, small baskets and pottery, trinkets of every shape and variety.

    Lumps of furry, sleeping bodies. They looked like nothing Dirt and Socks had ever seen, with long, muscular arms and ugly faces. Each was bigger than the three humans, both in height and thickness. They wore clothing of a sort¡ªsimple loincloths of tightly woven plant fibers, held in place by thin belts of some sort of twined rope.

    Between the dim light and the fur hiding much of their appearance, Dirt¡¯s human eyes had a hard time gathering enough detail to get a thorough picture of them. They had him creep closer, slow and silent, until he was only three paces away from one.

    Dirt and Socks couldn¡¯t even tell what sex it was because of the loincloth. It had nipples that might have been long enough for suckling, but if they were female breasts, they weren¡¯t pronounced enough to have any milk. It had a wide mouth, open and dripping drool. Its deep-set eyes twitched with dreams and its round, narrow head made it look both dangerous and stupid. The creature¡¯s heavy breathing had a rasp in it, one that Dirt and Socks were sure would cause it to cough and wake at any moment.

    There were more. Dozens more, just in this clump, all distributed haphazardly throughout the cavern. Some were noticeably smaller than others, but this group had none of the waking infants that Dirt and Socks had spotted elsewhere.

    The sheer stench of them was enough to get Dirt and Socks to think it was time to leave, but before they did, they had Dirt check some of the baskets for cloth, which they hoped to steal. Having a sample would make it much, much easier for Dirt to figure out later, and that would solve the clothing problem. And perhaps some food, if they had any, just to see what it was.

    Dirt and Socks kept an eye on them the whole time, carefully stepping on the quietest things they could find. The first basket was full of shells, which was curious. Where had those come from? Another basket had long, thin bones, all the same size, and likely useful for something they couldn¡¯t guess. The next had a few dried fruits in the bottom, but they didn¡¯t look appealing enough to steal. Finally, Dirt¡¯s gaze fell on a length of their rough cloth, a knee-high pile of it. Dirt picked it up and immediately turned to go, hurrying this time.

    He danced back across the cavern floor like a spider, trying not to drop anything. The staff was awkward and the cloth kept wanting to sag or dip everywhere as different places came out of order.

    It turned out not to be enough. He let the barest end of the cloth drag across the face of the first creature he¡¯d examined, the one closest to the door. It snorted and stirred and Dirt gave up sneaking to race back up the tunnel as fast as he could go. His bare feet slapped the stone far too often, letting the sound echo in both directions. The cloth unraveled more as he ran, nearly causing him to trip.

    Their mind-meld slid apart and half of Dirt¡¯s world disappeared. The overwhelming scent of creature instantly became a wretched stench, so thick on the air he was sure he felt it burning his lungs.

    -They¡¯re waking up. Hurry, little Dirt.-

    ¡°I¡¯m hurrying!¡± He reached a spot that had been much easier to slide down than it was to climb up, especially holding a staff and a bunch of loose cloth. He inhaled mana and jumped, but in his haste he went too far and cracked his skull on the stone ceiling above where he wanted to land. The surprise pain made him drop the staff, which clattered all the way down and out of sight.

    Dirt dropped the cloth and ran down after it. It didn¡¯t tumble all the way back into the cavern, thank Grace, but it still cost him precious time. He spared a glance at the minds and at least two were now awake, hearing him in the tunnel and getting angry about it. Very angry. Dirt was an intruder. They could smell him and he was not making their sounds.

    With the staff in hand, he ran using mana and went so fast his eyes had trouble following the turns of the tunnel. He picked up the cloth as he went, but let it drag in a long trail behind him instead of trying to keep it bundled up.

    The sunlight was blinding when he burst out of the cave and Socks had to pick Dirt up with his mind and put him on his back. The pup stepped back from the entrance but didn¡¯t run.

    ¡°They¡¯re mad, Socks. Like wasps, and I went in their nest.¡±

    -I know. I want to see them. Maybe they will want to fight and it will be fun.-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. There might be a lot of them coming out of there,¡± said Dirt, nervously trying to roll up the cloth to make it easier to carry.

    --If too many come then we will just run away. But I want to see them in the light. And they are big to you but small to me.-

    Dirt sighed and braced himself, filling with mana just in case.

    The screams came out of the entrance before the creatures did, shrill and long and piercing. Socks¡¯ hackles rose underneath Dirt, which just made him more nervous. At least Socks was preparing to take it seriously.

    Socks grabbed the first creature that came out of the tunnel with his mind, pulled it into the air, twisted in half, then threw back down the tunnel. Its halves didn¡¯t go far, slamming into the tunnel wall with two heavy thuds and splashes of blood and viscera. The second one came out injured but still enraged, screaming with a high-pitched voice that didn¡¯t match its furry, bulky body.

    The pup lifted that one in the air and brought it closer to examine. He rotated it in every direction like Mother had done with Dirt that first time, and it screamed the whole time. The thing¡¯s arms reached down past its knees, in part because the legs were short. Instead of hands, its arms ended in long, thick claws that didn¡¯t look like they could move independently. There was nothing to see in its mind but white fury and an underlying vicious cunning as it tried to think of a way to get to Socks¡¯ eyes and rip them out with its claws.

    In the few heartbeats it took for Socks to look the creature over once or twice, four more came out, then six. Socks created a web of sparks between himself and the beasts, which erupted into a wall of flame. He pushed the flame over them, igniting their fur and searing their tiny eyes and lungs. Their screams of anger turned into helpless agony.

    Socks twisted the head off the one he was holding up and threw the parts away. He called up another wave of sparks and sent them into the tunnel. When he ignited them, the flames caused a deafening explosion and flame shot thirty paces out from the tunnel. The exit was angled up and away, which was good because he and Dirt would never have dodged in time.

    -I didn¡¯t know it would do that! Plug your ears. I¡¯m going to do it again.-

    Dirt had to hold the staff in the crook of a knee, but once his ears were plugged, Socks created another explosion inside the tunnel. It was loud even with ears plugged, and Dirt felt it slap his insides. It made him feel nauseous.

    ¡°Okay, no more of that, please,¡± said Dirt.

    -Fine. I think they stopped coming out.-

    The pup was right. The area was quiet again, all screaming ceased. Dirt breathed a sigh of relief and settled in a bit more comfortably.

    -Wait. I think I woke the rest up.-

    Dirt looked with his mind, and although he couldn¡¯t tell direction by himself, he could still see hundreds of them waking. Some were confused, but most were simply angry. They didn¡¯t seem to have any fear at all. None.

    Socks turned and started back up over the peak, toward the little pond from before. Behind him, a crowd of the beasts rushed out of the tunnel, so quickly Dirt thought they must be organized. Up ahead, though, the ground burst open and more sprang out into the sunlight, their dark fur glistening. Then from somewhere else, another erupting shower of earth and rock and a new tunnel spat out twenty more.

    Now there were fifty, all racing forward on their stumpy legs and strong, vicious arms, screaming with high-pitched voices. More minds came into view and new tunnels burst open all over the mountainside, and then there were a hundred. Two hundred. Five hundred.

    Socks and Dirt were surrounded.

 The Druid - Chapter 4

    Socks sniffed the air, nervously flitting his tail.

    ¡°Are we going to run?¡± asked Dirt. ¡°Should I lay down? Or are we going to fight?¡±

    The closest group of beasts rushed on all fours, their mighty front claws tearing up the ground and spraying gravel and splintered stone behind them.

    Socks barked at them, as loud as he could. Waves of air pressure flew down the mountainside, ripping everything they passed. The creatures were shaken but not deterred. With so many minds, Dirt couldn¡¯t tell them apart, but he was shocked the things still weren¡¯t afraid.

    The group resumed its charge and Socks summoned sparks in their path, which he ignited once they were too close to stop. He fed mana into the flames, causing them to roar up higher, higher even than the tips of his ears. Even so, six made it through, as good as dead but still moving. Socks killed them one by one with his mind, but the last one got close enough the pup had to rip its front open with his claws, then tear it in half with his teeth.

    Dirt thrust fear into as many of the nearby minds as he could¡ªa desperate, urgent terror that wasn¡¯t completely separate from how he was starting to feel. The emotion simply slid right out of their minds, leaving only momentary confusion if it left anything behind at all. It mostly didn¡¯t.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think they can feel fear.¡±

    -Mother never told me about these,- said Socks. The pup was starting to get nervous, which didn¡¯t help Dirt keep his calm. More of them kept popping out from underground and those ones hung back and watched, eager for Socks to try and flee in their direction.

    ¡°Can you run through them?¡±

    -I¡¯m worried about their claws. Even I can¡¯t dig stone that easily. I don¡¯t want to run through or they will catch my legs.-

    ¡°What about jumping?¡±

    -Where will I land that they can¡¯t come get me?-

    Socks surrounded himself and Dirt with a wide circle of sparks, which erupted into a wall of flame. He kept the flames burning to buy time as they discussed.

    ¡°We just have to get far enough away to run. We don¡¯t have to fight them all,¡± said Dirt. He pulled his knife from its sheath and tossed it into the air for Socks, who caught it with his mind. ¡°How¡¯s your mental stamina?¡±

    -I have more than you,-- said Socks with a mental snort.

    Dirt grinned, not wanting to argue. Socks probably still did. Probably. ¡°Then let¡¯s fight seriously. This will be good practice.¡±

    A beast ran through the fire, waving its thick claws as if to cut the flames. It didn¡¯t work, and by the time it got close all its fur was burned off, leaving hideous miscolored patches of skin that ranged from its natural black to a raw pink. The flames had blinded it, but it stumbled forward anyway, hoping to get a lucky swing. Socks buried the dagger in the top of its skull, then withdrew it and let the thing drop.

    -I am tired of getting my belly cut open,- said Socks, letting a little childish self-pity come through with the thought.

    ¡°We won¡¯t let it.¡±

    Dirt stood and ran forward, holding the Home-staff in both hands. He leaped off Sock¡¯s nose and the pup flung him high into the air.

    Socks and Dirt slid into the mind-meld. It stung their brains slightly to do it again so soon, but they ignored it and pressed on.

    They threw the boy down into the nearest crowd, where he spun the Home-staff with mana-strengthened arms. Even though the beasts were nearly twice his height and weighed five times as much, the staff was unstoppable. It struck with greater force than its density could explain.

    Quick swipes shattered several knees and one skull before the wolf¡¯s eyes saw an attack coming that the boy¡¯s body couldn¡¯t slide away from. They pulled him up into the air, out of the way, and flung the dagger in. It sliced with pleasing effect, its force braced against Socks¡¯ huge body. Three more went down.

    But injured and dying beasts are still dangerous, and these ones died slow. From above, Dirt¡¯s eyes saw one jump out from under a tumble of wounded bodies, bleeding heavily from a gash straight across its chest that had missed its heart. Both lungs sliced into, it coughed blood as it made one final attempt to get its claws into Socks¡¯ front leg. Socks and Dirt threw the boy down from the air to crush it with the Home-staff. It didn¡¯t get back up.

    -¡°We should focus on clearing a path.¡±-

    Dirt and Socks threw the boy ahead into a less-crowded spot. Two sets of eyes guided every swing into a joint, crushing the knees of four more in an instant. Screams of rage became screams of pain. The wolf landed close to the boy, one paw pushing down a beast as it tried to get back up. Dirt and Socks surrounded themselves with sparks and ignited a ring of flame to guard them while they judged the next spot.

    The mountaintop was getting crowded. Even from up in the air, the boy¡¯s eyes found fewer and fewer spots empty enough for the wolf to land without being at risk.

    -¡°We need to kill instead of injuring.¡±-

    They threw the boy forward to the next spot and held him in the air just above the beasts. The boy spun in midair, swung down, and got a solid crack on the closest head, shattering it and sending red and pink matter out the back of its skull. Then they pulled him sideways, out of the way of the sudden attack from its neighbor. The boy swung again, catching this one where its ear might be, if it had any. It collapsed.

    The wolf ripped the arm off a beast with his teeth and kicked another one away with his back leg, then jumped to land in the opening the boy had created.

    They leaped again, throwing the boy ahead to clear a space. The beasts clumped to try and grab him from the air, but the boy spun like a descending leaf, cracking three more skulls in a motion that even the wolf¡¯s quick eyes saw as one smooth arc. The wolf spun as well, lashing out with claws and teeth as several of them got too close. The boy¡¯s eyes helped guide his strikes and four of them lost their viscera before the first one fell.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    -¡°This is a lot easier when one body doesn¡¯t have to try and watch everything himself.¡±-

    -¡°We did not think the boy¡¯s body would be this useful, but this is effective.¡±-

    Two together minds could process much faster than two apart, but the cost of such mental strain was increasing each moment. That was a concern for later, though. Having spared a moment to catch a breath, they nodded to themselves, beginning to think they might actually get out of this unscathed.

    From above, closer to the peak, the beasts pushed a round boulder out one of their holes. It rolled with unstoppable force, crushing everything on its bouncing path down the mountainside. But Socks and Dirt were far too nimble, even if the beasts had aimed right. It rolled harmlessly past them without even having to dodge.

    Socks and Dirt breathed a sigh of relief, but a slow rumble turned their eyes back toward the mountain top. Four more boulders came rolling, then ten more, then another ten. From one instant to the next, the mountainside was all but filled with them.

    Their bodies froze in sudden panic, even the wolf¡¯s. There was no time to think, even with two brains for the task. The boy flew upward out of reach, and judged the boulders¡¯ paths as closely as he could.

    All around them, the beasts hunkered down, some digging in. Socks and Dirt wished they could do the same with the wolf, but he was too big.

    The wolf dodged left, then ducked under a heavy one that had started bouncing. It was close and stroked the fur of his tail as it passed. The next two, he jumped over in one bound, then left again. Then another jump.

    And then no more came. The ones below kept rolling and sent up loud cracks and thumps that the wolf felt in his paws, but no new ones got pushed out. For a brief moment, the creatures stayed down, unsure if more were coming.

    -¡°Should we head into the valley instead of back up into the mountains?¡±-

    -¡°Why?¡±-

    -¡°Because they live in the mountains.¡±-

    -¡°Isn¡¯t that the wrong way? What about the humans? Do we still want to follow them?¡±-

    -¡°We can always circle around. Dirt can probably talk with them now, and there is more he wishes to learn.¡±-

    -¡°Socks is getting bored.¡±-

    -¡°Not after this.¡±-

    -¡°That is true.¡±-

    They sent the boy rushing down the open trail left by the tumbling boulders, the wolf following a few steps behind. The boy swung the home-staff wildly to fend off any rising beasts and the wolf flung any away who got too close.

    A larger boulder took a turn toward a group of five or six, slow to rise. It bounced right over them, leaving them perfectly unharmed.

    Dirt and Socks carpeted the ground with fire and leaped over it, passing over before the beasts even started screaming.

    From there, it wasn¡¯t too far until they had escaped enough of the gathering horde to dodge the rest. Socks and Dirt put the boy on the wolf¡¯s back and finally let their minds slide apart.

    A wave of nausea and dizziness hit them both, so bad that Socks stumbled and rolled, nearly crushing Dirt, who barely managed to hang on.

    Even with dozens of beasts still running toward them, it took the poor wolf three tries to get up and get moving again, and after a moment, he had to stop and vomit. Hearing it made Dirt sicker and he barely slid down in time to add his own lunch to the disgusting mess.

    Through a pounding headache, Dirt said, ¡°Are you okay, Socks? Do you want me to just run alongside for a bit?¡±

    -Yes. I¡¯m worried I¡¯ll fall again.-

    ¡°It looks like we need more practice.¡±

    -Can you run? Will you be okay?-

    ¡°I¡¯d rather run than get caught. They¡¯re getting close.¡±

    Dirt forced himself to get moving, ignoring the full-body churn that only slowly faded as he ran. Thank Grace he had mana to rely on and had no difficulty keeping it flowing, despite his other problems.

    The two of them descended the rest of the way into the little mountain valley, which wasn¡¯t particularly large. It was flat and mostly empty, with a crease down the middle that he hoped was a stream. Brush and trees grew on the west side, toward the sunset, but the mountains to the east were much barer and rockier.

    -Let¡¯s cross and go up those mountains and rest there. That should be far enough away they leave us alone.-

    Dirt followed the pup across the valley, speeding through the tall grasses and bare patches, over rocks and around bent and stunted trees. They crossed the crease in the valley, which was a stream with so little water in it they only stopped long enough to wash the vomit out of their mouths.

    Running was never restful, since Dirt always had to watch where he was going and turn this way or that, but it was restful enough. His headache faded, as did his nausea. By the time they reached the opposite end of the valley and headed up the smaller, bare mountains, the beasts chasing them were too distant to spot, or had returned to their holes.

    Finally, a knot of fear that Dirt hadn¡¯t quite realized was there untied itself and went away. They were fine. Gods in Glory, what a mess that had almost turned into.

    -Let¡¯s rest at the top. I want to see what¡¯s on the other side first.-

    Dirt sighed inwardly and made himself keep going, but the worst was already over. This row of mountains was smaller, too, more like oversized hills than anything. Once they reached the flat, round top and looked down the other side, a much larger valley opened before them, with another range of mountains far across to the east. The valley floor was wet, with countless little streams and small lakes everywhere. Patches of lush green contrasted with bare patches of dry yellow, fading into gray, dusty distance.

    A fair distance to the north, a pale tower looked out over the plains, not very impressive from so far away. Still, it captured the eye, and Dirt wondered how old it was, and how long it had been there. The landscape was broken up by straight lines, which Dirt thought might be fences or short walls. Or perhaps roads; it was hard to tell from up here. Some of those spots inside might be little buildings. Houses, maybe.

    -Whether or not Socks noticed the tower, it wasn¡¯t the most interesting thing to him. He said, -I think I can carry you now. Let¡¯s go a little farther. I want some of that water.-

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll just run.¡±

    The descent from the hilltop was easy, with a long gentle slope covered by grass, and down in the valley, the air was warmer and humid. Much of the ground was muddy, which resulted in Dirt completely losing the benefit of his earlier bath, since Socks kept splashing him. The water was mostly shallow, everywhere they found it. They checked four different spots before Socks found what he wanted, which was water deep enough for him to dunk his head and feet and wash the rest of the vomit smell off.

    Dirt scrubbed the fresh coat of mud off, then unwound the cloth from around his chest and washed it out as well. It left a surprising amount of dirt behind in the water and came out a different color, more of an off-white color than the pale brown it had been before.

    They rested on the banks, feeling more rejuvenated by the minute. Dirt asked the Home-staff for sap, and Home made enough for both of them to fill their bellies. They had no trouble keeping it down.

    -Did you see that tower? Do you want to go look at it?-

    ¡°Yes, of course. It doesn¡¯t look like anything I remember, so I wonder if it¡¯s newer. But, wait! I just thought of something. Socks, guess what!¡±

    -What?-

    Dirt sent the pup a mental image from the woman, something she barely remembered but which they were looking for. It was small village, full of humans, with a huge stone tower in the middle. In her memory, it was gray and square, not white and round, but nonetheless, he had to wonder.

    ¡°Do you think it could be the same one, and her memory just got messed up because it was so long ago?¡±

    -Maybe. If so, they are looking in the wrong place.-

    ¡°Well, no wonder the men are so mad at her, then.¡±

    -We can go look at it up close, and then we can ask them.-

    ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s do that.¡±

    The two of them looked back toward the hills, thinking of the small valley and long mountain canyon beyond, and the humans far on the other side wandering through brush and rocks looking for something they would never find.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go look at it first, and then I¡¯ll figure out how to make clothes. Then we¡¯ll go find the humans,¡± said Dirt.

    -How will we get them over here? I don¡¯t want to go back where those creatures were.-

    ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out. And when they see we brought them where they wanted to go, they¡¯ll HAVE to like me. Both of us.¡±

 The Druid - Chapter 5

    The lines in the area around the tower turned out to be fencing made of old, crumbling wood¡ªlogs laid through x-shaped posts that had mostly collapsed. They cordoned off respectably large areas of irregular shape, now overgrown and lacking any obvious purpose.

    Socks padded through at a slower pace, content to look at everything and take it easy, and that was fine with Dirt. It was an afternoon for relaxing, after the day they¡¯d had so far.

    Prisca had a clear memory from her youth of riding a horse through farmland, and it had looked something like this, even though it had been elsewhere. In contrast, though, the Empire¡¯s fields were never so disorderly as this. The fields of the Empire were all straight lines and deliberate curves, each field containing the same amount of ground. Nothing like here.

    The farmland in her memory had been full of tall yellow grass which Dirt knew to be grain, even if he wasn¡¯t sure what it was good for. There was plenty of grass without having to mark off sections of ground and grow it on purpose. It wasn¡¯t good for eating; of that, he was sure. He¡¯d tried.

    Prisca had been feeling wealthy and joyous in that moment, but that just made all this dead land look more desolate in comparison. What might have once been ditches for irrigation were now shallow dips. Small houses, huts really, stood forlorn, half of them toppled to the ground, and the rest still coming apart. The tight thatch that once made their roofs was little more than rotted clumps of grass, where anything was left of it at all. The mud-and-wood walls fared a little better, but the rain would wash them away eventually. The wooden fences would rot, the uneven lines carving up the landscape would fade, and nothing would be left at all to say anyone had been here.

    Except the tower. That still stood, sturdy as ever. The main door was missing and all the openings for windows were empty now, but the roof was intact and its pale stones weren¡¯t going anywhere. It was a respectable size, perhaps as tall as Mother, and all square. As Socks took them closer, the number of fields decreased, and the houses multiplied. Some had sturdier walls and roofs of clay, and enough of them remained to tell that a fire had destroyed most of the town.

    Socks sniffed around at everything he found interesting, which was a growing number the farther they got, and Dirt was content to let him take his time. Some of the decaying houses still had stuff in them¡ªburned furniture, ancient piles of rags in places where water was less frequent. Rusted metal tools.

    -This happened after Marina was here. How long ago do you think that was?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but probably a long time. Her memory of it isn¡¯t very clear.¡±

    -I wonder how long it takes for things to rot this much. Is it a long time, or a short time?-

    ¡°Neither of us have been alive long enough to guess. But can you still smell the fire? What does it all smell like?¡±

    Socks sniffed around again, poking his big nose through the window of a nearby house, then pulling it out and looking inside. --Well, for one, I don¡¯t smell human anymore. Not anywhere, even the bones. Do you want to go in any of these houses?-

    Dirt leaned over, considering. ¡°I guess so. This place isn¡¯t from my humans, when I was alive last time. We never made stuff that looked like this. But I should still go see what there is to find.¡±

    -If you are lucky, perhaps you will find some human clothes, and then you won¡¯t have to make them.-

    ¡°Really? Do you think so?¡±

    -Not all of this is burned or rotted. I think whatever happened to the humans who lived here was fast, and they didn¡¯t come back. Maybe they¡¯re all dead.-

    ¡°Well, if they stirred up all those digger creatures, then I wouldn¡¯t be surprised.¡±

    -You go in the houses, and I¡¯ll go look elsewhere. Don¡¯t get sad again and cry.-

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± said Dirt, but Socks leaned down and licked his face anyway. Dirt patted him on the nose, then looked around for a likely house. The closest one had a mostly intact roof of clay tiles, making it as fine a choice as any.

    Dirt stepped in through the doorway and found the door laying flat on the old wooden floor, a few steps inside. It had been smashed open, it seemed. Cracked and beaten before finally being knocked over.

    The walls were white plaster, once, until the fires. And before the fires, something had marred them. Perhaps blood, perhaps something else. Dirt wondered if there had been a fight in here, or even just a slaughter. All the furniture was smashed, as if done on purpose, but most had survived the flames. Only the left side of the house had burned, leaving the rest of the house intact.

    Dirt stepped out of the first room into the next one to the right. It was smaller and full of shelves, all still intact. Pottery and jars of glass filled them, many of them shattered. The intact ones were full of old dried fruit and vegetables, all gray with mold and decaying to dust. Still, some of the color remained on a few bits of old fruit, making Dirt wonder if it was still edible. He decided not to risk it. Socks had warned him about eating like a scavenger.

    Other than that, the room was unremarkable except for two human skeletons, one adult and one child. Judging from the state of their bones, something violent had happened to them, but it was so long ago that Dirt almost didn¡¯t notice them lying there in the midst of all the other decaying garbage.

    The next house was much like the previous one, and the one after that. Dirt found plenty of things that might have been useful if he were planning on staying or had some way of carrying everything. Hammers, awls, chisels, and larger tools he wasn¡¯t familiar with¡ªsome of them with little or no rust. Knives, but none of them as clean and perfect as the one he already had. Oil and lamps to burn it in. Candles. Flint and rusty iron that could still spark if Dirt scraped it clean enough.

    Clothing, too. Shoes and pants and shirts and plenty more uncut cloth besides, most of it damp and rotting with mold inside when he unfolded it. And everything he found was adult-sized, not child-sized, which didn¡¯t help.

    Most houses didn¡¯t have any dead in them, and never more than one or two. And most of the corpses Dirt found were skeletons, except a few who¡¯d landed in dry spots and mummified instead. The adults were clothed, all of it rotting and useless now, and the one other child skeleton he found was in a spot overgrown with moss, so it was impossible to tell what he¡¯d had on.

    Dirt decided the only truly interesting thing he would find here was clothing, and only if he was lucky, so he began tearing from house to house, looking for dry places and things unburned. He upended baskets and wicker chests, lifted fallen furniture, kicked through ashes.

    Finally, finally, he found a single pair of pants that were small enough for him to put on. They were dusty with ash and had been partially buried under an old bed that had fallen in, covering it with straw. But when Dirt shook them out, their dark green color returned and revealed a decorative stripe of red boxes down the side of each leg. The rope belt sewn into the waist even had the knot still in it, and after picking at it a bit, Dirt learned the trick.

    He pulled them on, and his first thought was that the cloth was softer than ferns, but not as soft as puppy fur. He wouldn¡¯t wear them all the time. Only when other humans were around. He decided that immediately. They were also too long for him, and so baggy they¡¯d never stay up if he didn¡¯t tie them tightly. Dirt took his knife and cut off the bottoms, regretting losing that nice hem with its charming coloring.

    Nonetheless, it was clothing, and it was in good repair. It wasn¡¯t even that old, really; not compared to the other human places he¡¯d explored.

    -Congratulations, little Dirt. Now you can toss that other cloth away because it still smells like those digger things. Get rid of it and then come to the tower. I found out what happened to this place.-

    Dirt obliged and untied the creature¡¯s rough cloth from around his torso, then tossed it with deliberate disdain into a moldy pile of old bedding. Then he grinned and ran, feeling how the cloth pants tugged his legs as he went. What a strange thing to do. Pants, of all things. Humans were silly.

    The roads were only identifiable because they had nothing in them but grass, but that made easy running. Dirt reached the tower in an instant and went in through the large empty doorway to find Socks wagging his tail next to a pile of skulls.

    -Goblins got them. Many goblins, I am sure. They brought all the heads and left them here.-

    Dirt stepped over to the skull pile, which was almost as tall as he was. Hundreds. He almost wanted to count them to find out just how many people lived in a place like that, but decided against it. He wanted his new pants to stay clean for as long as possible.

    ¡°How do you know it was goblins?¡±

    -Because of the dead goblins. Look, here and here.-

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    The goblin skeletons laying on the old, marred wood of the tower floor were impossible to mistake for human. For one, they were wider and thicker, and for two, the fangs gave it away.

    ¡°If this is all the heads, where are the rest of the bodies? And I found a bunch of skeletons with heads still on them.¡±

    --I don¡¯t know. Do you have another explanation?-

    Dirt thought about it for a moment. ¡°I guess they took the rest of the bodies home to eat.¡±

    -Oh. I bet you are right. So do you like your pants?-

    He danced a bit to show them off, then said, ¡°They¡¯re okay. I just hope Marina and H¨¨ctor and Ignasi like them.¡±

    -They look looser and baggy than what those humans had on.-

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    Other than the giant pile of skulls, the ground floor of the tower was a respectable chamber, or at least, it had been. Now it was largely empty, with a roof a couple feet above Socks¡¯ ears and three large fireplaces along the wall. Whatever furniture had been in here once was long since burned, along with the stairs to the next floor. The next floor itself, however, was still fine. They¡¯d only succeeded in burning the stairs.

    The wood floor was stained nearly black and the more Dirt looked at it, the more he thought it was dried blood. So much of it that almost none of the floor was untouched. So much it must have been a pool deep enough to splash in. The majority of humans had probably been killed in here. They¡¯d run in and hid but the goblins had taken down the huge doors.

    Dirt looked at the stairs again, wondering why everyone got killed here instead of up higher. Then he remembered something he¡¯d hardly taken note of and ran back outside. Sure enough, the windows all had awnings to keep the rain out, and long streaks of black under each one told him the goblins had built fires on the outside. The smoke must have gone up into the windows and made it impossible to breathe, so the humans inside had to come down. That was his best guess, anyway.

    Dirt went to the opening, stumbling through the half-burned chunks of wood in the pile, and jumped with mana. He shot up through the gap and landed on the bare edge, waving his arms to keep from falling back out. But Socks gave him a little push with his mind, and Dirt was safe.

    The second floor was curiously untouched, compared to the lower floor. A stain of smoke and a layer of ash over everything hid the room¡¯s color beneath a coating of gray, but none of the furniture was smashed. Long streaks of black along the wood floor told him that a few stragglers might have been killed up here and then dragged down the stairs, but the room was otherwise tidy.

    Desks and shelves filled the space, full of paper. Paper everywhere, all kinds of it. Dirt stepped over to a desk and picked some up and found it full of letters he couldn¡¯t read. He only recognized half of them and nothing made sense, even when he tried comparing it to the new human language he¡¯d been learning.

    Each of the four square walls had a window in the center, which was the only light in the room. Sunrays shone in through the dusty air, illuminating the spots close enough to be damaged by years of wind and rain despite the stone awning. Most of the room was untouched, and for the first time in his life, Dirt truly felt like he was in a real human place. Not an old, lost place, preserved only in stone and memory, but an actual human place, separated from life and vibrancy by only a few short years.

    Dirt walked over and sat in a chair, just tall enough for his toes to dangle. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table and wondered what a person who sat here might do all day. The wind didn¡¯t seem to touch this spot when it blew through the room, and the papers were stacked right where the last person had left them.

    -You are looking at things up there, aren¡¯t you? Share your sight with me.-

    Dirt quickly complied and went around looking at everything again, especially the papers. Socks was curious about all the little scribbles on them, and the furniture. Armrests on chairs, of all things, merited a great deal of his attention. Dirt found it all amusing and marched around examining things until they got bored. The stairs up to the third floor were intact, but creaked when Dirt went up them.

    -The stairs farted.-- said Socks, which got an out-loud bellow of laughter from Dirt.

    ¡°I guess you have one thing in common with stairs, then. You both fart when I get on you.¡±

    Then he had to make the stair squeak over and over again and laugh, accompanied by waves of deep amusement from the pup.

    The third floor wasn¡¯t open like the lower two¡ªthe stairs ended at a door, which opened easily when Dirt turned the latch. It opened inward, not toward the stairs, and a sturdy wooden post leaned on the wall beside the doorframe. Dirt stepped inside and shut the door to get a closer look. Iron hooks in the doorframe made a place to put the post and hold the door shut. He even lifted it, heavy enough he needed to use mana, and dropped it in place. The door wasn¡¯t opening with that there. So had the people up here been smoked out? Or had there been some who waited out the attack and left afterward?

    Beyond the door was a hallway with a lower ceiling than the floors below. Six doors lined the hallway, three on each side. Four of them opened to bedrooms, perfectly untouched. The doors had been shut during the fire and stayed that way ever since. The two bedrooms with windows were musty but still livable, and the two without windows were fresh as the night of the massacre.

    With shaking hands, Dirt removed his pants, pulled away the blanket from a bed, and prepared to climb in. For reasons he couldn¡¯t explain, it made him incredibly nervous. Like he wasn¡¯t supposed to be there. Not allowed. Not his place. Dirt was a wild creature and belonged huddled on the ground, not resting on clean sheets and a comfortable mattress in a safe room atop a stone tower.

    Dirt opened a bit more of his mind and shared his sense of touch along with his sight. That was a somewhat more involved and would result in a headache again if they kept it up, but for just a moment, Socks got to find out what it was like to be a human going to bed.

    He climbed into bed slowly, sliding his bare skin across the gentle cloth. The soft sheets smelled like linen and dust, a strong, clean, welcoming scent that tickled his nose. He laid his head on the pillow and pulled the blanket up to his chin and immediately warmed right up. The heavy blanket pressed down on every inch of him, holding him tight.

    -Are we going to take a nap? Because I¡¯m still down here with nothing but a pile of skulls,- said Socks, trying to hide his envy.

    ¡°No, I just wanted to see what it was like.¡±

    -It always feels weird that you have no fur.-

    ¡°If I had fur I wouldn¡¯t be able to feel the cloth.¡±

    -Well, that does seem comfortable. Not all human things are silly, I suppose. Beds are not silly.-

    ¡°Someday, I¡¯ll have humans make you one. A great big one, just for you.¡±

    -Come down, if you are going to. I think I do want to take a nap.-

    Dirt ended the sharing of his senses and slid back out of bed. He carefully spread the blanket back how he found it, even and free of any wrinkles. He tossed his pants over his shoulder instead of putting them back on and made his way down to Socks without checking the other rooms. There might be more things here he¡¯d want to see, and maybe they could even stay for a few days until the Devourer got close to finding Socks again.

    But for now, he had more important things to do. He and Socks left the tower to find a shady spot in an overgrown field just outside of town where they lay down for a nap. The nap was a long one, and when Socks woke first and licked Dirt awake, the sun was slipping toward the western mountains.

    -Are we going to try and find the humans now? Or wait until morning?-

    ¡°Well, after that nap, we won¡¯t be sleeping any time soon. Let¡¯s go find them. You¡¯ll be fine seeing if it gets dark, right?¡±

    Socks huffed in feigned indignation and tossed Dirt up onto his back, staff, pants, and all. Then he took off at a run, excited about the coming dusk and cooling air. They raced across the valley at high speed, too fast to examine anything they passed.

    Their path went around the mountain peak claimed by the digger-beasts and missed the canyon with the stream entirely. Socks had great fun leaping downhill at top speed, so happy in midair with the wind in his face he may as well have been born a bird. Dirt enjoyed it slightly less, since it always seemed like he was about to drop something, but he still whooped in excitement at the incredible distances the pup could cover with a single downhill jump.

    The path through the mountains to the previous valley was long enough that night fell before they reached it, and Dirt declined sharing their sight. He was content to watch the stars above come out as the cloudless sky moved from blue to purple to black. The Home-staff gave him a dinner of sap, which he chewed thoughtfully as he stared upward.

    In the daytime, the sky seemed an empty void that could yank him up to hurtle forever into emptiness, but at night, the stars made the sky feel closer. The lights were still impossibly distant, but there was a limit to them. If something flung him upward at night, he wouldn¡¯t fall forever. He would land on whatever was holding them up.

    Down here on the ground, there was very little for Dirt to see, but Socks had no trouble and hardly slowed down. The starlight was enough for him, coupled with his senses of smell and hearing. Dirt watched the pup¡¯s mind from time to time, always enjoying how vivid it was, with so much more sensory information than Dirt took in. And underneath it all, that tug northward that he hadn¡¯t known about before, directing Socks anywhere he wanted to go.

    The pup smelled the humans fairly close to the stream and followed their trail from there to a little campsite they set up. He approached close enough for Dirt to smell the smoke from their campfire and hear them arguing.

    ¡°Fa setmanes que no he vist ni una pista de c¨¦rvol. Qu¨¨ menjarem quan ens quedi sense pa?¡± H¨¨ctor was saying, his voice raised. Something about not seeing tracks for a while, and What are we going to eat when the bread is gone?

    Marina shot back, ¡°No ho s¨¦, H¨¨ctor. Troba una altra cosa. S¨¦ que estem a prop de la torre. Hem de ser. Reconec aquestes muntanyes. Conec aquestes plantes. ¨¦s nom¨¦s una mica m¨¦s lluny.¡± I don¡¯t know. Find something else. We are close to the tower, something about mountains and plants. Something farther.

    Socks said, -Wait, Dirt. Let¡¯s get them some birds to eat. If you want someone to like you, you should give them food.-

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a good idea. Can you smell any? And by the way, I¡¯ll give you more sap for dinner when you¡¯re ready.¡±

    The pup crept silently away from the camp, leaving them to argue. He sniffed all around until he found a scent he¡¯d passed up earlier¡ªbirds big enough to bother with, the size of Dirt¡¯s forearm. He crept up to the nest, which was tucked away in some bushes where Dirt would have trouble climbing in. The pup¡¯s long legs simply took them over the worst of the tangle.

    --Here.-

    Dirt slid down, landing loudly and shaking a bunch of leaves. The birds immediately flapped their wings to escape but Socks hit them with a wave of mental force and knocked them from the air. Even though they were white, Dirt had to feel around until he found them, and he decided four was enough since he didn¡¯t need any.

    He pulled his pants on, tied the rope belt, then jumped back up.

    Socks carried him back to the camp and Dirt slid off his back, all four dead birds tucked under one arm and the Home-staff in the other. He braced himself, taking a deep breath.

    The humans fell silent all at once. Dirt almost panicked, thinking they¡¯d spotted him before he was ready. He hadn¡¯t even thought of what to say yet.

    But it wasn¡¯t him they¡¯d seen. Socks could smell their fresh terror, and in their minds, Dirt found two huge glowing eyes staring down from the darkness. Oh, they¡¯d just seen Socks¡¯ eyes reflecting the firelight. Thank Grace!

    Dirt walked toward the camp, only a couple dozen paces. He strode with forced calm and fearlessness until he was well within the firelight.

    The three humans were too terrified to move. They were like prey that hoped the predator would move on if they played dead.

    He took another step closer, close enough to start feeling the heat from the little fire. ¡°Hola. Crec que est¨¤s perdut,¡± he said. ¡°Tens gana?¡± Hello, I think you are lost. Are you hungry?

    He smiled warmly, held the birds toward them, and waited for their reply.

 The Druid - Chapter 6

    The three humans continued to stare dumbfounded until Dirt got uncomfortable just standing there. But he wasn¡¯t going to give up already, so he stepped close and sat down by the fire, keeping a nervous eye on it to make sure it stayed inside the ring of stones.

    Marina was the closest, and she shied away from him, scooting backward while trying not to make it obvious.

    ¡°No tinc por,¡± said Dirt. I¡¯m not scary. At least, that¡¯s what he hoped he said. It was a little ambiguous. But he smiled and twisted the head off one of the birds, since there was nothing edible on them, and tore the skin off it with his teeth and fingers. Then he held it out to Marina, licking the blood off his teeth. She kept her hands down and didn¡¯t take it from him.

    Socks stepped fully into the light and sniffed the three humans, but not right up close, since they wouldn¡¯t appreciate that. -They smell hungry.-

    ¡°En Socks no fa por,¡± said Dirt. Socks isn¡¯t scary either. Probably what he said. ¡°I tampoc os vol menjar.¡± Or want to eat you.

    Ignasi absentmindedly tugged his short, pale beard and said, ¡°Pren-ho, Marina. No els volem ofendre.¡± We don¡¯t want¡­ something.

    ¡°Qu¨¨ se suposa que n''he de fer amb aixo?¡± she replied, somewhere between horror and disgust. What am I supposed to do with it?

    ¡°Es menjar!¡± said Dirt, gentle laughter in his voice. Gods in Glory, what was wrong with these people? He held the skinless bird in his teeth and tossed the other three to the humans, one each. They caught them, thankfully. Then he took his bird, gripped it in both hands, and bit deep into the guts, sucking them out and swallowing them whole. ¡°Menja-t¡¯ho!¡± Eat it!

    Socks leaned down and licked the blood from Dirt¡¯s face and said, -Be careful. You are getting dirty.-

    ¡°Oops, I forgot. Thanks! Are you going to talk to them, too?¡±

    -No. I want them to talk to you instead.-

    ¡°Dirt,¡± said H¨¨ctor, almost correctly.

    ¡°Si! Dirt,¡± said Dirt, pointing at himself. ¡°Ets H¨¨ctor, Ignasi, Marina.¡± Then he pointed up at Socks and said, ¡°Socks. ¨¦s amic meu.¡± He¡¯s my friend.

    ¡°Dirt, on s¨®n els teus pares?¡± Where are your something?

    ¡°Pares?¡± said Dirt, unsure what that word meant.

    Marina saw his confusion and said, ¡°Pares. Mare. Pare.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± He knew what they were asking. Where were his parents? ¡°No tinc pares. Tinc arbres i llops.¡± I don¡¯t have parents. I have trees and wolves.

    H¨¨ctor asked, ¡°Est¨¤s sol aqu¨ª fora? On ¨¦s la teva tribu?¡± Are you alone¡­ Where is your tribe?

    ¡°No tinc una tribu. Per¨° no estic sol. Tinc a Socks. I tinc a Home,¡± he said, pointing at Socks and the Home-staff laying on the ground beside him. I have no tribe. But I¡¯m not alone. I have Socks and Home. He took another bite from the breast-meat and chewed it slowly, pushing it around with his tongue and enjoying the flavor.

    ¡°Home?¡± asked Marina.

    Dirt lifted the staff with one hand to give her a better look. ¡°Forma part de Home. Ella ¨¦s un arbre. Tamb¨¦ amiga meva.¡± This is part of Home, who is a tree and my friend.

    Marina said, ¡°El teu amic¡­ ¨¦s un pal?¡± Your friend is a stick?

    Socks huffed in deep amusement and wagged his tail, which got a grin out of Dirt as well. But for Marina, he didn¡¯t need to look at her mind to see her pity growing. It was clear on her face, and seeing it made him unable to laugh.

    ¡°No, Home ¨¦s un arbre gran, gran, gran. M¨¦s gran que¡­ aquella muntanya,¡± he said, pointing at the mountain. Home is a big, big, big tree. Bigger than the mountain.

    The humans didn¡¯t seem to believe him, and Dirt didn¡¯t trust his language skills to explain more fully. So he resorted to taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully. He wasn¡¯t even hungry and the more he ate the less he wanted to continue, but he wasn¡¯t sure what else to do.

    Finally, Ignasi took out a smaller knife he had tucked in his belt and began preparing his own bird, and soon after, Marina and H¨¦ctor followed suit.

    Socks said -They haven¡¯t said anything about your pants.- He huffed again and gave a tiny growl, not menacing at all. He still found the whole situation hilarious, but the humans didn¡¯t know him. They froze, suddenly full of fear again. No, they¡¯d been full of fear the whole time; it was just that they¡¯d been able to ignore it and start calming down.

    Dirt hurriedly reached back and patted Socks on the side of his nose and smiled. ¡°Socks vol¡­ saber si¡­ t''agraden¡­ els meus pantalons.¡± Socks wants to know if you like my pants.

    ¡°Si,¡± said Marina. ¡°Molt bonics.¡±

    ¡°Aquesta ¨¦s¡­ la meva primera roba,¡± said Dirt. This is my first clothes.

    The humans weren¡¯t sure what to make of that, but they did seem relieved that Socks wasn¡¯t mad at them.

    Dirt watched with curiosity as they discarded the guts into the fire, which he didn¡¯t mind since it wasn¡¯t the best part anyway. But then, instead of just eating like normal, they broke sticks off a nearby bush, sharpened them, and skewered their dinner. Then they held the bird over the fire. Dirt almost jumped forward to stop them, suddenly angry they¡¯d go through so much trouble just to spite a gift from him and Socks, but they didn¡¯t toss the birds into the fire. Just over it.

    He looked back at Socks, and the pup said, --I have no idea what they are doing. But if they burn those birds, I am not getting them any new ones.-

    Dirt stared, and not even looking into their minds helped him understand what they were doing. They watched for something about the meat to change, but it wasn¡¯t clear what. The rest of their minds were full of spinning ideas and words that Dirt could hardly follow. Still afraid, though. They were still terrified. He couldn¡¯t blame them, since the first time he saw Socks he¡¯d been so scared he peed, but he also didn¡¯t know if there was anything he could do to help them relax. They¡¯d just have to get used to having him and the big pup around.

    He still had half of his bird left, so he went to take another bite. But Ignasi stopped him, reaching for it and saying, ¡°Aqu¨ª, deixa que jo tamb¨¦ cuini el teu.¡± Here, let me something yours.

    Dirt hesitantly handed it over and the bearded man stuck it on the end of the same stick he was already using. Then he held both birds over the fire while Dirt watched with growing anxiety that it would taste like ashes now.

    After a moment, Socks stood and sniffed close to the fire. ---You can smell that too, right? They¡¯re burning it, but in a different way.-

    Dirt lifted his nose and sniffed around as well, and now that the pup pointed it out, a new scent rested on the air. It reminded him of something burned alive by Socks¡¯ flames, but without all the sickly sharpness. There was no burning hair, for one, and that made a huge difference.

    The moon peeked out over the mountains to the east, smaller than it had been last night. Socks noticed it and stood. He filled his cavernous lungs and gave a long, mournful howl, which rose to the sky and filled the whole valley. Everyone paused and listened for a reply, but none came. Socks howled again, just as sincerely. No answer.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear anyone. Did you?¡± asked Dirt.

    -No. It is strange to be away from wolves for so long.-

    ¡°Do you feel lonely?¡±

    -Not yet. And in another month or two it will be time to return. Once each season.-

    ¡°Yep. Are we going to let Home bring us with root travel, or do you think you¡¯ll want to run?¡±

    -I don¡¯t know. It will depend on whether we see the Devourer or not. If he¡¯s close, then I will not dare run.-

    Everyone fell into a reverent silence after that, the humans watching the fire and Socks gazing up at the moon and stars. Dirt found himself shying away from looking at their minds too much, because now that he was so close and could see it all so clearly, all three of them were beset with deeply personal worries. It felt like an invasion of their privacy. H¨¨ctor still had a mate at home, a dona, and he was remembering a hundred things about her. Her voice, her hair, their arguments, mating with her. They seemed to have a bad relationship, but not always. Ignasi had no one waiting for him, but thought about his animals and wondered if they were being fed. He thought about a woman and wished he had taken her as his mate. His dona.

    Marina had no thoughts of home, but sent her mind back over and over into her childhood, people she hadn¡¯t seen in many years.

    Dirt quit looking. Until just now, he¡¯d forgotten about privacy entirely. He had no need for it so far, except a few rare times when he wanted to be alone. What was the point of privacy around Socks, or Callius or Home? Or Mother? Imagine even trying to hide something from Mother.

    But there were things he didn¡¯t want the humans to know yet, like that he had mana, or that he could see their thoughts. Influence them, too, if he tried. Probably. Maybe someday he¡¯d want to, like if someone was trying to hurt him, but right now, he wanted to prove that he could live among humans as a human.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Ignasi pulled his birds from over the fire and looked at them, poking the roasting flesh here and there. He didn¡¯t see what he was looking for and put them back to keep going.

    Dirt asked, ¡°Una pregunta. Per qu¨¨ esteu aqu¨ª?¡± I want to ask, why are you here?

    Marina was the one who answered. ¡°Estem buscant alguna cosa. Hi havia un poble on vaig viure quan era petita i est¨¤ molt lluny. El lloc on vivim ara s''est¨¤ tornant insegur i potser necessitem una nova llar. Potser si el meu vell poble i el meu nou s''ajunten, podrem sobreviure una estona m¨¦s.¡±

    She talked fast enough that Dirt couldn¡¯t quite follow everything, but he already knew what they were looking for, so it didn¡¯t matter. They were looking for something, a town she lived in as a child. Something about unsafe, and if they find it, perhaps they will survive longer. Something like that.

    Dirt said, ¡°No conec cap¡­ poble, per¨° s¨¦ on hi ha¡­ una torre blanca. ¨¦s sobre aquestes muntanyes.¡± I don¡¯t know any towns, but I know of a white tower. It¡¯s over those mountains.

    The three humans¡¯ eyes shot to his face, expressions suddenly focused. ¡°Torre blanca?¡± asked Marina, trying to sound gentler than she probably felt.

    ¡°Si, torre blanca. Podem anar, per¨° tu has de caminar. Socks no et portar¨¤.¡± Yes, a white tower. We can go there but you will have to walk. Socks won¡¯t carry you. ¡°¨¦s la torre el que esteu buscant?¡± Is the tower what you are looking for? Dirt asked hesitantly, not sure how to tell them everyone was dead.

    ¡°No, est¨¤ en cam¨ª. Per¨° si trobem la torre, no estem perduts. Des d''all¨¤ el puc trobar,¡± said Marina in a rush, her hands shaking and making the bird tap against the burning wood. No, but it¡¯s on the way. If we find the tower we are not lost. From there we can find¡­ him? It?

    Dirt smiled, eager. They finally saw him as useful, so that was a good first step. Now, they could all go together to the town, and they¡¯d introduce Dirt to everyone, and he would be friends with a hundred humans all at once. He said, ¡°Tothom a la torre¡­ est¨¤ mort. Per¨° trobarem el teu poble¡­ i all¨ª seran¡­ vius.¡± Everyone at the tower is dead, but we will find your town, where they are alive.

    That was the wrong thing to say, though. Marina gasped and both of the men tightened their grips on their sticks and got a hard look in their eyes.

    Ignasi asked, ¡°Mort? tothom?¡±

    Dirt looked down, already feeling his plans dripping away. He hoped he hadn¡¯t completely ruined it. ¡°S¨ª, tothom. Ho sento.¡± Yes, everyone. Sorry.

    From nearby, an owl hooted loudly and everyone turned to try and find it in the darkness. Except Socks, who could hear exactly where it was and didn¡¯t need to.

    Marina asked, ¡°¨¦s per aix¨° que est¨¤s sol?¡± Is that why you are alone?

    ¡°No.¡±

    Dirt looked at each of their faces in turn and already second-guessed his decision not to look at their minds. He could tell just by looking at them that they were deep in thought, their hearts filling with a dozen new concerns. And he could guess what ones¡ªhow did they all die? Is anything left? When did it happen? What about the town?

    But rather than peek and know for certain, he decided to wait and see what thoughts they voiced. Until then, he could be patient.

    They didn¡¯t ask him anything else, though, which surprised him. Instead, they waited until their birds were burned up enough, and once satisfied, Ignasi held the stick toward Dirt.

    Dirt put some mana in his hands and toughened them, just in case. It turned out to have been a good idea, because it was hot enough it might have burned his skin otherwise. But with the mana to keep it at bay, the heat radiating off the cooked meat and bones warmed his face in a pleasant way and filled his nostrils with a delightful scent.

    -Before he took a bite, though, he held it over for Socks to smell. The pup gave it several long sniffs, then raised his head and let his tongue loll out. --Share your taste.-

    ¡°Of course!¡± Dirt obliged and that part of their minds slid together. He gingerly took a bite of roasted flesh, a small one so he wouldn¡¯t burn his tongue. Then another, bigger bite, and another, until his cheeks were stuffed. ¡°It tastes different, but there¡¯s a lot more flavor now. I think I like it. What about you, Socks?¡±

    -I think I want enough for me to taste by myself.- I might come back with twenty birds,- replied the pup, joking. Mostly.

    Dirt laughed, which got surprised looks from the humans. He hurried to explain, ¡°Socks vol provar-ne. Va dir que¡­ tornar¨¤ amb molts ocells. Per¨° era una broma.¡± Socks wants to try some, and he said he will come back with many birds. But it was a joke.

    H¨¨ctor carefully asked, ¡°Com saps el que ha dit?¡± How do you know what he said?

    Dirt should¡¯ve seen this coming and had an answer ready. Should he just tell them now that he could see minds, and that¡¯s how he and Socks talked? No. He didn¡¯t know what they¡¯d think about that. Until he knew, he wouldn¡¯t say. He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. ¡°Puc parlar amb animals.¡± I can talk to animals.

    The humans nodded and went back to eating and Dirt breathed a sigh of relief. They kept an eye on him, though, glancing up every now and then at him and Socks, as if still unsure quite what to make of them. Well, that was fine. They¡¯d get to know him better over time. Dirt would be a lot easier to get to know than the dryads had been.

    Dirt was pleased that he was communicating so well, though. He felt like he learned a new word every single sentence. He¡¯d been expecting it to be harder. A few more days and it might be as natural as his real language.

    After everyone was finished with their dinner, they unrolled blankets from their packs and tucked themselves in, fully clothed. Marina slept on the end, and Ignasi was in the middle.

    Socks lay down and Dirt took his accustomed place nestled in against the pup¡¯s neck. As they drifted off to sleep, Socks said, -I want humans to put a whole bull on a fire for me.-

    Dirt smiled and patted his fur. ¡°The first one we see, I¡¯ll make them do it.¡±

    The next morning, Socks and Dirt woke much later than the humans and found them quietly waiting, all packed up and ready to go. The sun wasn¡¯t quite up over the mountains yet, but the dawn was bright and probably had been for a while.

    Marina smiled and brushed some brown hair out of her eyes. ¡°Are you ready to go?¡± she asked, in their language.

    ¡°Not yet. I want to eat first,¡± replied Dirt, pleased that it was becoming ever more natural to him. It seemed that conversing last night had caused a hundred little pieces to all slide together while he was dreaming, leaving him with a more complete picture of their language than when he went to sleep.

    He crawled out from his little nest in Socks¡¯ neck-fur and stretched. He stepped a few paces away so it wouldn¡¯t splash on anything and peed, then came back to the empty ash-pit and sat down. The three humans were hiding half-smiles, amused at something he couldn¡¯t guess. But they didn¡¯t choose to share so he didn¡¯t peek at their minds. In fact, he would have to be careful not to admit knowing things he could only learn that way, or they¡¯d figure it out.

    In his language, Dirt told the staff, ¡°Good morning, Home. I hope you slept well. Are you awake yet? Can I have some sap?¡± He hugged it, and while it wasn¡¯t the same as her dryad, it would have to do. And sure enough, soon after, she made a big glob of sap for him, which he pulled off and started chewing. ¡°Can you please make some for Socks, too? I¡¯ll wake him up in a minute.¡±

    The sap for Socks had to be made in sections, since it got too big and bulky to carry. Once the first bit was done, a round ball bigger than Dirt¡¯s torso that was too heavy to lift without mana, Dirt gave the pup¡¯s mind a gentle push to wake him up. Without even opening his eyes, Socks opened his mouth and Dirt threw the sap in. Then he sat back down and waited for the next glob.

    The humans were very curious about all this, watching without trying to hide their amazement. Maybe they just didn¡¯t know anything about trees, though, because sap wasn¡¯t a strange thing at all. They did let Home fill up their waterskins, though, once they saw that she could make water as well.

    After breakfast, Dirt decided to walk instead of ride, since he¡¯d do a better job keeping pace for the humans than Socks would. Dirt led the group and Socks walked behind, content to smell them and anything else interesting while he kept watch.

    There was very little chatter because it turned out that walking straight up a mountainside was tiring for normal humans, who had no mana to burn to make it easy. Dirt could sympathize, too, since it hadn¡¯t been that long since Home made him run up all those stairs. But they didn¡¯t complain and followed Dirt right up into a canyon between two flat peaks and into the mountains proper.

    Dirt wasn¡¯t used to travelling so slowly. He¡¯d run everywhere even before he got mana, but the adults would never stand a chance keeping up. They had those heavy packs to carry, after all, and he just had pants, a knife, and a staff. And a colorful rock when he saw one, and a shiny green beetle, until it flew away.

    When Dirt found a second colorful rock, this one pure white and round, unlike anything else nearby, Marina must have seen him trying to decide whether to keep it or not. She said, ¡°Why don¡¯t you put it in your butxaca?¡±

    ¡°My what?¡± he asked.

    She took the white rock from his hand and found a fold of cloth on the side of his pants, up near the top, and pulled it open. She dropped it in and patted it. ¡°Butxaca.¡±

    Dirt looked down and patted it himself, amazed. He¡¯d had no idea! Pockets. These pants had pockets and he hadn¡¯t noticed.

    Socks walked up and leaned directly over Marina to get a look, which made her freeze and try to hide her sudden terror.

    -Now I wish I had some of those.--

    ¡°You would look silly in pants,¡± said Dirt.

    Socks huffed in amusement. --That isn¡¯t stopping you. And I could wear two pairs.-

    Dirt laughed as they shared that mental image back and forth. ¡°He says he wants pants now, too, so he can have pockets,¡± said Dirt in their language, but from their expressions, that didn¡¯t clear anything up.

    He shrugged and they kept going.

    Socks and Dirt took a nap in the middle of the day like they always did and had a lunch of sap. The adults munched on some more of their dwindling supply of bread, and Dirt resolved to help find something to cook for dinner that night.

    Travelling in the mountains was slow. Even when they could follow a game trail, just the fact of going uphill made Dirt¡¯s feet drag and shortened his steps, and it was worse for the adults, who had no mana to burn. Dirt wondered if he could teach them to use it somehow, but then he remembered what it had taken for him to learn and decided against even mentioning it.

    That evening Socks killed a hunting cat and brought it to cook. Dirt made sure they gave Socks all the guts to eat, and then cook the rest. The four humans only ate about a third of the roasted meat, and Socks got the rest. He was about to swallow the whole thing in one bite, but then he paused and looked up into the distance. A moment later, he wagged his tail happily and looked more relaxed.

    -Mother says not to eat the bones. Cooked bones will hurt my stomach until I am older.-

    ¡°She¡¯s watching still?¡±

    -Yes.-

    ¡°I¡¯m glad. I guess they¡¯re not so far away after all, sort of like Home.¡±

    Dirt took out his knife and started carving the meat from the bones, explaining that cooked bones weren¡¯t good for Socks. Ignasi started helping with his knife, and Dirt couldn¡¯t help but compare the two. Dirt¡¯s was far, far nicer, flawless and sharp with a gently curving blade. Ignasi¡¯s was smaller, less gracefully designed, and losing its edge.

    The next day proceeded much the same, trudging up and down mountains, following canyons in an out, clambering over boulders and around bushes and trees. One place was nicer than the rest, with a soft floor and pines tall enough for Socks to walk through underneath them and enjoy the shade.

    Late in the afternoon, Socks suddenly barked, loud enough for it to echo off the peaks and come back down into the dry canyon they were in.

    -I smelled goblins. I think there are some around.-

    Dirt opened his mind sight and kept walking, looking for anything around that could be dangerous. Sure enough, after another couple thousand steps, he found a sizable group of them gathered somewhere nearby, eager and waiting. Their minds were full of anticipation and hunger and from what they were looking at, they seemed to have set up a hasty ambush not much farther up the canyon. He wondered if they¡¯d been there all day, waiting for a deer or something, or if they¡¯d known Dirt and his little group were coming.

    ¡°They¡¯re up there, I think, just over those rocks.¡±

    -I know. I can hear them already.-

    ¡°What are we going to do about it?¡±

    -I¡¯ll take care of these ones. You just wait here. It¡¯ll be fun.-

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    The pup leaped over Dirt and the humans and raced at full speed up the canyon. After walking so slowly for this long, Socks seemed shockingly fast and Dirt felt a pang of envy that he had to wait here. A moment later, countless screams rose on the air, high-pitched and full of fury.

    ¡°Socks found some¡­ they are green, and this tall, and shaped like humans,¡± said Dirt, halfway into the sentence before he realized he didn¡¯t know the word.

    ¡°Goblins,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°Goblins,¡± said Marina, quieter.

    ¡°Si, goblins!¡± said Dirt, happily. ¡°But Socks will take care of them. He is ready to have fun.¡±

    The four humans watched up the canyon and listened as the high-pitched screams of anger became fear and pain and were silenced one by one.

 The Druid - Chapter 7

    Dirt tried counting the goblin minds, but Socks killed them too fast. It seemed every time Dirt made a couple groups of five, Socks killed three or four and Dirt had to start over. The pup was having a great time, jumping from spot to spot and landing claws first. He didn¡¯t even use his mind to rip them apart, preferring to do it directly.

    Some he gripped in his teeth and threw high enough that they screamed, inhaled, and screamed again before they landed. Dirt felt the thud in his chest when they hit the ground. Others he gripped and shook violently until they quit moving. His front and back claws were longer and thicker than Dirt¡¯s forearm, and that was plenty to dispatch a goblin.

    By the time he was done, his front was bloody from paws to ears, and his hind legs all the way up to his torso. Indeed, there was very little of his darkening gray fur that didn¡¯t sparkle red in the sunlight as he happily trotted back.

    Dirt grinned and told him ¡°Now who¡¯s the dirty one! Where are you even going to clean off?¡±

    Socks looked pleased as ever, tongue lolling out and panting from the exercise. He picked up Dirt with his mind and licked him from stomach to eyebrows, leaving him pink with bloody froth. Dirt laughed and twisted in the air, trying uselessly to get away.

    -Uh oh. You got messy again. I¡¯ll have to lick you clean,- said Socks.

    Dirt squealed as Socks licked him thoroughly, since something about it made Dirt feel more ticklish than normal. ¡°Don¡¯t lick my pants! I just got them!¡±

    -I¡¯m not.-

    Dirt kept squirming and trying to shuffle off Socks¡¯ mental grasp, to no avail.

    --It¡¯s more fun when you hate it.-

    ¡°I don¡¯t hate it! I love it! Keep going! No, stop!¡± He laughed so hard he started coughing, and only then did Socks finally set him down.

    The humans were too stunned to speak. They looked scared, too, which Dirt found surprising. They were trying to hide it, but Dirt could still tell. But why? What was there to be scared of?

    Socks had killed goblins. That was a good thing. And then he¡¯d proven he was friendly by licking Dirt all over. What more could they want? He was tempted to look at their minds again but resolved to figure it out without looking. He¡¯d still have to watch their minds every now and then to keep learning words, but that could wait until they were walking and looking around at everything.

    Dirt turned and patted Socks¡¯ nose, never mind the blood. ¡°Don¡¯t fear him. He is my friend. Isn¡¯t he¡­ bonic?¡± He wanted to say ¡®cute¡¯ but the only word he knew that was close was ¡®beautiful¡¯.

    H¨¨ctor swallowed with a dry throat and said, ¡°Very beautiful. Dirt, pots volar?¡±

    Dirt tilted his head. ¡°Volar?¡±

    ¡°Si, volar. Pots volar?¡± H¨¨ctor flapped his hands like a bird.

    ¡°Volar?¡± said Dirt, mimicking the motion. ¡°No. I can¡¯t fly. Socks lifted me up. Oh, is that why you are ¡­¡± He couldn¡¯t think of a fitting word so he stood rigid, eyes wide, trying to look stunned.

    He must have looked silly because Ignasi laughed, a throaty, rasping sound that added to his rough charm. ¡°Boys do not fly, in our experience. And wolves are not so big. Per¨° ens hi acostumarem.¡±

    Dirt didn¡¯t catch that last bit, we will something. It was too late to look at his mind and figure out what he meant. But Socks never stopped reading them, apparently, and said, -It means ¡®get used to it¡¯.-

    ¡°Ah!¡± said Dirt aloud, nodding. ¡°Si, us acostumareu. Per¨° no puc volar.¡± Yep, you¡¯ll get used to it. But I can¡¯t fly.

    Dirt looked at them, trying to decide if he¡¯d already made a huge mistake. How was he supposed to know what was normal? Did they not have anything where they lived that could lift something with its mind?

    After an awkward moment of the human standing there blankly looking at each other unsure how to proceed, Ignasi patted his companions on the back and said, ¡°Come, Marina, H¨¨ctor. Let¡¯s keep going.¡± The man seemed full of an odd sort of good humor that resonated with Dirt. It felt like the amusement of giving up and letting fate win.

    ¡°Through that?¡± said Marina, pointing at the carnage-filled area just up the canyon.

    Ignasi didn¡¯t reply since the answer was obvious. Instead, he gestured to Dirt, urging him forward with a wry, toothy grin behind his beard.

    Dirt nodded, readjusting the strap holding the knife sheath under his armpit. He pulled his pants up a little and redid the knot, which was coming loose after being tossed around by Socks.

    Then they were off, making their way up the canyon. The fight had taken place in a small, round cavity, a little meadow that looked like part of the mountain had been scooped out to leave a hollow. Socks had made a tremendous mess, one which filled Dirt with admiration. Dozens of goblins had been waiting and now it looked like the area had been painted with them. Bits of innards hung from trees with split corpses underneath. Not a single one remained intact. Many were torn in half at the stomach, connected at surprising distances by thin ropes of entrails. Others were ripped open and then pulled apart, losing arms, legs, or heads in the process. He¡¯d even gone back for the ones he¡¯d thrown into the air, grinding them apart against the ground.

    Anything Socks had picked up, he¡¯d shaken violently, flinging blood into even the most surprising places. Under leaves, on the backs of trees somehow. The ground was muddy in places and sticky in others and finding places to step where Dirt wouldn¡¯t get his pants messy was no easy task. The stench of the place was so strong that even Dirt felt the heady rush of too many scents at once. Innards, blood, sweat, feces, rot, fear, and pain, which he was sure he could smell himself.

    He grinned widely and told Socks, ¡°It looks like you had fun.¡±

    -I did.-

    Marina gagged loudly behind him, trying not to vomit. Dirt turned, confused, to find her and H¨¨ctor looking visibly ill. He glanced at their minds and a wave of nausea hit him. They were so filled with horror and disgust they could hardly walk. Except Ignasi, who was still riding on a rapidly fading wave of good humor. He¡¯d noticed how amused Dirt was and it made him as uncomfortable as the indistinguishable bits of goblin dripping from the trees did.

    Dirt was more confused than anything. ¡°Why are you¡­ like that? It is just goblins,¡± he asked. ¡°Are you not happy they are dead?¡±

    Marina coughed and dry heaved, then closed her eyes and leaned on H¨¨ctor, who fared just as poorly. Ignasi looked pale but collected and said, ¡°This is not an easy sight. I have never seen so much blood.¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°It¡¯s the smell. The smell is too much.¡± Talking proved to have been a bad idea and the man gagged and spat out a mouthful of vomit.

    Dirt had made another mistake. He should¡¯ve asked if they wanted to go around, and now it was too late. They were in the middle of it and the only way out was forward. But again, how was he supposed to know? It was just blood. They were just goblins.

    ¡°Does this help?¡± asked Dirt. He inhaled a large amount of mana and called up some wind like the dryads had taught him. He waved the staff and made it blow down from higher up the mountain, carrying the scent out of the little divot-meadow and away. ¡°Let¡¯s hurry and then you won¡¯t smell it anymore at all.¡±

    Dirt danced through the carnage to keep his pants clean and led the humans forward while the ever-amused Socks followed behind. He didn¡¯t understand what the problem was any more than Dirt did, but he thought it was funny to find yet another way in which humans were fragile.

    The wind helped, though, and Dirt didn¡¯t feel bad in the slightest looking at their minds to know for sure. All three of them were wondering if he¡¯d made the wind, directed it, or simply detected it was about to happen somehow. Despite Socks saving them from having to kill the goblins themselves, the humans were less confident about Dirt than before.

    The terrain got rougher after that as they exited the top of the canyon and had to trudge up a steep incline toward the top of the mountain. Dirt decided not to fill his legs with mana and make it easy, out of sympathy for the other humans who didn¡¯t know how. He didn¡¯t want to get too far ahead of them or make another mistake.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Walking straight uphill was not easy, though, and his legs burned. Sweat poured down his face and torso and quickly evaporated in the brightening morning sunlight. Looking back, the humans were having no easier time. H¨¨ctor seemed to be the strongest of them and periodically he helped Marina cross unsure ground or gave Ignasi a hand to pull him up a rock. Dirt hoped they noticed he was tired, too, just like them.

    When they finally reached the crest of the mountains, finally able to enjoy the flat terrain between the two closest peaks, everyone but Socks was ready for a break. Dirt wiped sweat from his forehead and chest and licked it, enjoying the salty flavor.

    Socks helped him with that by licking him front and back. The big pup liked the salt as well and that was the only place to get any. Then, fortunately for the others, he smelled water and left with a tremendous sudden leap to go find it and wash off. The blood would have worked its way out of his fur over a couple days and in the meantime, Socks enjoyed being smelly. That meant that going to wash it off was an act of consideration, and Dirt resolved to thank him later.

    The humans were visibly relieved to have Socks gone, which made Dirt feel slightly affronted. Or maybe just disappointed. But he said nothing. Instead, he smiled and said, ¡°That was hard!¡±

    ¡°We usually like to go around instead of over,¡± said Ignasi, still breathing heavy.

    Marina dropped her pack and sat on it with her head in her hands. Looking at her mind, Dirt saw she still felt sick and couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the gore. He considered trying to nudge her thoughts elsewhere but decided against it. She might notice.

    Ignasi and H¨¨ctor sat on either side of her, resting on their own packs, and Dirt found a patch of dry straw to sit on. The three humans drank sips of water from their pouches and breathed deeply. Looking at their minds, they were trying to wash away the memory and quell their own nausea. Marina had it the worst, since the men enjoyed the scenery here more than she did. Up here between the peaks, with the distant mountain ranges and long canyons, the slopes carpeted in pines, the grand distances stretching into eternity in every direction, every sight was wondrous. It invigorated them and filled their hearts with beauty. But not Marina. She didn¡¯t appreciate it in the same way.

    ¡°Home,¡± he asked the staff in his language, ¡°Can you make some sap for Marina? She¡¯s not feeling well.¡±

    But instead of producing it like he expected, the staff made some tiny white threads like the dryads had used to explore his anatomy. The threads pointed toward Marina, pulsing at her. ¡°Oh, you want to take a look at her insides?¡± he asked, still in his language. Maybe it was a good thing they couldn¡¯t understand it.

    The threads pulsed again, almost eagerly. ¡°Okay. But you have to promise not to hurt her or make her feel worse. And don¡¯t snatch her with root travel. The men would be scared, and so would she.¡±

    Dirt stood and stepped politely over to Marina. In their language, he said, ¡°Marina, this wood is part of a big tree. Remember I told you the tree is my friend? The tree wants you to hold this. Will you hold this? Don¡¯t be scared. Nothing bad will happen. I think she wants to help you. She is nice.¡± He struggled to put so many sentences together, but keeping them all simple helped. He held the staff out for Marina to take.

    The poor woman looked up and gave him a withering look of exasperation.

    ¡°I am sorry. I know you feel bad inside,¡± said Dirt. ¡°It makes me sad. I am trying to make you happy.¡±

    ¡°Just hold it, Marina,¡± said H¨¨ctor, eyes showing more caution than his voice. ¡°Who knows what other surprises he has for us.¡± He said sorpreses but Dirt was sure it meant surprises.

    ¡°I can¡¯t handle any more surprises,¡± she muttered. But she took the staff and sat back, holding it across her lap.

    ¡°Hands¡­ tight,¡± said Dirt, indicating how he wanted her to grip it. ¡°Good. Yes.¡±

    Dirt watched her mind to try and see what Home was doing, hoping it wouldn¡¯t cause any pain. Marina noticed the pinpricks, but they were so minor she thought her hands were just sore.

    Now that he was learning the words so fast, the stream of her thoughts was easier to read than it had been a few days ago. They flew by in a long, endless thread, accompanied by other parts of her mind that gave the words meaning and context.

    She wasn¡¯t happy about the boy bothering her right now. She hated the memory of all that gore and couldn¡¯t get rid of it. She couldn¡¯t imagine how anything could cause that much carnage, or how twisted that boy was not to be bothered. She wondered if it was truly the same tower he was leading them to, if that¡¯s really what he was doing, because she was sure she¡¯d have remembered crossing mountains like these and she never did. How long was she supposed to hold this staff? Her fingers were already getting sore and she was getting sicker. She wanted to lie down. And on and on and on. Humans sure had a lot of thoughts.

    A tiny puff of dust spurted out of the staff, right toward Marina¡¯s face. Dirt saw it because he was watching, but no one else noticed. Just a puff of pale dust that swirled in the wind and vanished a heartbeat later, but Marina smelled it first. Then Dirt, then the men. A sharp scent, but pleasant.

    Her eyes widened. ¡°I feel better all of a sudden,¡± she said. ¡°What is that? What just happened?¡±

    Dirt sighed with relief that Home hadn¡¯t done something weird. ¡°My friend the tree made you get better.¡±

    ¡°A tree? This bast¨®?¡± she asked, still not quite getting it. Staff. That word must mean staff.

    ¡°This staff is part of a big tree. She watches everything. She sees the world with me.¡±

    ¡°This is alive?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Sort of. This is part of a tree that is alive. A very old, very big tree.¡±

    The humans thought that over, and the idea didn¡¯t really fit quite right with them. They knew perfectly well what a staff was, and it wasn¡¯t alive, or still part of anything.

    Ignasi idly scratched his beard and asked, ¡°How old is the tree?¡± Dirt looked at his mind and saw that the man was trying to get him to admit to being a fae or a spirit, which made him grin. He quit looking at their minds, sensing he was about to give it away.

    ¡°She is ten¡­ ten ten?¡± Dirt asked.

    ¡°Cent?¡± said Ignasi.

    Dirt counted with his fingers. ¡°Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten¡­ ten ten ten ten cent?¡±

    ¡°Si, Cent.¡± Hundred.

    ¡°Cent cent cent cent¡­¡± and then Dirt pointed at his pinky finger, the last one.

    ¡°Mil.¡± Thousand.

    ¡°She is mil, mil, mil. Three thousand.¡±

    Ignasi nodded sagely. He said, ¡°How old is the wolf?¡±

    Dirt grinned and said, ¡°A hundred days or so. He is still little.¡±

    Ignasi¡¯s eyebrows went up. ¡°Un cadell?¡± He gestured with his palm low to the ground, indicating something small.

    ¡°Si, un cadell. Un cadell petit i bonic,¡± said Dirt. Yes, a puppy. A cute little puppy.

    All three humans jerked at that and looked at him. He didn¡¯t need to read their minds to guess what they were thinking.

    Dirt said, ¡°He is a little puppy. He will get much bigger. Much, much bigger.¡± He smiled inwardly, imagining what they¡¯d think if Father suddenly appeared. They¡¯d probably fall over dead from surprise.

    Ignasi nodded, trying to hide his disquiet. He asked, ¡°How old are you?¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°I am only¡­ One, two, three¡­¡± he counted on his fingers, not knowing all the numbers.

    ¡°Eight,¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°Yes, eight. But I have only been awake for half of a hundred days. I can¡¯t remember anything before that. I have never met a human before you.¡±

    From their body language, Dirt wasn¡¯t sure any of the three believed him. They tilted their heads back slightly, almost peering at him out of the corner of their eyes. It was subtle, but it was there. Dirt suspected that he could tell because he¡¯d been practicing watching Socks, whose emotional cues were even more subtle.

    He tried not to show that their disbelief hurt him, but that little clump of sad regret was growing, becoming truer by the hour. What if no humans ever accepted him? He loved the dryads and wolves, but it stung to be rejected by his own kind.

    He asked Home for sap again and this time she produced it. The humans turned it down for reasons they didn¡¯t feel like giving, and which Dirt understood without being able to explain.

    But despite having so much happening already, it was still morning and there was plenty more walking to go. Looking down the other side of the mountain they were on, they would have to cross deep down into a gulch and then right back up another mountain just as big. How many more after that, he couldn¡¯t tell. Socks¡¯ swift legs could swallow such a journey in a matter of minutes, but it¡¯d take half the day on human feet.

    He stretched and said, ¡°Water?¡± He held the staff forward and the humans let Home refill their waterskins. H¨¨ctor even said ¡®thank you¡¯ to Home and did a fair job of not looking like he felt silly doing it. Dirt hoped that was a good sign.

    Halfway down the mountain, Dirt got tired of going around the brush and started making it move instead, bending it all out of the way like he did with the ferns. He didn¡¯t have a lot of practice with things like bushes and the ideas were different for parts of the plant that weren¡¯t normally flexible, like the solid branches. But it was close enough. The minds of the plants were honest and clear and Dirt figured it out.

    The humans discerned what was going on fairly quickly and whispered furiously amongst themselves. Dirt couldn¡¯t resist peeking at their minds for just a tiny second and saw that they were wondering if they needed to run away because they still didn¡¯t know what he was. Ignasi wanted to stay, but Marina and H¨¨ctor were ready to make escape plans. Dirt almost turned around right then and yelled at them, ¡®I am a human! Just a human boy!¡¯ But that would have given away that he could read their thoughts or hear like a wolf, and neither of those things would have helped.

    His indignation didn¡¯t last long either, because it slid out of him like water off leaves leaving only that growing sense of regret. He was too different from them. They could hardly understand each other. Dirt didn¡¯t even know what they considered normal and the only way to learn was to mess up and get it wrong.

    An idea struck him and he turned. ¡°Do you know any¡­¡± songs, he wanted to ask, but he didn¡¯t know the word. He hummed a tuneless melody and waved his hands like a little dance until they got the idea.

    ¡°Can?ons. M¨²sica,¡± said Marina.

    ¡°Yes! Music. Do you know any?¡±

    The three of them regarded him nervously, wondering if this was some new trick.

    ¡°Please?¡± he begged. ¡°I have never heard any music. Not even one¡­ can?on.¡±

    ¡°Can?¨®,¡± corrected Marina. She had a hint of pity in her face.

    ¡°Not even one can?¨®. Please?¡± Dirt leaned slightly toward her, pleading. He gripped Home and held her close to his chest. ¡°Please? I am trying to be¡­ normal boy. But my friend is a wolf. I eat bugs. I catch birds and eat with my teeth. I live everywhere.¡± He gestured all around. ¡°No people. No music. I am the only one. Just me. Please?¡±

    Ignasi grinned slyly behind his beard and whispered, ¡°Maybe we can embruixar him instead.¡±

    Marina almost chuckled, but swallowed it. He could see he was winning her over, and his heart leaped within him.

    ¡°Please?¡± Dirt begged again.

    The other two looked at H¨¨ctor, and the man shrugged and cleared his throat.

 The Druid - Chapter 8

    The song H¨¨ctor sang opened a window in Dirt¡¯s mind that he hadn¡¯t known was closed. That¡¯s what it felt like. Like light shining into one of those rooms in that old tower after throwing open the curtains. It was just a simple melody, one long, flowing line without much ornamentation, but it made Dirt breathless. His jaw hung open.

    It was so novel and exciting that Dirt hardly even heard the words, which were about a kingdom lost to time. The melody repeated itself as the song progressed and by the end, Dirt found himself humming along, his brain trying to inhale the tune like it was air and he was drowning.

    ¡°That was amazing!¡± he shouted, once it was over. H¨¨ctor just gave him a slightly embarrassed look and took a step backward. Dirt realized he¡¯d stepped right up to the man, close enough to touch him. ¡°I had no idea. Are there more songs?¡±

    H¨¨ctor¡¯s black eyes sparkled, even if the rest of his face remained stoic. ¡°I know a few more.¡±

    ¡°Please?¡± Dirt begged, clasping his hands together to keep from jumping forward to hug him.

    ¡°What do you think, Marina?¡± asked Ignasi.

    ¡°I think you should teach him a dance. How about a light-step?¡± she said, folding her arms.

    Dirt sensed there was something going on that he was missing, but he was too excited to care, or even consider looking at their minds to figure out what it was.

    ¡°I think we can do that. Give me your hand, Dirt,¡± said Ignasi. He stood back a bit from the others to leave room and held his hand out.

    Dirt jumped over and grabbed it enthusiastically. He detected a slight raise of the man¡¯s eyebrow, right before his face softened into a warm half-smile.

    ¡°No, with your other hand. Stand there, beside me,¡± said Ignasi.

    Dirt complied and lined up next to him. Ignasi lifted their interlocked hands into the air, then held his other hand out, palm up.

    ¡°Like this,¡± he said, and Dirt mirrored it. ¡°Now, watch.¡± Ignasi performed a series of steps, forward a few, then back a few, then side to side and back again. Long short short, long short short. Dirt followed along, stumbling as he tried to memorize it.

    ¡°Lift your knees more. This is a dance. Good. Now, this part is a hop. Once more. Good. That will do. Marina, will you clap for us? Whenever you¡¯re ready, H¨¨ctor.¡±

    Dirt was so nervous when the song began that he almost fell over, but Ignasi held him up and got him moving again. Marina clapped a beat for them, and each clap was a step. It took Dirt no time at all to get the hang of it and soon he was stepping as lightly as Ignasi, hardly touching the ground as they danced.

    H¨¨ctor¡¯s song was simple again, and much more repetitive. It only had two lines. The first one changed every time and told a story of a woman dancing with different men, and the second line was always the same. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure if the second line was half nonsense words or just ones he didn¡¯t know yet, but he suspected it was just sounds. Fake words.

    His pants started slipping and he panicked. Both hands were occupied, so he tried stepping really high with his knees to push them back up again. It worked for a time, but after a series of hops that Ignasi improvised and Dirt was able to follow, the waist slid down to his knees and Dirt lost his footing.

    Marina laughed so hard she stopped clapping, H¨¨ctor lost the melody, and while he didn¡¯t quite laugh, he did give up singing and grinned. Dirt let go of his panic and laughed along, his whole body dangling and contorted as he tried to pull his pants up with one hand while Ignasi kept going.

    Ignasi noticed last and just looked warmly amused. He released Dirt¡¯s hand, since a person needed both to pull his pants up.

    H¨¨ctor gave Marina a knowing look and muttered, ¡°If so, he would be a better dancer.¡± She snorted and wiped a tear from her eye, chest still shaking with quiet laughter.

    ¡°Can we keep going?¡± asked Dirt, fumbling with the knot. It hadn¡¯t come untied¡ªit simply started out too loose to begin with, which meant he had to undo the knot and re-tie it.

    Ignasi pulled a small metal cup from his pack and poured a bit of water in. ¡°Here, have a sip. Dancing makes you thirsty.¡±

    The knot wasn¡¯t coming together very quickly and Dirt was now growing embarrassed. ¡°Thanks, but I just had some a little while ago. And I filled that up, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Please, I insist. Just a little drink. Hold it in both hands, and I¡¯ll tie that for you,¡± said Ignasi. He still had on a friendly smile, but there was something in his eye that made Dirt want to look at his mind. He resisted, though. Whatever he saw there might give him away when he reacted to it.

    Dirt hesitantly took the cup in both hands like the man said and drank it. It was only a swallow or two. Then he held it, feeling awkward, as Ignasi tied the knot nice and tight.

    ¡°There,¡± said Ignasi, standing again and patting Dirt¡¯s shoulder. He took the cup and tapped him on the head with it a couple times. To the others he said, ¡°Does that answer it, then?¡± He plinked the cup with his fingernail.

    H¨¨ctor shrugged and said, ¡°He is not a fada.¡±

    Dirt wasted no time. ¡°Can we dance again? Or just listen? Do you know any other songs? How many are there?¡±

    Marina tossed aside some of her long, dark hair, which had gotten into her face. ¡°We can sing while we walk. There is plenty of daylight left.¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°Just not straight up again. No one can sing while working that hard.¡±

    Marina chuckled, still in good spirits. ¡°Agreed. Dirt, lead us on easy paths from now on. Do we need to wait for your wolf? What was his name? Socks?¡±

    Dirt smiled, almost reaching to hold her hand before he started walking. It was still a habit after spending so much time with the dryads, especially Callius. ¡°Socks. And we don¡¯t need to worry. He will find us when he wants to.¡±

    But just in case, Dirt sent out the thought, ¡°Socks, are you having fun? I just heard music! They¡¯ll sing some for us while we walk, and maybe more later.¡±

    -I am having fun. I found cattle. Now they are mad at me.-

    ¡°Don¡¯t let them poke you with their horns,¡± replied Dirt, following it with a puff of affection.

    -They are too slow.-

    ¡°What does this mean, Socks?¡± asked H¨¨ctor. ¡°Does his name have a meaning?¡±

    Dirt blinked twice before he remembered they weren¡¯t part of the conversation. ¡°It means¡­¡± Dirt squatted down at pulled up H¨¨ctor¡¯s pant leg, just far enough to expose his worn leather shoes. ¡°It means this,¡± said Dirt, tugging at the sock inside it. ¡°Because his front paws are white.¡±

    ¡°Mitjons? Him? That terrifying beast? Who could ever dare name him mitjons?¡± asked H¨¨ctor, in total disbelief. The man¡¯s hard face almost looked pale.

    ¡°Mitjons in my language is socks, and that¡¯s his name. I named him. And besides, he named me¡­ my name means¡­ this stuff.¡± Dirt bent down and tried to grab a handful of dirt, but the ground was too hard and he only got a pinch.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Brut¨ªcia?¡± asked Marina, horrified. ¡°Your name is la brut¨ªcia?¡±

    ¡°Yep! And I like it. It¡¯s a good name.¡±

    ¡°La brut¨ªcia,¡± muttered Ignasi.

    ¡°Why brut¨ªcia?¡± asked Marina. She seemed almost hurt.

    ¡°Because I was covered in dirt when we met,¡± said Dirt. ¡°The dirt there is black and thick and it gets all over me.¡±

    ¡°Is that all?¡± asked Ignasi. ¡°Just Dirt?¡±

    ¡°I have another name, but I like Dirt, so call me that. My best friend gave it to me. My other name is Avitus, though.¡±

    Ignasi laughed at this, a short guffaw that the others didn¡¯t emulate. Then he paused. ¡°Wait, Avitus? Is your other name really Avitus, or was that a joke?¡±

    Marina said, ¡°He sure doesn¡¯t look like an avitus.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what¡¯s an avitus?¡± Dirt asked. They were saying the word in a way that didn¡¯t sound like a name.

    H¨¨ctor¡¯s brusque demeanor had been softening, slowly, but now the man had his walls back up. ¡°Why is your name Avitus? Tell us now.¡±

    ¡°H¨¨ctor, come, there is no way,¡± said Marina.

    ¡°The stories come from somewhere! Now tell us, why are you Avitus?¡±

    Dirt stammered. ¡°It¡¯s just my name? What¡¯s wrong with Avitus in your language? In mine it just means¡­ like an old man. Sort of.¡±

    Marina huffed and said, ¡°An avitus is a monster. He is shaped like a man in a cloak, but his skin is purple. He walks into a town telling everyone what to do, and if they don¡¯t, maleeix el poble i despr¨¦s marxa.¡± He somethings the town and leaves.

    H¨¨ctor continued, ¡°The town will be destroyed soon after. Monsters will come, or a fire, or a terratr¨¨mol. Everyone will die. So tell me, why are you named Avitus?¡±

    Dirt froze. Somehow they remembered. Part of his story remained. The echo of his breaking the world still sounded in the ears of the living, three thousand years later. It wasn¡¯t complete, not the real story, but it wasn¡¯t too far off, and not even he knew what the real story was. Prisca hadn¡¯t, even though she blamed him. She¡¯d seen before and after. She¡¯d watched everything decay and fall apart. Rampant destruction, sparing only a few buildings like her Schola. No one to clean the corpses from the streets, no one to bring fresh food. She had become that abomination only a few years later, watching from her windows as the weeds grew, as gardens burst out of their fences, as the last few buildings tumbled into bricks when vines pulled them down. And then, finally, the trees, imprisoning her.

    ¡°Stop it, H¨¨ctor, you¡¯re going to make him cry!¡± said Marina. ¡°Come on, Dirt. No one thinks you are really an avitus. There are no such things.¡±

    ¡°I just want to hear what he says, Marina. It is a simple question,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    Dirt almost lied then. He felt the falsehood on his tongue and clicked his teeth shut to keep it in. Lying would damage him. He knew it instinctively. Too much of what he was depended on truth for him to risk putting a lie into the world.

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember my parents, or why they named me Avitus. No one even calls me that. I am only Dirt now,¡± he finally said.

    ¡°H¨¨ctor,¡± said Ignasi. ¡°You know what the wilds are like. There is a reason everyone is dying and it is not him. He is not a fada and he is not an avitus. That gryphon would have killed us, and if not, then the wolf, surely. Let us be glad he is helping.¡±

    The pale-haired man scowled back, his black eyes smoldering as he thought it over.

    ¡°He is a boy, H¨¨ctor,¡± said Marina. She sounded stern, but still somehow pleading. ¡°A human boy. After all, we have seen his polla.¡±

    H¨¨ctor snorted and grinned, then turned away to look into the distance.

    ¡°Marina!¡± said Ignasi, in exaggerated fashion. ¡°We must not teach the boy bad words!¡±

    Dirt timidly asked, ¡°What¡¯s a polla?¡±

    ¡°See what you have done? You and H¨¨ctor are going to ruin him,¡± said Ignasi. He scratched his beard, then made a forward flicking motion. ¡°Go, boy. Start walking before they teach you something else, like tifarada or sucar.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what are those?¡± Dirt asked. He suddenly wished he¡¯d been watching their minds after all.

    That got a guffaw out of H¨¨ctor, the most emotion Dirt had seen out of him so far, and Dirt determined he wasn¡¯t going to get an answer. Oh well. The words would come up again eventually, he was sure.

    Dirt turned and resumed walking downhill, taking an easier route this time so he didn¡¯t have to bend any bushes out of the way. That whole conversation could have gone worse, he knew. He might be close to winning them over and that lifted his spirits. He didn¡¯t get far before he started singing the first song to himself. Just the music, since he couldn¡¯t remember the words, but he sang the melody.

    At the bottom of the incline, in the small, high valley between the two mountains, Marina cut in with a different tune. She stepped up to walk alongside him instead of behind and smiled down every so often when she could spare a glance away from the path. She didn¡¯t sing loudly, or even clearly. Dirt could hear that she was a little under or over the note sometimes, but he didn¡¯t care. She sang one song after another, too many for Dirt to remember, as she helped him pick an easier path. It turned out that meant going sideways up the hill at an angle instead of straight over, which Dirt had never considered.

    Near the top of the next hill, Socks snuck up from behind, perfectly silently. He crept behind them, far enough back to make sure they never saw his shadow. Dirt didn¡¯t look back, so as to avoid giving him away.

    -Is that music? Is she singing?-

    ¡°Yep! I finally get to hear music.¡±

    -It doesn¡¯t sound like much. It¡¯s just like talking, but longer.-

    Dirt sent a puff of amusement. ¡°Well, I still like it. I bet you¡¯ll like dancing. We¡¯ll do that later. Did you bring any cattle?¡±

    -No, they are too heavy.-

    ¡°Really?¡±

    -They¡¯re too big to carry in my teeth like Father, and when I carry them with my mind it makes my feet sore.-

    ¡°Oh. Well, maybe next time you can just bring a part, and I¡¯ll have them put it on the fire just for you.¡±

    -I should have thought of that,- said Socks. -In fact, I¡¯ll be back in a bit.-

    The landscape turned from mountains into all hills, with lots of big dips curved valleys filled with pale blue and gray brush and yellow grass. Dirt wondered why no trees grew in this area, but he wasn¡¯t good enough with their thoughts to ask any and Home was too far away. The hills weren¡¯t as tiring as the mountainside had been, and Marina kept a steady pace, never slowing down.

    Socks rejoined them a while later, after they¡¯d crossed through the hilly spot and gotten to a rocky area with tall pines that kept everything in shadow. The trees were all way too short, but it still felt like the real forest, which Dirt appreciated.

    The pup crept up silently behind H¨¨ctor, who was walking last, and huffed in his hair. The man glanced backward and screamed, almost falling forward. Dirt couldn¡¯t help but laugh, even though none of the others thought it was as funny. Socks dropped the rear legs of a bull he was carrying with a heavy thud and stood there looking pleased with himself. He leaned down and sniffed poor H¨¨ctor. The wolf had indeed bathed somewhere, and only had blood around his muzzle from, presumably, killing cattle.

    ¡°Socks! Don¡¯t tease them!¡± said Dirt aloud, in their language, laughter in his voice. He ran back to say hello.

    ¡°Mitjons,¡± muttered H¨¨ctor, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°Mitjons.¡±

    ¡°Not mitjons, H¨¨ctor. Socks,¡± said Ignasi, teasing.

    Socks lifted Dirt, gave him a good lick, and set him down again. Then he dipped his snout so Dirt could hug him, just above the nose. Ignasi stepped over and said, ¡°Can I pet him?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t ask me,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Lord Socks, the great and powerful, may I scratch your neck?¡± said Ignasi, in high spirits. Dirt glanced at the man¡¯s mind, unable to resist anymore, and found that it was sincere. He¡¯d gone too far beyond fear to turn back now, because what would be the point?

    ---How come you don¡¯t call me that?- said Socks.

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve met your parents,¡± replied Dirt.

    The pup huffed in amusement and lay his head down. -Tell this human he is allowed to scratch my neck because he has good manners.-

    Dirt chuckled and said, ¡°Okay, Ignasi, go ahead.¡±

    To the surprise of both Socks and Dirt, the man didn¡¯t ease into it. Instead, he jumped in, rubbing his face in the fur and scratching deep with both arms.

    Marina was next, and rather than ask, she tepidly reached forward with one arm, only really giving some good scratches after she wasn¡¯t bitten. H¨¨ctor didn¡¯t follow the others, choosing instead to stand apart and look like he was being wary of possible encroaching dangers. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure he believed it.

    Socks closed his eyes and enjoyed the fine treatment. Dirt directed them to all the pup¡¯s favorite spots, then said, ¡°Just stop whenever you¡¯re done. If you wait until he stops you, you¡¯ll scratch until your arms fall off.¡±

    --You didn¡¯t have to tell them that.-

    ¡°Yes I did.¡±

    Clouds rolled in that evening, covering the darkening sky with a blanket of deep gray that hid the stars. They stopped for the night earlier than they wanted, but there was no way to keep going unless they held hands and followed Socks, who could still see just fine. Dirt considered making a light but decided against it, since H¨¨ctor was still unsure whether or not Dirt was human and there was no reason to tip the scales in the wrong direction.

    The men carved up the rear legs of the bull with their knives, explaining that it would take too long to cook otherwise. Even so, they had to build a wide fire and make stands from branches to put the meat on while it cooked. H¨¨ctor cleverly cut the meat into big flaps, which were big enough for Socks to feel like he was getting more than a tiny snack with each piece.

    While the meat was cooking, the three adults took turns singing songs. It was too dark to do any dancing, but in the orange glow they could still clap along and spend the evening in good spirits.

    Neither Socks nor Dirt were sure if they liked the meat better cooked than raw, but it was still delicious, and a nice break from too much sap. Tomorrow, they¡¯d finally see the tower. Dirt drifted off hoping they wouldn¡¯t decide he was an avitus after all once they did.

 The Druid - Chapter 9

    Although Socks had chosen a tougher path through the mountains than the canyon stream would have been, when Dirt finally crested the final hill and saw the flat, river-strewn valley below, they were much closer to the ruins than the first time. Solitary and bleak, the off-white tower stood like a skeleton above the dead and silent town in the middle of the valley. All around it, damp greens and muddy browns swirled across the landscape between numerous winding streams and ponds.

    ¡°There it is!¡± said Dirt, pointing with a proud smile. ¡°See, I told you Socks and I knew where it was.¡±

    But despite Dirt¡¯s encouragement, the humans felt no enthusiasm. Their steps slowed and stopped, their feet unwilling to carry them any farther. He didn¡¯t have to look into their minds to guess their thoughts.

    Socks stepped up and sniffed the two men, which made them less scared each time, then huffed. They glanced back, hiding their nervousness.

    ¡°It¡¯s not completely ruined. There¡¯s still plenty of stuff there, just no people,¡± said Dirt. ¡°If we hurry, we can sleep in¡­ Um, they¡¯re like this, with soft¡­¡± He tried to gesture with his hands.

    ¡°Llits. You mean a llit?¡± asked Marina. Dirt glanced momentarily at her mind to see what she was picturing, and it was indeed a bed.

    ¡°Yes, a bed,¡± he said. ¡°Lots of houses are still fine. There are just no people.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m more concerned about the people, Dirt,¡± said Marina.

    Dirt shut his mouth to keep from saying anything that would bother her. He guessed she wasn¡¯t really upset about the people, because it¡¯s not like she¡¯d lived there or known anybody. It was just a place she passed through once, twenty years ago or more. She was probably upset about whatever had killed them all.

    But looking out across the valley, no goblin armies were in evidence. Some birds floated on the water or flew over the fields, but nothing else moved. If there was any game down there, it was hiding until nightfall. He couldn¡¯t think of anything appropriate to say, so he just started walking again, and fortunately, they followed.

    He¡¯d gone about six steps before Socks lifted him up and tossed him onto his perch on the pup¡¯s back. -I smell cattle down there. Let¡¯s go find them.-

    Dirt hardly had time to shout, ¡°We¡¯ll meet you there!¡± before the pup took off at a run.

    After several days on his feet, it felt nice to be riding again. Socks was of the same mind and went ever faster, so fast Dirt had to lay down and hang on before they¡¯d even reached the valley floor. He sent a puff of affection and happiness to the pup, and that was easier than talking could ever be.

    A sudden leap got a squeal out of him, followed by manic laughter when he lost his grip with his toes and was only able to hang on with one hand until the pup landed again.

    The second jump was less of a surprise, but Socks landed in a pond, right in the center of a flock of ducks. The poor birds honked and flapped their hardest to flee while Socks gnashed his teeth at them, but it was just for fun, so he let them get away.

    The water was shallow enough for Socks to run through, so he did, splashing the whole way with infectious enthusiasm. From there it was up the muddy bank and into the tall grass, which his long legs had no problem with, and off toward the far end of the valley.

    ¡°Was there really any cattle?¡± Dirt asked. ¡°Or did you just want to play?¡±

    Socks just sent back a puff of amusement.

    ¡°Well, either way, I was ready to play. Should I sing a song?¡±

    -Of all the things the humans could teach you, why did they pick how to be noisier?-

    Dirt chuckled. ¡°Just think of it as a human howl.¡±

    -Well, it is good at warning everyone to go away.-

    Socks carried him over a broad patch of flat, swampy ground, probably half the size of that town, where the water was only a fingernail¡¯s breadth thick and the mud a foot deep. Clouds of insects swarmed everywhere, but the happy wolf scattered them just with the wind of his passing. Larger bugs hunted down the little ones, and birds darted back and forth trying to catch those. Dirt was sure there would be snakes around somewhere hoping to catch a bird, and something else that ate snakes.

    Nothing around that ate wolves, though, even little puppy ones. Actually, now that he thought about it, ¡°Socks, how far away do you have to go every couple weeks to keep the Devourer from finding you? Is it bad that we came back here after a few days?¡±

    The pup slowed slightly and started taking an easier path, which Dirt knew meant he was focusing on something else. Probably asking Mother, in fact. And sure enough, a moment later, the pup said, --I¡¯ll be fine for another few days but we should move on after that. And we¡¯ll need to go pretty far. A couple days run, and then we can relax again.-

    ¡°Oh, okay. Good. I hope I never find out what the Devourer is.¡±

    -Me, too. If he appears then both of us will regret it.-

    ¡°Do you think I can learn how to lick wounds?¡±

    -Not until you get better at magic. It¡¯s not something natural for you, so you¡¯d have to figure it out the complicated way.-

    ¡°I wonder if the dryads can teach me. They can put wounds back together.¡±

    -Do you really want to find out what method they¡¯d use to teach you?-

    Dirt grinned at that. ¡°I¡¯d get to find out what color all my guts are, I bet.¡±

    -And how much blood you can lose before you pass out. And what it¡¯s like to be dead.-

    Sure enough, a while later they reached the far end of the valley where a big herd of red-furred cattle were grazing. They weren¡¯t happy about Socks¡¯ arrival and the big males stamped their hooves and snorted at him, even though they were half his size. The others raced to get into a circle, thinking to protect their young inside it.

    For a smaller predator, that might have worked. Had Dirt been on foot, a stamping bull would have terrified him. The entire thing was pure muscle, hoof, and horn. For all he knew, it could outrace him even if he used mana.

    But Socks had little trouble with them and made it a game. Each time one charged with sharp horns lowered, he deftly stepped out of the way, or jumped over it, or some such thing. The pup was having so much fun playing with the bulls that Dirt found himself laughing uproariously each time one missed. The bulls themselves just got angrier and angrier, and the cows huddled ever close together around their calves.

    After a while, they stopped charging, although they kept trying to threaten him with snorts and waves of their horns. Once the game was over, Socks leaped on one and sank his teeth into the back of its shoulders, then pulled it to the ground. Then, in a flash, he ripped its throat out and jumped back to avoid the spurting blood.

    The animal heroically regained its feet and tried to charge, but it was done for and only made it a few steps before it stumbled and fell. It wasn¡¯t long before it quit breathing.

    Two other bulls tried to keep Socks away from their fallen friend, but a couple threatening barks made them keep their distance. He ripped the stomach open and lifted the rest of the carcass with his teeth to let all the guts fall out, then set it aside while he dug around for the good bits. He always ate the hearts, even though Dirt thought the meat was too tough to be enjoyable, and some bits of the lungs and liver.

    -Do you not want any?-

    ¡°Not right now. I don¡¯t want to get my pants bloody. I need to ask the humans if clothes can be washed, and how, and maybe get a backpack. I also need to tie the staff on something so I don¡¯t have to hold it all the time.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    -I want a backpack too, so I can carry things.-

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    -I¡¯ll know it when I see it.-

    After Socks ate all the innards he liked, he got started on the meat. The smell of blood and flesh made Dirt¡¯s mouth water, but the ground was an absolute mess. Dirt didn¡¯t even dare get down and try to cut a piece off with his knife, so he asked Home for some sap and ate that instead.

    The remaining cattle found that Socks wasn¡¯t a threat to the rest of them, at least not immediately, and stopped trying to scare him off. Instead, they decided this wasn¡¯t a good place to be and the whole herd shuffled off somewhere else. The ground was so flat there was nowhere to hide, but Dirt figured they were stupid so he shouldn¡¯t expect too much.

    After a hot, sweaty nap in the bright sunshine, they took a pleasant dip in a nearby pond. Dirt had to summon more wind to keep the bugs away, and when he pulled his pants back on afterward, they got all wet, which made them cling uncomfortably to his skin, but it did keep him cool for a while as they dried.

    Socks didn¡¯t run back, preferring a light trot. -Do you mind if we take our time going back?-

    ¡°Not at all. You want to spend time with just me, huh? I like them, but I like this more, if I have to choose.¡±

    -Yes. The humans are tiring.-

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    The pup looked back to glance at Dirt with one eye, which he rarely did, since what was the point if they could read each other¡¯s minds? Dirt sent him a puff of affection and said, ¡°You can tell me. I won¡¯t be upset at all.¡±

    Socks resumed looking forward and took a little hop over another muddy patch in between tangled grasses. -They smell like fear too much. It makes me want to find out what they taste like.-

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dirt, but it took a moment for that to sink in.

    -I didn¡¯t eat them for your sake, but for the first couple days, it was hard. That¡¯s one reason I ran off to find some cattle. And it was nice to kill all those goblins. When something around me acts like prey, I want to bite it. I look at them and they shy away, and it makes me want to chase them. I sniff them and they freeze, and it makes me want to growl and watch them run.-

    ¡°I had no idea. I¡¯m sorry, Socks. We didn¡¯t have to hang around them if it was hard for you.¡±

    -No. You must be the best human, and I will be the best wolf. Where else will you learn, if not from humans? And besides, I could see how much you wanted them to like you.-

    ¡°I guess I could have told them not to be scared.¡±

    -You did, several times.-

    ¡°I could have told them not to be scared, or you might eat them.¡±

    That got a huge burst of amusement from Socks, so much he might have guffawed if he was human. Instead he just ran a little faster, his mind sparking with good humor. -That seems unlikely to work.-

    ¡°You never know until you try!¡±

    -Don¡¯t. I was more relieved than they were when they finally dared scratch my fur.-

    ¡°Well, thanks again for being so patient. You were right. I really want them to like me, because if I can be their friend, then maybe I can be friends with any other humans, too. And if I can¡¯t, then I don¡¯t know what to think.¡±

    -I am older than you. It is important to be patient with the young.-

    ¡°I¡¯m thousands of years old, and you¡¯re still a baby!¡±

    -Oh? Were you one day old when I found you, or two?-

    The run back was full of banter and joking, and it seemed like all the funny things they¡¯d wanted to say over the last several days were now coming out. The sun edged down toward the horizon, casting the valley into the gold of early twilight. Birds flew everywhere, white cranes and black ducks, sparrows and songbirds of every variety. Skinny little ones with long legs that liked the water and bright red ones with black heads that liked the grasses. Dirt had never seen so many in one place.

    Other things crept out of their holes as well, tiny fearful beasts that snuck through the grass or crept up to the water for a sip. When Socks and Dirt realized they weren¡¯t going to make it to the tower before nightfall at this pace, Socks used ghost sight to find the humans. His mind filled with the lightless grays and blacks of the spirit world, as he perceived it, and searched high and low for their echoes.

    As always, Dirt had to quickly close himself off because there was simply too much for him to process. Socks could view almost the whole valley at once, but that meant looking at every part of it all at the same time, and Dirt¡¯s little human brain simply couldn¡¯t handle it. Mother and Father could look even farther than that, although Socks wasn¡¯t quite clear on how they did it or if they used something else.

    But Socks found them, and the way he showed it was sprinting forward as hard as he could, running so fast Dirt didn¡¯t dare lift his head lest the wind yank him away.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    -There are some goblins hunting them. I don¡¯t think they realize yet.-

    ¡°Really? Where did they come from? I didn¡¯t see a single thing!¡±

    -The goblins must have been in the mountains. I smelled some around but I thought they were far away. The humans haven¡¯t made it very far yet. They aren¡¯t even halfway to the tower.-

    Socks ran faster than Dirt ever remembered him going, so fast he had to use his claws to dig in the dirt to propel himself forward. It wasn¡¯t even a run anymore¡ªeach time a paw hit the ground, it may as well have been another leap.

    Even at such a pace, it still felt slow.

    -They are fighting now.-

    Socks couldn¡¯t go any faster, and despite the speed it felt like an eternity. Dirt counted every breath, every heartbeat. Ten. Fifty. A hundred. Two hundred. Were they even still alive?

    Another fifty breaths. Dirt was sure they were dead, and Socks was watching the path too closely to want to talk.

    Ten more. Eleven.

    And then they were there. Socks skidded to a stop with a goblin in his teeth and tossed Dirt next to another one with his mind.

    ¡°Boy?¡± said a goblin. ¡°Me¡ª¡±

    Dirt crushed its skull with the staff, even though it blocked with both arms. Home simply broke those too.

    There was only one more, and H¨¨ctor was the one who killed it with a deep gash to its neck. ¡°Boy, boy, boy, wah-mee!¡± he shouted at its dying corpse. Then, in his language, ¡°Die and go to infern!¡±

    ¡°Are you okay?!¡± Dirt shouted.

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°Ignasi took a bite on the arm, and Marina on the stomach. The rest is bruises.¡±

    ¡°Oh, thank Grace!¡± said Dirt, not knowing their word for Grace. Or his, for that matter. What did that mean and why did he keep saying it?

    But the three of them didn¡¯t share his relief. Ignasi looked worried and he yanked a cloth from his backpack to try and staunch the bleeding on his forearm. Marina looked pale, her eyes bleary, her lips taut. Her hands trembled. She looked down at her stomach and Dirt saw a tear drip and fall.

    All three humans had the same thought, when he looked at their minds for clarification: She is going to die. Ignasi will lose his arm.

    The humans had killed at least five other goblins, judging from the corpses. It wasn¡¯t even a big group, and if Ignasi and Marina just got bit a little, they were both fine.

    ¡°Looks like you would have been fine without us,¡± said Dirt, trying to find something conciliatory. Why did they think she was going to die? She wasn¡¯t even bleeding that much. Dirt had had worse.

    ¡°Barely,¡± spat H¨¨ctor. ¡°I wish you had not ruined my sword.¡±

    He discarded it, tossing it on the ground. The blade was broken, about a handspan up from the hilt.

    Dirt said, ¡°We didn¡¯t break it. Socks threw it to you in one piece.¡±

    H¨¨ctor glanced at Socks, clearly trying to decide how much he dared say. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what you did with it. I have never seen a sword so abused. We can discuss it later, if you wish. If it even matters.¡±

    He pulled a length of cloth from Marina¡¯s pack and gestured to her to lift her shirt, which she did, just under her breasts. The bite on her side was bad, but the goblin hadn¡¯t taken a chunk out. It got its teeth in, was all.

    ¡°How bad is it?¡± she asked, her heart breaking. Dirt saw even her desperation slipping away into black despair, and quit viewing her thoughts.

    H¨¨ctor stuck a finger into one of the tooth marks, all the way up to the first knuckle. ¡°They got all the way in. I¡¯m sorry, Marina.¡±

    She looked away. Her chest shook with sobs she repressed.

    ¡°I¡¯m confused,¡± said Dirt. ¡°It¡¯s not that bad.¡±

    H¨¨ctor scowled. ¡°Goblin bites always fester. Soon those tooth cuts will turn red. Then they will fill with pus. Then they will turn green. Then her insides will rot, and she will die in horrible pain. We will wait with her until the pain is too much, and then end it for pity¡¯s sake. If we are lucky, we can make it to the tower and she can die in a bed. Ignasi will survive, but we will have to take his arm off. It is that bad.¡±

    The Home-staff twitched toward Marina, and Dirt looked carefully at it to see the white threads pointing at her again. ¡°Oh, you want to touch her again?¡± he asked, in his language. The staff twitched again.

    Dirt looked up. ¡°I think you¡¯ll both be fine,¡± he said. Ignasi gave him a half-hearted smile and Marina tried to do the same and failed.

    ¡°Ignasi, ask Socks nicely if he¡¯ll lick your arm. He¡¯s friendly. I promise. You¡¯ll get better if he does,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°And Marina¡­¡± Dirt looked at the staff again. The white threads were all gathered toward the top of the staff, bunches of them. ¡°Can you lay down?¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°Dirt, this had better not be a game or a trick.¡±

    Socks huffed and gave just the barest hint of a growl. -The stupid human should shut up if he wants our help.-

    Dirt grinned and said, ¡°Socks says, ¡®shut up, stupid human.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Boy¡ª¡±

    ¡°H¨¨ctor, are you a slow learner? Marina, will you please lie down? And Ignasi, better ask him fast while he¡¯s in a good mood,¡± said Dirt. He gestured at the ground, inviting Marina to hurry up and place herself upon it.

    Marina put her hand on H¨¨ctor¡¯s arm to calm him down, then lay down without a word where Dirt had indicated. She cleared her clothing out of the way of her wound, which dripped lines of blood that gathered under her side and started to pool together. She closed her eyes.

    ¡°Okay. Don¡¯t move. It usually doesn¡¯t hurt but it does feel weird,¡± said Dirt. Then he knelt beside her and lay the staff against the wound. She hissed faintly, but he was being gentle so it was probably surprise.

    The threads plunged into her skin and disappeared. They pulled the staff tighter against her, and that did look like it stung. She grit her teeth and didn¡¯t say anything, though.

    Dirt carefully let go of the staff, letting the other end rest on the ground while it did its work. He stood and gave a scolding look at Ignasi and pointed at Socks.

    But Marina gasped, and Dirt looked down again to see the Home-staff changing shape, twisting and spreading out on the ground searching for something. One of the root-like vines found a clump of grass and a moment later, Marina vanished completely. The staff turned straight again and clattered to the ground.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dirt.

 The Druid - Chapter 10

    The men were too stunned to speak. Ignasi even dropped the cloth he was holding over the bite. Socks snuck in and started licking the wound, and it took three licks for Ignasi to notice and react. ¡°Thank you, friend,¡± he said, patting the big pup¡¯s nose. But his eyes were still on the empty space on the ground where Marina had been laying, and so was his mind.

    H¨¨ctor stepped onto the vacant spot, but gently, as if he thought she might be invisible. She wasn¡¯t, though. She was truly gone. He turned with a look of horror to Dirt and asked, ¡°What have you done with her?¡±

    Dirt picked up the staff. ¡°I¡­ well, it¡¯s hard to explain. But she¡¯ll be fine!¡± he said. Then, quietly, to himself, he added, ¡°probably.¡±

    H¨¨ctor¡¯s eyes burned with unhealthy intensity. ¡°Please try.¡±

    ¡°Okay, do you remember when I said this was part of a big tree? And she was my friend? Well, one thing the trees can do, is make you travel through the, uh¡­¡± Dirt didn¡¯t know the word for roots, so he pulled up a tuft of grass and pointed. ¡°These.¡±

    ¡°Arrels?¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    Dirt peeked at his mind just to make sure and said, ¡°Yes, arrels. They all touch each other underground, sort of, and that¡¯s how they talk.¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°Trees do not talk, little Dirt.¡± He got one last lick from Socks and looked down at his forearm in confusion.

    ¡°They do. Everything with a mind can talk, somehow,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Trees do not have a mind. They cannot think. They are just trees,¡± said Ignasi. He held his arm up and looked at it, finally losing that glazed look in his eyes. His poor mind steadied itself. He realized he wasn¡¯t bleeding anymore.

    ¡°Shows what you know. Is your arm better?¡±

    ¡°H¨¨ctor!¡± said Ignasi, holding his arm out.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Look at my arm!¡±

    ¡°In a moment. Dirt, where is Marina? Where is she?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ she¡¯s in the forest. Far, far away. But they¡¯ll give her back soon. Maybe in just a day or two, once they¡­¡± Dirt paused. He¡¯d almost said ¡®learn everything they wanted to from her.¡¯ Instead he said, ¡°Once they are sure she will be fine.¡± Which was probably also true.

    ¡°H¨¨ctor, look at my arm. The bleeding stopped. I think I can keep it,¡± said Ignasi, trying to sound calm, but with so many mental shocks one after the other, he was close to manic.

    ¡°Dirt, you must give her back,¡± said H¨¨ctor. Dirt looked at his mind again, and it turned out the man¡¯s primary concern was that she was the one who knew where they were going, and without her, all of this was pointless. There was more to it, but the man¡¯s mind was in such a chaotic state that Dirt doubted H¨¨ctor understood better than he did.

    ¡°Okay! I¡¯ll give her back. Let¡¯s go to the tower first, okay? Can you walk?¡±

    H¨¨ctor started to say something angry, even raising his fist, but a quick huff from Socks changed his mind. He glanced nervously at the big pup and lowered his fist again. At that moment, he seemed to regain control of his wits. The wildness in his eyes faded and left only pain behind. His hands shook from overstress, but he stood straighter and took a deep breath. Then another. He relaxed, slightly.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, H¨¨ctor. I know how scary goblins can be. One time, I got punched by a goblin so hard it cracked the bones in my face. Right here,¡± said Dirt, pointing at the area around his eye. ¡°It hurt every night until Socks¡¯ Mother fixed it. Look.¡±

    H¨¨ctor looked unconvinced, so Dirt pulled his cheek back with one finger to show the three missing teeth on that side. ¡°See? It knocked some of my teeth out.¡±

    The man leaned down for a closer look, lifting Dirt¡¯s chin. He scowled and sighed, but didn¡¯t say anything. Then he finally went over to look at Ignasi¡¯s arm. He pulled at the tooth-marks, looking in to see how deep they still were.

    ¡°Socks licked it, so it¡¯ll get better by tomorrow. He does that to me all the time. I get cut a lot,¡± said Dirt.

    Ignasi smiled, but it was a bit forced. The man still had too much fire and sparks in his blood to fully relax, but at least he was in control of himself.

    H¨¨ctor exhaled loudly, still trying to relax the rest of the way. It wasn¡¯t easy so far. ¡°I think I could use a drink.¡±

    ¡°Oh, are you out of water?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°No. I want vi.¡±

    ¡°Vi? Vi¡­ Oh, vinum! Wine.¡± The word was close to Dirt¡¯s language and H¨¨ctor¡¯s eyes lit up, telling him he¡¯d guessed correctly.

    ¡°Can your staff make wine?¡± asked H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°No, but I bet I know where you can find some.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    Dirt pointed toward the tower. ¡°They killed all the people, but they only burned some of the houses. There¡¯s lots of stuff there still. I found these pants, so I bet someone had wine.¡±

    Ignasi asked, ¡°Did you find some? Did you already drink it?¡±

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t look. I forgot it existed until now,¡± said Dirt. And rather than explain, he turned and started toward the tower. The men fell in line behind him.

    They¡¯d picked a terrible spot to try and cross, it turned out. Maybe it looked straight, or maybe they were being chased by goblins and not paying attention. Whatever the reason, they had to contend with tangled shrubs, then a wide, waist-deep lake with thick mud underneath. On the other side of the lake was a sort of grass with thick stalks and tufts of fur at the top, which were taller than Dirt was. Taller than Ignasi and H¨¨ctor, too, it turned out.

    However, Dirt discovered that he could run and jump against the tall grass and it would break his fall and flatten, without even having to use mana. Then Socks had to try and leaped right over the three humans to land with a heavy thump. He rolled over and got up, having flattened a sizable area. Then he leaned over and fell to his side, flattening even more.

    Dirt cheered, then ran and jumped again, flattening more. Between him and Socks, H¨¨ctor and Ignasi didn¡¯t even have to push any out of the way. It wasn¡¯t as fast, but it was a lot more fun. The two men were even smiling by the end.

    After exiting the tall grass they had to deal with mud again, or short grass that grew in mud, or small, scarcely-moving streams. One thing after another and none of it easy to cross.

    Dirt kept picking up the pace to make sure they made it to town before nightfall, but even after pushing as fast as they could go, they didn¡¯t. Once it got too dark for human eyes, Socks moved to the front and led the way himself, since he could still see just fine. The next hour was spent wide-eyed for the rest of them, walking with a shuffle-step to keep from tripping.

    The last section of the journey happened under a bright moon, though, once it finally came up. The moonlight almost ignited the pale tower, causing it to shine brightly against the surrounding dark blues and grays and beckon them onward.

    The town was just as Dirt and Socks had left it a couple days ago¡ªsilent and still except for crickets and birds. Rather than cheer for joy, which Dirt had almost expected, the men slowed and grew somber as they walked past house after quiet house.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°This is not a good place,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°It is a place for the dead.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°I mean that it is a place of fantasmes,¡± he said.

    ¡°What¡¯s that? What¡¯s a fantasma?¡±

    Ignasi answered, wearing a brave but insincere half-smile. ¡°It means someone who has died. Their body is dead, but their fantasma still walks.¡±

    Dirt swallowed the rush of fear that filled him. The word must mean skeletons. The dark wasn¡¯t so scary, not with Socks around anyway, but all the same, the shadows under the moonlight suddenly took on a much more sinister hue. He said, ¡°Does that happen a lot with dead humans? Do they get up and walk around?¡±

    H¨¨ctor¡¯s black eyes were deeper-set than Ignasi¡¯s, which made them disappear into shadow to leave him looking like a skull. He glanced around and unconvincingly said, ¡°Of course not. Just their fantasmes, if their bodies are not buried.¡±

    ¡°A fantasma is inside you, right?¡± asked Dirt, pointing at his chest. Not that it would do any good in terms of clarifying.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°Okay, then I¡¯ve seen at least one walking around.¡±

    The man spun to face him. ¡°Here?¡±

    ¡°No, in the forest.¡±

    ¡°The forest where Marina is?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well, it¡¯s a big forest, and that one¡¯s dead for good,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Socks, do you hear anything moving? Any underground scratches?¡±

    Socks raised his head and turned it this way and that. He tilted his ears toward the ground. -No. Just bugs and critters.-

    ¡°Okay, will you tell me if¡ª¡±

    -Of course I will tell you, silly Dirt.-

    ¡°Nope, he doesn¡¯t hear anything.¡±

    ¡°You cannot hear them until it¡¯s too late,¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°No, Socks will hear for sure. They¡¯re not that quiet,¡± said Dirt, trying to remember whether he¡¯d seen Prisca hovering at one point. He didn¡¯t think so.

    The men chose not to argue, and ultimately neither they nor Dirt were much comforted. The town might be safe, or it might not. He had to admit that he had a habit of waking up sleeping dangers everywhere he went.

    H¨¨ctor asked, ¡°Dirt, you said goblins killed everyone, right? How do you know?¡±

    ¡°From the dead goblins we saw.¡±

    ¡°How do you know they killed everyone, I mean?¡±

    ¡°I guess I don¡¯t know. But there were a lot of skulls in the pile.¡±

    ¡°Can you show me?¡±

    ¡°Sure, it¡¯s just in the tower. You can just walk right in and look.¡±

    Ignasi butted in and said, ¡°I think I don¡¯t want to see that right before I go to bed. We should find a spot to sleep, and deal with the dead in the morning. And if a fantasma comes to snatch us in the night, so be it.¡±

    Dirt helpfully said, ¡°Just so you know, some of the houses have bodies in them. Not everybody got killed in the tower.¡±

    Ignasi shuddered. ¡°Let¡¯s find a graner, then.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Where animals sleep.¡±

    Dirt didn¡¯t know what that meant, since animals sleep in all kinds of places, but the men searched nearby until they found one. A barn, it turned out. Graner meant barn. And it wasn¡¯t much of one, just three walls and a roof of wooden shingles.

    But the ground was flat and the grass growing under it was sparse enough not to be uncomfortable. The two men settled in and made a small fire, which served to chase the shadows away and sooth their dread. Dirt gave them both some sap for dinner so they wouldn¡¯t have to eat that terrible bread.

    Ignasi stretched and lay down first under his thin blanket. H¨¨ctor followed shortly after, and the two men lay wide awake, listening for the sounds of an approaching fantasma and hoping none showed up.

    Socks simply put both of them to sleep with a mental shove, then said, ¡°Let¡¯s go look around.¡±

    Dirt grinned and stood back up. ¡°You¡¯ve been wanting to stay up a lot lately.¡±

    -Wolves are supposed to hunt at night, so that¡¯s when the Devourer prowls to find us. That¡¯s why Mother always made us sleep at night and go out during the day. But I¡¯m sure we¡¯re fine for a bit.-

    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s safe, then? What do you want to go do?¡±

    -Just come with me for a moment.-

    ¡°Of course. Let¡¯s go. Do you want me to ride?¡±

    Socks picked Dirt up and tossed him on his back, then crept away in silence. Everywhere else was silver and black from moonshadow, but the old barn had a warm yellow glow from the dwindling fire that made it seem a welcoming place.

    -Fantasma doesn¡¯t mean skeleton. I think it means ghost.-

    ¡°Why do you think that?¡±

    -Because, look.- Socks opened his mind for a connection and Dirt received it. The pup shared only one sense, though¡ªa magical one. Ghost sight.

    The town lit up into perfect clarity, just as it appeared during the daytime, except only blacks and grays. Socks was careful to keep it constrained to within a couple dozen paces to keep from injuring Dirt¡¯s brain, but that was enough for him to get the idea.

    In every window and doorway, under every shadow and beside every gate or corner, was a human face. Some had full outlines and others were just shapes, but they were everywhere, in every direction. They waited silently as corpses, perfectly unmoving, watching with unblinking eyes.

    A bone-deep chill passed through him that had nothing to do with the temperature. His human eyes sought out the same doorways and windows and found nothing but blackest emptiness. Or did he? Did something move?

    -I didn¡¯t use ghost sight here last time, but this time I wanted to look for goblins so I did. And I found them like this, just watching. I asked Mother and she said they¡¯re the spirits of dead humans.-

    A sense of menace gripped him, but Dirt wasn¡¯t sure if it was real or imagined. ¡°Can they do anything? Can they touch us?¡±

    -Usually not. That¡¯s what Mother said.-

    ¡°So sometimes they can?¡±

    -Maybe.-

    Dirt tried to calm himself as he watched the crowd of the dead through Socks¡¯ senses. Men, women, and children, their faces everywhere. If Socks looked too hard at one directly, it seemed to lose its distinctiveness and fade, only to reappear elsewhere.

    ¡°What would make them dangerous?¡±

    -I don¡¯t know. I think all they can do is scare you, maybe, since they¡¯re dead. They¡¯re just spirits now.-

    Socks made his way farther into town, watching with ghost sight the whole way. He kept it limited to close by, though, so Dirt could share it. Dirt¡¯s human eyes saw farther in the moonlight and it was disconcerting to see how each empty shadow filled with specters when the two of them got close.

    Nothing moved, though. Not even the wind. The air was heavy and cold, almost as thick with humidity as the forest, but it didn¡¯t smell right. Too much swampy ground nearby gave it a scent like rotting plants.

    There was a faint pop from inside one of the houses, and both Socks and Dirt swiveled their heads to look and listen closer. But it didn¡¯t repeat. Instead, only silence.

    Until a bird hooted, probably an owl. It glided over them, flying without a sound, and disappeared over a roof. Dirt was surprised he couldn¡¯t hear its wings flapping.

    -I heard its wings, but they¡¯re very quiet. It¡¯s a quiet bird. It must be a hunter.-

    No further hoots came, which only drew out the silence. They crept along, watched by the dead, until they got close enough to the tower for Socks to see it with his ghost sight. Strangely, the closer they got, the dimmer the view in ghost sight became. Socks slowed down a bit, confused.

    As soon as they were close enough, the tower burst into view like a roaring infero, engulfed in black flame that swallowed light and distorted everything around it. Tongue of black fire leaped from windows and climbed up the outside of the tower. Inside the flames, the spirits manifested fully, every detail clear as reality. They twisted, mouths open, suffering and screaming as the flames consumed them. Their flesh melted and cracked. Their eyes burst and ran down their splitting cheeks.

    Dirt slammed the connection shut, and the tower became just a tower. Empty and white, standing silently in the moonlight.

    -I¡¯m sorry, little Dirt. I wasn¡¯t expecting that.- The pup followed the thought with a burst of emotion, mostly sympathy for his little pet. Dirt¡¯s heart pounded and nausea swirled as terror twisted up his guts, but he let himself be soothed, even as his soul trembled from knowing what was happening unseen, so close by.

    Dirt didn¡¯t reply, choosing instead to bury his face in the pup¡¯s soft fur and breathe deep, filling his nose and chest with wolf-scent. He was safe. The ghosts couldn¡¯t hurt him. He tried to stop being afraid but he couldn¡¯t because he knew they were still there. He knew.

    -I wonder why the tower is burning like that. That didn¡¯t happen in real life. Oh, never mind. It stopped. What are they doing now?-

    ¡°What? What happened?¡± asked Dirt, but he could tell without Socks even saying anything. There was something sickly and malicious in the air, something he could feel in his deepest parts.

    A thump landed nearby, so out of place and startling that even Socks jumped and yelped in surprise. They looked at the source and saw a severed human head, someone they didn¡¯t recognize with eyes staring lifelessly and fresh blood oozing out the neck. Dirt blinked and it was gone without leaving even a mark on the grass.

    They heard a muffled voice from the other direction and spun, only to see nothing at all. But they heard it again, faintly. A woman moaning in pain.

    More sounds came¡ªthe wretched thunk of a blade hacking into flesh, screams of suffering far away. Footsteps. Quiet laughter.

    Dirt felt a tug on the Home-staff, a jolt like they were trying to take it away from him. Then another on the strap holding the knife sheath. He screamed.

    -Hold on. We are leaving.-

    Socks turned and jumped forward, but Dirt was yanked backward by his hair. He felt the ghostly fingers as they pressed his scalp, each one distinctly.

    Dirt forgot to protect himself with mana and hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him and stunning his diaphragm so he couldn¡¯t breathe.

    He tried to get up, tried desperately to inhale and resolve the burning in his chest from lack of air, but he couldn¡¯t. Just short, useless gasps.

    The ghosts fought to hold him down, hands pressing on him briefly and disappearing. A cold feeling encircled his neck, like a blade of iron eager to cut.

    He screamed, just one short burst, and regretted it since that was the last of his air. He managed to gasp a partial lungful, then another, and avoided passing out. He still couldn¡¯t get up. Something kept pushing him back down, dragging him backward.

    Socks¡¯ mind clamped on him heavy as a tree trunk and pulled him the other direction, his entire body at once. Ghostly fingers slipped off him, some pinching or scratching or pulling his hair. But he came free, flying upward out of their grasp.

    From above, Dirt could finally see them with his naked eyes. In every window and doorway, under every shadow and lurking in every corner, were the spirits of the dead.

 The Druid - Chapter 11

    It didn¡¯t matter where Socks put Dirt. On his back, under his belly, or even floating in the air, the ghosts found him immediately. Their fingertips brushed his skin or pinched him. They tugged his hair or the hem of his pants. Whispers from empty air wormed into his ears, rarely distinct. When Dirt could make out what they were saying, it was in H¨¨ctor¡¯s language and didn¡¯t make sense, things like, ¡°Is this the one?¡± or ¡°They¡¯re coming.¡±

    Socks snarled at the empty air and clawed at shadows, to no avail.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just go! Let¡¯s get out!¡±

    -Where?-

    ¡°Just anywhere! Out of town!¡±

    Socks dug his claws into the overgrown dirt road and lunged forward at full speed, leaving the two men behind, hopefully unnoticed by the unquiet dead. The ghostly whispers faded against the sound of rushing wind and the town was small enough it took no time at all. The pup didn¡¯t go too much farther, though, and once they were truly out into the brush, Socks turned and looked back again. Dirt felt deeply unwell, crazed with fear or some similar but deeper thing. He couldn¡¯t make himself calm down, even though they were safe now, so he just clung to Socks¡¯ soft gray fur and waited.

    ¡°Wait, what about H¨¨ctor and Ignasi?¡± he said, poking his head up. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to look at the town, though.

    -They look fine so far. Do you want to go back?-

    ¡°I guess not.¡±

    -I wonder why the dead humans are only bothering you and not me. Maybe this is why Mother never warned me about them. Do humans just stay where they died forever?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but that doesn¡¯t sound right. The gods¡­ the gods should¡­¡± Dirt puzzled over that. Anything to distract him from the other things in his mind right now. ¡°Socks, did Mother or Father ever tell you about gods? What they are?¡±

    -I asked after you saw that statue down there, but Father just said not to worry about it because they don¡¯t matter anymore.-

    ¡°Did you get the milk?¡± asked a man standing nearby, fully formed. The moonlight made his pale shirt and hat glow, but he cast no shadow. He vanished a moment later.

    Dirt shrieked and buried his face.

    ¡°Wake up, Galla. We have to go,¡± whispered a woman¡¯s voice nearby.

    ¡°Go! They found us again!¡±

    -I know.-

    Socks dug in and ran again, circling the town this time instead of just running straight away from it. He stopped on the opposite side, and back a bit farther.

    They paused, the pup watching with ghost sight and Dirt straining his ears to listen, hoping he heard nothing. Just crickets and some far-off chirping, and both of their heartbeats. Dirt was so scared that his was faster right now, which almost never happened.

    -I never see them moving,-- said Socks. -I wonder how they go from place to place.-

    Dirt didn¡¯t care enough to answer and didn¡¯t want to know. He never wanted to see another one as long as he lived. He felt like he was suffocating under crushing dread. All he could do was bury his face in the pup¡¯s fur and try to think of something else.

    -I don¡¯t see as many on this side. I think this was the right place to go. There are some by the two men, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯re waking them up. Probably giving them nightmares.-

    Socks padded around quietly, looking into town from different angles. No ghosts appeared and no whispers floated on the still air.

    ¡°I hate this. I wish I could at least know when they were coming. How do people deal with them? Are there just lots of them around, and humans all live like this?¡±

    -That sounds unlikely. What do you want to do now?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. You?¡±

    -I think I am figuring something out. Just relax for a bit.-

    ¡°About what?¡±

    -About ghost sight.-

    ¡°What about it?¡±

    -How it works.-

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Socks didn¡¯t answer right away and Dirt realized the pup had not an ounce of fear in him. Probably since they were leaving him alone. He was concerned and pitied his little human, but he wasn¡¯t scared. That was comforting. Slightly.

    -I want to know why I can¡¯t see them move.-

    ¡°Maybe ghost sight isn¡¯t actually the spirit world,¡± said Dirt, not really giving it much thought.

    Socks lifted his head up backward and looked at Dirt with one eye. -Why do you say that?-

    Now that he was on the spot, he had to hurry and come up with something, so he said, ¡°Well, I¡¯m pretty sure they¡¯re moving and since you can¡¯t see them doing it, what you see isn¡¯t where they really are.¡±

    -That¡¯s what I was thinking. Why don¡¯t I see spirits all over the place, all the time? I never really thought about what it was I am looking at, but now I wonder.-

    ¡°Is a ghost different from a spirit? I know it¡¯s just words from my language, but maybe that¡¯s a clue?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re gonna kill you!¡± said a man nearby, his voice quiet even though it sounded like a yell.

    Dirt whimpered and tried to be strong, but knowing another dead person was right over there was too much.

    -All right, I am getting annoyed with this. Hang on, little Dirt.-

    Dirt buried his head, relieved to be finally leaving the town behind. He promised himself they¡¯d come back for H¨¨ctor and Ignasi, if for no other reason than to make sure they got Marina back, or what was left of her. Hopefully all of her, happy and healthy as ever. He kept his eyes closed, letting the worry leak out of him like sweat. As Socks ran, the moving air created a chill that felt soothing now instead of menacing.

    It was a short run, though. Much shorter than Dirt expected.

    -All right, you humans. Wake up and tell Dirt how to take care of ghosts,- said Socks in the new language. Loudly. Not just for Dirt to hear.

    Dirt shot up and found himself in that barn where H¨¨ctor and Ignasi were sleeping. The men were shocked awake, gasping and reaching for their weapons.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    -Do not grab those. Tell Dirt how to take care of ghosts. They are bothering him.-

    ¡°He speaks!¡± said Ignasi, stunned, jaw hanging open. His beard had gotten all disheveled and he pushed some of the stray hairs out of his mouth with his tongue.

    ¡°No, he does not speak. That was something else,¡± said H¨¨ctor, wary.

    Dirt slid off Socks¡¯ back and immediately regretted it, because the whispers started up again.

    -¡°Of course he speaks,¡± said Dirt, anxiety redoubling. ¡°I told you I can talk to him. Now, listen. Do you hear that?¡±

    The men paused, never taking their eyes off Socks, who only barely fit under the roof. ¡°You can¡¯t bring it,¡± said a little girl, plain as day. She sounded younger than the dryads.

    H¨¨ctor¡¯s eyes hardened and Ignasi went pale.

    -Well? Do you know or not?-

    ¡°My apologies, friend Socks. I am slow to wake up. What is going on?¡± said Ignasi, running his hand down his face and tugging his beard to help wake up.

    --It is dead humans. They will not leave Dirt alone.-

    ¡°How is he doing that?¡± asked H¨¨ctor, looking around. He poked a finger in one ear and twisted as if cleaning it out. He inhaled sharply and spun, looking behind himself. ¡°Something touched my shoulder!¡±

    They were starting to become visible again. Vague shapes in shadow, hints of movement in the corners of his vision.

    ¡°Please,¡± begged Dirt. ¡°Please hurry and tell me what to do.¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°The dead are upon us. It is too late.¡±

    -There has to be something. There are more dead than living, so if they could kill you, there wouldn¡¯t be any of you left.-

    Dirt asked, ¡°Isn¡¯t there anything? Will they at least go away in the morning?¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°If we let them be, we will not be here to see the morning.¡±

    ¡°So what do we do?!¡± yelled Dirt, trying his best to keep from growing frantic and screaming.

    ¡°Fire. The light might preserve us for a time,¡± said H¨¨ctor, turning to look for wood.

    Socks yanked the frame right out of a nearby wall with his mind and split it in midair. He dumped the pile of shattered wood fragments right next to H¨¨ctor. -What else?-

    H¨¨ctor wasted no time and took an armful of firewood and stepped to the coals of the small fire from earlier. He set the wood in a triangle shape and leaned in to blow the embers. As he worked, invisible hands pulled his arms back and he fought against them with decisive forcefulness.

    -Get back. I will light it,- said Socks to everyone.

    H¨¨ctor looked up, worried, but he backed away without arguing. Socks made a few sparks in the triangle and ignited them and a moment later, the flames were waist-high and hot.

    -Now what?-

    Ignasi said, ¡°Now we wait. If they are strong enough to put the fire out, our souls will join theirs.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Dirt asked.

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°If it were our town, we would all gather together and hold a festival, with songs and bright fires to drive them out. We would put up signs to keep them away, and shout until they leave. Then we¡¯d all get drunk. But this is not our town. There are some places that should never be touched. I should have known. I felt it when we walked in here. I should have paid attention.¡±

    ¡°That can¡¯t be all! How do you keep them away the rest of the time? Does this happen every night in a human town?¡± said Dirt. A fingertip traced his spine from his neck to his pants and gave them a gentle tug backward. He ignored it, but couldn¡¯t keep from shuddering so hard his teeth clacked.

    Ignasi said, ¡°This is their place. H¨¨ctor is right. Our best chance was not to disturb them.¡±

    A burning man, arms waving wildly, ran into the barn from outside and crashed into the fire. The area smelled like burning hair and roasted flesh and a scream of pain split their ears. And then stopped. The scent vanished. The man vanished. Socks picked up the scattered fire logs with his mind and put them back.

    -Why weren¡¯t they here in the daytime?- said Socks, loudly enough to get through to the minds of the three stunned humans.

    ¡°They cannot abide the light,¡± whispered H¨¨ctor. ¡°Their place is dark and cold. Empty.¡±

    A boy screamed, shrill and desperate. Goblins laughed and a series of sickening thuds filled their ears. When they looked for the source, there was nothing there.

    Dirt slapped a hand to his neck, feeling a deep scratch. When he pulled his palm away, he saw blood.

    --Dark and cold and empty? Then make more light. Dirt, make a light.-

    Dirt couldn¡¯t move. He stared at the blood in horror. The ghosts could hurt him for real. They were going to kill him. He was going to die here and become one of them.

    -Dirt. DIRT.-

    ¡°What?¡± he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from his palm.

    Socks howled, so loud the humans had to plug their ears with both hands. His enormous lungs kept the note going, going, going.

    Then he inhaled again and howled once more. -MINE,- yelled the wolf in their minds.

    In the silence following, there were no whispers, no ghostly voices. No fingers traced Dirt¡¯s flesh or tugged his hair.

    -Now, my dear little Dirt, make a light.-

    Dirt complied before he¡¯d fully regained his wits. He snapped his fingers and the little ball of flame appeared above his head. In the light of the flames from the fire, it had hardly any effect.

    -Make it bigger. Brighter.-

    ¡°I can do that,¡± said Dirt. He inhaled mana and fed it in, and when the ball of flame started to get bigger, Dirt compressed it instead. He pictured the sun in his mind, just a little thing the size of his pinky fingernail in the sky, but with tremendous, unwavering power.

    The flame gleamed hotter as it compressed. Its color brightened from orange to yellow to white until it shone more brilliantly than even the waist-high flames.

    Then Dirt made a second one, only possible after watching Socks make fields of sparks so many times. Then another. He held his palm out and gathered them to it, having them slowly rotate around each other in the air.

    --Good. That is very bright. They do not like it. I think I know what ghost sight is,- said the pup, just to him.

    ¡°What?¡±

    -It¡¯s the border. The skin where the spirit touches the physical, or maybe the world of magic. I¡¯m not sure but that¡¯s what I see. It¡¯s not either place, just between. Too much happening on this side pushes them back out. Noise and commotion and light. You are good at those things, so make them.-

    Fear left him and was replaced by anger. Dirt turned and strode out into the night. He made the lights leave his hand and circled them above his head like gems in a crown of glory.

    ¡°Come get me now, you dead ghosts! Come get me now!¡± he shouted. He stomped as he walked and swung the staff in front of him like he was swatting away goblins.

    Ignasi and H¨¨ctor rushed out after him, followed by Socks. The pup sent him a puff of affection tinged with pride and relief, and Dirt sent it back. His mind felt clear now. It was bright as sunlight out here, and nothing could harm him.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± asked Ignasi. He seemed calm, like he was starting to get used to this.

    ¡°I¡¯m going where the stupid ghosts came from. That¡¯s what they get for messing with Dirt!¡±

    The swirling lights above his head made shadows dance everywhere, as if trying to escape the burning gaze of one that could eat them. Some whispers still reached him as he got closer to the tower, but not many.

    Each footstep was set heavy, resolute, and unwavering. Dirt felt like something long forgotten had awoken in him, a portion of the man he might once have been. His mind was clearer than ever as the focus required to keep the lights burning pushed away all unrelated and useless thoughts. Mana cycled naturally within him, guided by a will sharpened to razor¡¯s accuracy.

    Dirt stopped before the tower, burning white light piercing every window. Inside the main door, however, on the ground floor, the interior was shadowy and dark. Black fog swirled as a sense of menace and hatred assaulted his spirit.

    ¡°Be gone!¡± he screamed, his voice high-pitched, like a woman¡¯s. It had been a long while since any part of him had seemed wrong, but it wasn¡¯t the voice he expected. He gestured with the staff and screamed again, so fiercely his whole body tightened up. With full discipline and sincerity he commanded, ¡°Be gone!¡±

    The blackness swirled. He¡¯d been wrong. It wasn¡¯t fog. Something in there was eating the light itself.

    Dirt waved the staff and summoned a strong gust of wind to blow right into the doorway. He heard it knocking the dry bones around, crushing the skulls in that pile against the walls. He stepped forward. And again.

    ¡°Try and eat this, you old ghosts! Come eat this light!¡± He made a fourth light. A fifth. The gleam from the pale tower stone was so bright it hurt his eyes, and everything else was black from losing his night vision.

    He stepped forward again. And again. Right up to the doorway. The wall of quivering blackness was an arm¡¯s reach away, retreating by inches under the assault of the wind and lights.

    -Don¡¯t go into that.- said Socks, just to him again.

    Dirt blinked, having almost forgotten anyone else was around. It felt wonderful, reliving his old self. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± He waved a hand and fired a light into the midst of the blackness. It shook and struggled as if poisoned from inside.

    He stepped forward again and the black retreated. ¡°Be gone, dead ones. Harm the living no longer!¡± Dirt waved a finger and stuck a light to the interior wall, right above the doorway. He created another one, just as bright as the rest. He stuck it to the wall a few feet to the side. Then again, and again.

    And then it was over. The blackness succumbed and split apart, leaving nothing but a messy, well-lit room, dominated by a pile of skulls.

    Socks poked his nose in the doorway and gathered the skulls together with his mind. Then, with one solid swat, he crushed the entire pile into dust, which the wind carried out a far window and into the night, where it spread into a cloud and slowly dissipated.

    Dirt let all the lights wink out except one, finally relaxing. He exhaled and leaned on the staff.

    All was silent again. Not even crickets or birds this time, after all that ruckus. No shapes hiding in shadow, not gentle tugs or menacing whispers.

    -They¡¯re gone. That seems like too much work for just a bunch of dead humans,- said Socks, to everyone again.

    Ignasi laughed.

 The Druid - Chapter 12

    Dirt looked up into the broken stairway that led to the second floor and thought about that bedroom. It didn¡¯t seem quite so tempting to sleep in anymore.

    ¡°This place feels different now,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°Different how?¡± asked Ignasi.

    ¡°Just different,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He peered around as if looking for something, but his eyes seemed vacant.

    Socks poked his head in the doorway and said, -I told you they are gone. Come out of there.-

    It really did feel different now, although Dirt wasn¡¯t sure if he was imagining it or if that tremendous sense of relief was just from him. He still had liquid fear in his veins making his fingers tingle and his head feel swimmy, but only a little and it was fading fast. Socks would probably be smelling it on him the rest of the night, though, because it had been a lot.

    No sooner had Dirt walked out than Socks leaned down and licked him a bunch of times. Dirt started giggling and backed away and thought about running, but it was too dark to play chase right now. ¡°Okay, lean down here!¡± he commanded.

    Socks lowered his nose and Dirt hugged the pup¡¯s face with enthusiasm, squeezing as hard as he could. At times like this, it was hard to deny just how fast Socks was growing. Dirt couldn¡¯t reach around as far anymore. They could still nuzzle their heads together, though. Sort of. Mostly Dirt did the nuzzling because if Socks pushed back, Dirt would fall over.

    The two men followed close behind. Ignasi scratched Socks¡¯ skull around his ears. H¨¨ctor looked like he wanted to, but didn¡¯t.

    Dirt let the lights wink out, sighing quietly as the mana stopped channeling through him. The darkness was complete, but he didn¡¯t mind looking down the road while his eyes readjusted. It might be dark, but there was nothing there anymore.

    The men slept in the same barn, but this time Socks lay right outside and Dirt could tell how it put them at ease without even looking at their thoughts. They smiled and moved with grace instead of caution, chatting quietly. Dirt snuggled into his usual spot in Socks¡¯ fur and nodded off sending puffs of affection back and forth.

    Morning came late, with the sun well into the sky before Dirt finally stretched and yawned himself awake. Socks was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the men. Dirt smiled to himself as he imagined Socks following them around, sniffing at everything and asking what they were doing.

    Besides, that was Dirt¡¯s job. He got up and stepped out from under the roof, then used a little mana to jump on top of it. Sure enough, Socks wasn¡¯t too far away, peering into a house window and wagging his tail.

    Dirt hid his thoughts and crept as quietly as he could, stepping slowly to keep even two pebbles from rubbing against each other. Where he had to step through grass, he drifted his fingertips across it and asked it to bend out of the way. He even slowed his breathing to keep it from making the slightest sound.

    Inch by inch he crept forward, slow as a hunter, silent as death. Closer. Closer.

    ¡°WAAAAAGH!¡± he shouted at the top of his lungs, right next to Socks. The pup squeaked and jumped three times his height in the air, body twisting as he tried to right himself and face the threat. He landed awkwardly on the house next door and his front paws went right through the rotting roof, where they got stuck.

    Dirt laughed so hard he almost cried, and watching Socks trying to extricate himself without pulling the house down made it even better. All this time, and he¡¯d never gotten that close without getting caught. Socks could hear his heartbeat. He could smell what Dirt stepped in two days ago. Sneaking up on him was impossible unless he was thoroughly distracted.

    Socks finally managed to get his paws out while leaving the house¡¯s walls intact, although it didn¡¯t really matter because no one was ever going to live there. Dirt ran over and said, ¡°Good morning! I¡¯d say I¡¯m sorry for scaring you but that would be a lie.¡±

    -I am going to summon a ghost if you do that again,- replied Socks.

    ¡°You are going to BE a ghost if I keep doing that, since I scared you to death. Be careful, little pup, for I am now a fearsome predator. You¡¯ll never see me coming.¡±

    That got a puff of amusement from Socks, who replied, -You are the Devourer. Of sap and squirrels and birds. Now, come and see what the humans are doing. It is interesting. And watch your back, because I¡¯ll get my revenge.-

    H¨¨ctor and Ignasi had come out to see what was going on, and although they watched Socks shake to fling the roof tiles out of his fur, they just looked at each other and kept their opinions to themselves.

    They waved for him to follow and went back inside. The house was untouched by the weather, with tight shutters over the windows that had stayed closed all these years and thick wooden tiles on the roof to keep the rain out. It smelled like dust and mysteries, faint and curious. It made the house seem older than it was, which was fun because Dirt knew what old looked like, and this wasn¡¯t it.

    ¡°They locked this house up like they were going to come back someday,¡± said Ignasi, with warm and eager eyes, ¡°which is perfect for us, who want to steal all their stuff.¡±

    H¨¨ctor snorted and knelt by a plain wooden chest and resumed throwing out all the clothing piece by piece.

    ¡°Do you want a new shirt?¡± asked Dirt, since those looked like shirts.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m looking for a certain kind of cloth. They might have something worth carrying,¡± he explained.

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°Silk, dear Dirt. H¨¨ctor thinks he¡¯s about to find silk. I think he¡¯ll only find other things a woman likes to keep hidden.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Never mind that. Do you know what silk is?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Do you know what grain is?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± said Ignasi. He handed him a small wooden barrel, a heavy one. The lid was popped open and it was full of pale-brown seeds. ¡°Take those idle hands of yours and pull all the bugs out, and I¡¯ll tell you what silk is.¡±

    ¡°Why am I pulling the bugs out?¡±

    ¡°So we don¡¯t have to eat them, boy,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°We¡¯re using that grain.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean, what¡¯s wrong with eating bugs? I eat bugs all the time. Or I used to. It¡¯s hard to find big juicy ones anymore,¡± said Dirt. He looked closer at the grain, which turned out to contain more bugs than he noticed at first. Little ones, small as the grains or smaller, and darker in color. He picked one out and found it old and hard, not worth eating. He tossed it aside. ¡°They¡¯re good. I like grubs the best because they¡¯re chewy on the outside and liquid inside. They¡¯re fun to eat.¡±

    Ignasi swallowed and looked nauseous. ¡°Dirt, never tell anyone about eating juicy bugs ever again. Especially not me. I think I believe you actually eat them.¡±

    ¡°Well, of course I do. Or I did, before the trees started giving me sap. What else was I supposed to eat?¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    H¨¨ctor suppressed a grin and said, ¡°Yes, Ignasi, what else was the boy supposed to eat? Dirt, if you ever spot a big juicy one, let us know so we can share with him. He was telling me the other day how much he wants one.¡±

    Dirt caught on, so he played along. ¡°I will. The best grubs are as long as my finger, like this, and when you¡¯re chewing on one, you can play with the others. They¡¯re really wiggly, and all their little feet tickle your tongue until you bite them a few times. Sometimes I¡¯ll bite one in half and leave the other part moving while I chew.¡±

    He picked out another little dark bug from grain and popped it in his mouth. ¡°Hmm. Crunchy. Not very good, though.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t be able to tell you about silk if I¡¯m busy vomiting,¡± said Ignasi. He really did look sick, which made Dirt and H¨¨ctor give each other conspiratorial grins.

    Ignasi held his hand up for Dirt to stop talking and took a sip from his waterskin. He swished, swallowed, and took another sip. ¡°No, it¡¯s too late,¡± he declared. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to die.¡±

    H¨¨ctor snorted. ¡°We can only hope. But please, do it outside.¡±

    -Stop talking about bugs and tell us about silk,- Socks told everyone. His big yellow eye took up the whole window, making him seem monstrous.

    ¡°Silk is cloth, finer and lighter than anything else,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± said Ignasi. ¡°H¨¨ctor, you are terrible at this.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°H¨¨ctor, this is a boy, and that is a puppy,¡± said Ignasi, pointing. He tugged at his beard and said, ¡°You must tell them stories.¡±

    ¡°Then be my guest.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t be your guest because this isn¡¯t your house.¡±

    ¡°Then keep your mouth shut.¡±

    ¡°How about I tell a story instead? Dirt, you know nothing of the kingdoms of men. Is that right?¡±

    Dirt took a second to realize he was meant to answer. ¡°Mostly. I know about some things from a long time ago but nothing recent.¡±

    ¡°How long ago?¡±

    ¡°Three thousand years.¡±

    H¨¨ctor looked up, his black eyes piercing again. ¡°Where did you learn about anything from three thousand years ago?¡±

    Dirt considered carefully how he wanted to answer, but Socks answered for him first. -If your story is any good, then maybe we¡¯ll tell you.-

    Ignasi said, ¡°If it¡¯s H¨¨ctor¡¯s story, it won¡¯t be any good, so I¡¯ll tell it instead. My grandfather was a man named Tom¨¤s, and when he was a boy, his grandfather told him what he was taught by even older ancestors. And that is this: in the days before the Three Kingdoms of Camayans, they were all one kingdom, which stood for hundreds of years. In those days, men made mighty ships to sail the oceans and look for lands more welcoming. They were shaped like a seed, with a point at the front and flat at the back, and floated high on the water, taller than buildings. No expense was spared, with decorations from front to back. Carved wood and inlaid bone and brass. Such a ship might hold a thousand men or more, with room inside for their horses and provisions for months of travel.

    ¡°Some ships departed and never returned, lost without explanation. Others found fertile land with water and safety and claimed it. Some grew prosperous while others failed and were lost. But many more ships found new kingdoms of men. Kingdoms of mountains, of plains, and of water. Men of all kinds. The ships returned with goods: gold and silver, crops that we still grow to this day. Tools and writings useful for knowledge. In those days, every man had enough food, and the King¡¯s men fought back the beasts that hunt us.

    ¡°Of all the goods from those marvelous places across the water, the finest is silk. Silk is like a dream made of feathers, so gentle you believe it will fly apart if you blow on it, but sturdy enough to wear. My grandfather never learned where it came from, and none has been made since the ships were lost. Dirt, please stop eating those,¡± said Ignasi.

    Dirt put down the grain-bug he¡¯d been about to pop in his mouth without realizing, and chewed on a piece of grain instead. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m listening. Was that all?¡±

    ¡°No, it was not all. Those days, the days of that One Kingdom, have been gone for over two hundred years. Long enough to be forgotten by most. And some even say the One Kingdom was not the first¡ªthat other kingdoms came before it. That men were once so prosperous that we fought against each other instead of the wilds.

    ¡°But those days are long, long past for most of us. The One Kingdom fell for the same reasons so many towns do. Do you know what those reasons are?¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°Well, you¡¯re the first humans I ever met, so, no. I have no idea. Why is that?¡±

    ¡°The wilds, little Dirt. It is always the wilds. This is something so basic that it almost didn¡¯t occur to me to ask. Goblins, for example. Is one goblin a problem? Are ten? If there are ten goblins, then twenty men will kill them. But those ten goblins are only discovered after they kill a cow or a child or a family. Then the whole village is poorer¡ªone less cow, one less child, one less family. Bit by bit, over many years, the towns and villages shrink. The land they can safely farm decreases, the risks they are willing to take while hunting grow fewer.

    ¡°Perhaps a great hunter comes who kills many goblins. Maybe even kills them all. And then for a generation or two, the people prosper and regrow. But only for so long. The wilds always creep back in.

    ¡°And that is not all. Goblins are not the only cause. Some fields become tangled with new plants that resist the plow, forcing us to ignore them until they grow thick enough to burn. But that means that for a year or two, an entire field grew no crops and someone went hungry. If this happens in a poor year, maybe a child starves who might otherwise have lived.

    ¡°Those are just the slow things,¡± said H¨¨ctor, sighing in disappointment after getting to the bottom of the box and not finding any silk. He tossed everything back in and started looking into other containers spread throughout the room. ¡°Not everything is slow.¡±

    Ignasi nodded and said, ¡°Indeed. Not everything is slow. Sometimes there is a calamity, and a whole rich town will be wiped out in a night. From one day to the next, everyone is dead, without even time to gather their goods and flee. An army of goblins who grew clever, for example, as seems to have happened here. Or causes we never learn. Perhaps someone offended one of Socks¡¯ siblings.¡±

    ¡°Or an avitus showed up,¡± said H¨¨ctor with a scowl directed at a small vial he was sniffing. ¡°Do you see this? Smell it.¡±

    Dirt peeked in and saw a thick, dark liquid inside. He sniffed it and was repulsed. It smelled like rot, so bad it hurt his nostrils.

    H¨¨ctor held the little pot to the window for Socks, who sniffed it as well, so much it made a rushing air sound. ¡°What does that smell like to you, Socks?¡±

    -It smells like lots of plants. Plant oil that went bad and rotten, but with flower scents and something sharp I¡¯ve never encountered before,- replied the pup. -What is it?-

    ¡°It¡¯s scented oil to make a woman smell nice. But it has a hint of cinnamon in it, which is something we haven¡¯t been able to get since before I was born. My father had some, powdered in a glass jar. The woman of the house probably got this from her grandmother. If she¡¯d left it closed, it might still be good. Hard to say. But she left the lid off and now it¡¯s garbage,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He set it down and put the lid on, which had been right next to it.

    The man stood and stretched his neck. ¡°Over there, see those jars? Those were full of food. Those ones are fruit stored with sugar, and those are meats stored with salt. None of it is edible anymore. I think some of those look like vegetables. That¡¯s a pot of jam, which is fruit made into a paste you can spread on bread. This one looks like it might have been butter, and that ceramic pot used to have milk in it. Which tells me they had a cow. Which probably went in that barn.¡±

    ¡°I thought this was my story,¡± said Ignasi, picking up a length of thin rope he found and testing it.

    ¡°I¡¯m not telling a story. I¡¯m just pointing things out,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°But here¡¯s the point. A lot of people worked hard to make the stuff you see in here. Someone made the cloth on that bed, and carved those chairs and that table, and someone made those iron hinges. Someone else dug up the iron and smelted it. If we lose the guy who digs up the iron, then no one gets hinges anymore. If we lose the guy who grows the sugar, no one makes any jam. Do you see where I¡¯m going with this?¡±

    Dirt considered it. He relied on Socks, of course, but that¡¯s because they were friends. But did it really affect the pups if there was one less of them around? Not really. There wasn¡¯t a pup who made iron, and another who milked cattle. Every pup had everything he needed¡ªclaws and teeth. Same with the trees. Each tree had everything she needed¡ªsunlight, fog for water, and soil to grow in. Did it change anything in the forest if there was one less tree? Not in a way he knew about.

    Socks had said once that it didn¡¯t matter if there was one less human, because who cared about humans? Or something like that. Dirt couldn¡¯t remember it exactly. But that was wrong, wasn¡¯t it? It did matter, because every human had something they were responsible for giving to everyone else.

    Dirt finally said, ¡°I think so. Maybe? But it¡¯s different from anything I know about. I just eat whatever I find, and I don¡¯t need any clothes. Or at least I didn¡¯t before.¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°This is how things fall apart, dear Dirt. Tiny piece by tiny piece or all at once, but they always do. The wilds gnaw at us, breaking apart our kingdoms. Then they eat our baronies and counties, and then our cities, towns, villages.¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°It¡¯s been like this too long for anyone to guess. It¡¯s said that the ancients knew how the world was made and when men first appeared. That gods were great and ruled the whole world instead of the small things like a mountain or lake or village. But there¡¯s one thing we all know¡ªit¡¯s getting close to the end. I won¡¯t be here to see it. There are still too many of us around. But it¡¯s coming. Maybe a hundred years, maybe two hundred. But it¡¯s coming. There will be a final day of man.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps all that¡¯s left of us will be wild boys running around with wolves, never knowing a thing about their kind,¡± said Ignasi. ¡°As for me, what do I care? I am alive and there are still things to enjoy. Why get upset?¡±

    ¡°You still came, though,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°Ah ha!¡± he roared suddenly. He pulled out a long bottle from behind some brown pots. It had a sturdy wax seal around the top and was filled with a dark, sloshing liquid.

    ¡°I still came. Because why not? Perhaps we¡¯ll make contact with Marina¡¯s village and push off the final end for another hundred years. Perhaps we will rebuild this town and reclaim that tower, and survive another two hundred instead. It will give me more time to enjoy that wine. Pop it open, H¨¨ctor. Let us teach little Dirt about the finer things in life.¡±

 The Druid - Chapter 13

    The wine was the worst thing Dirt had ever tasted. The flavor was nothing but rot, with the addition of burning. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure any even made it down his throat because as soon as it hit the back of his mouth he started coughing, and that sent it up his nose. The burning scent made his eyes water, and from there it was nothing but misery.

    H¨¨ctor and Ignasi laughed uproariously, which brought Socks to his feet with a growl forming in his throat. But he paused before biting them in half and turned to Dirt. -That was a prank. They think you will be fine.-

    ¡°Why would anyone drink that? Is that really wine?¡± complained Dirt. The smell filled his head, even his skin; everything in his face burned. He coughed again, but it didn¡¯t help.

    H¨¨ctor, still chuckling, took the bottle away and handed his waterskin over. ¡°Here, wash it out. You¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but what was it?¡±

    ¡°It was wine. Plum and apple, I¡¯m guessing, and strong,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He lifted the bottle overhead and gulped loudly, taking several big swallows.

    Ignasi jumped up and grabbed it away, spilling some on H¨¨ctor¡¯s beardless face. A splash got in his eyes and he hissed in dismay. ¡°H¨¨ctor, dear man, you must be careful. You must be careful to share,¡± said Ignasi. Then he took a drink just as loud and deep as H¨¨ctor¡¯s, and both men laughed.

    Dirt backed away as the smell got worse. His throat still burned and felt like he needed to cough, but there was nothing to cough up. He drank some water and swished it around, then swallowed. It only helped a little, until the third or fourth swallow.

    ¡°This was a bad idea on an empty stomach,¡± said Ignasi, amusement in his voice.

    ¡°Your cheeks are already turning red, you lightweight,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He took the bottle back, peeked inside with a look of deep contemplation, and plugged the stopper back in.

    Dirt leaned over to look at the bottle again, as if something on the outside would give away the secret. ¡°Okay, but really, what was it? I thought wine was supposed to be rich and smooth and bold. Words like that.¡±

    Ignasi asked, ¡°Why did you think so? Did someone tell you?¡±

    Dirt shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just remembered that from somewhere.¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°If you know how to describe something you¡¯ve never had, then you must not have been alone your whole life. Feel like telling us anything, boy?¡±

    --Dirt has never seen living humans before you,- said Socks, to everyone. The men glanced at each other and chose not to argue.

    The pup had his thoughts hidden, leaving the light of his mind almost perfectly blank. He was thinking about something he didn¡¯t want Dirt to know just yet. Dirt looked at his friend carefully and saw his eyes drifting to the bottle, then at the waterskin Dirt was holding. Just a tiny flick of his tail, and Dirt realized what was up. He¡¯d have to smell anything he drank for a while, because Socks was plotting his revenge.

    Dirt pushed that thought aside and locked it up so Socks wouldn¡¯t know he¡¯d been found out and turned back to the men. ¡°Anyway, if you¡¯re not supposed to drink that stuff with an empty stomach, do you want some sap for breakfast?¡±

    ¡°No, dear boy, we have something better in mind. Noble Socks, if I may ask you a question?¡± said Ignasi, with a charmingly deferential air. He gestured with his hands in a way Dirt made sure to remember, since it was graceful and humble at the same time.

    -What?-

    ¡°The wind that arose last night. Did it stir up any new smells? Shake the dust from these houses to reveal what¡¯s inside?¡±

    --Yes. It is very interesting now. Why?-

    ¡°Then look closely, if you wish. These grains are called wheat, and wheat can last for a very long time. We grind it into powder, like so,¡± said Ignasi. He placed it on a ceramic plate and ground it with a rock he pulled from his pocket, crushing it into little crumbles. ¡°That powder is called flour. With flour, we can make fresh bread. Tell me, mightiest of creatures, can you smell any flour? Save us the trouble looking everywhere?¡±

    Socks reached his big head in through the doorway as far as he could go, getting his nose right up to the plate. He sniffed twice, just to be sure, then pulled himself back outside. He wagged his tail excitedly and disappeared.

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous, Ignasi.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, and you¡¯re welcome,¡± said the other man with a little bow.

    Dirt went out first. Socks was easy to spot as he bounced from house to house, sniffing in all the doors and windows, even the half-burnt and collapsed ones. Dirt and the men started walking in his direction, but the big pup wasn¡¯t moving in a straight line and they realized they¡¯d never catch him.

    ¡°Ignasi, head over that way and check those two houses. Dirt, come with me and we¡¯ll check over here,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He turned and started across the grass-covered street to a row of shorter houses with flat roofs, all built close together. Most of them still had shutters closed over the windows, although every one of them was missing the door.

    ¡°Why over there?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Because those people were poor, which means they didn¡¯t have much. Which means whatever they had were the most useful things they could get,¡± said H¨¨ctor without turning around. He kept a quick pace and Dirt had to scramble to keep up.

    ¡°Why were some people poor?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Because they had less money and fewer things. Come on,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He peeked into the first doorway but didn¡¯t go inside.

    ¡°What are we looking for?¡±

    ¡°Anything useful,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°If you¡¯re not sure, it¡¯s probably not.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think the wine was useful. If I find any more, I¡¯m not telling you,¡± said Dirt.

    H¨¨ctor snorted in amusement but didn¡¯t say anything.

    Dirt picked a different house and went in. There wasn¡¯t much inside, just a big bed made from a wooden box with straw inside, covered with blankets. No real mattress. Rusty pots hung from hooks on a board stuck to the wall and some shoddy shelves held grimy old plates and cups. There was a wicker basket with a lid, which Dirt opened with the staff just to see if he could, but it just had cloth in it. No dead bodies, at least.

    The next two houses in the row were similar except for the big holes in the roof. Everything inside was rotting and covered in mildew and even a few mushrooms. He found a shirt that looked like it might be his size, but when he lifted it up the cloth tore, so he dropped it again.

    Useful. What was useful? He had everything he needed. More than he needed, in fact. He didn¡¯t need the knife, or the pants. He would be just fine without them.

    -Come. I found some flour.-

    Dirt hurried out and spotted the pup halfway across town, standing on a roof. He sniffed, then looked around, then sniffed again, tail wagging furiously the whole time. Dirt grinned to himself and wondered what had gotten him so excited, but he supposed it was because wolves liked to hunt, and this counted.

    --In here,- said Socks when they got closer. He pawed at the roof of the building he was standing on, which was different from the houses. Its stone walls set it apart, and notably, it was circular instead of square.

    ¡°Looks like he found the mol¨ª,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    -The scent was faint, but I found it anyway.-

    ¡°Very well done!¡± shouted Ignasi, coming up from behind. Dirt glimpsed at the man¡¯s mind for traces of mockery but found none. More like amused respect.

    Socks hopped down and peeked into the open door with one eye. -It¡¯s in bags. Watch out for the dead human.-

    ¡°Is it moving?¡± asked Dirt.

    -No.--

    ¡°What a peculiar thing to ask,¡± said Ignasi. ¡°Please, do not elaborate. My heart can only hold so much horror.¡±

    -I think he got injured and crawled inside, then put that bar over the door to keep the goblins out. It worked, but he still died.-

    The inside of the building was all one room with a large contraption in the middle, which Dirt recognized as a mill. Wooden poles to rotate the millstone reached almost to the walls, and the basin for catching the flour was empty. A stack of full sacks made of pale cloth rested against the far wall.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Sure enough, a dead human lay in the middle of a wide stain on the dirt floor that was probably old blood. The body was next to a chair against the wall, which it had probably fallen out of when it died. The corpse was face down and all in a lump, so Dirt couldn¡¯t tell if it had been male or female.

    Ignasi reached back to place his hand on Dirt¡¯s chest and said, ¡°Do not make any of your magical fire in here.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to, but why not? Is there something dangerous?¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°Grain dust can explode if it catches a flame, but I doubt there¡¯s any in the air right now.¡±

    ¡°Better safe than on fire,¡± said Ignasi.

    All the same, Socks grabbed Dirt with his mind and pulled him out, setting him a safe distance away from the door, and then getting in between. The wolf poked his head in the door and said, --There, in the back. Those sacks that are stacked up are full of flour. I opened one.-

    ¡°This one?¡± asked Ignasi from inside.

    --Yes.--

    Socks backed up and let Ignasi come out, holding an open bag. ¡°How did you untie it?¡± the man asked.

    --With my mind.-

    Ignasi looked at the string that used to hold the bag shut, and then at the enormous wolf pup, who was acting pleased with himself.

    -I watched Dirt¡¯s little fingers.-

    ¡°It¡¯s one thing for you to throw large things around. You are a large thing,¡± said Ignasi. ¡°But¡­ somehow, this bothers me.¡±

    ¡°Can I come look?¡± asked Dirt, stepping as close as he dared, which was about even with Socks¡¯ hind leg.

    -No.-

    ¡°The flour smells fine,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°It¡¯s been sitting there so long it lost the smell. Taste it. Wait. No. Taste it out there, so we can all watch,¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡±

    -He¡¯s right. It¡¯s rotten. Why do you drink rotten things, but not eat them?-

    ¡°Because eating rotten things doesn¡¯t get you drunk,¡± said Ignasi, ¡°and the drinks have to be the right kind of rotten.¡±

    H¨¨ctor started making noise inside, tapping on wood and pushing things that creaked and groaned. There wasn¡¯t much to check, apparently, because he soon said, ¡°Good as new. Come help me push this, you lush.¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°You found grain in there?¡±

    ¡°Yep, and poured it in. Come on. Also, Socks, that boy is stronger than he looks, right? Let him help. There¡¯s no problem if there¡¯s no fire,¡± called H¨¨ctor from inside.

    -What if there is a problem?-

    ¡°There won¡¯t be a problem,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°This mill fed everyone in this town the whole time it was here, and it hasn¡¯t exploded yet. Ignasi was mostly kidding.¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°It¡¯s true. I was mostly kidding.¡±

    --Fine. Dirt, you can help. But if there¡¯s a problem, then there will be a PROBLEM,- said Socks. He let the last word resound, almost as loud as Mother¡¯s voice. Dirt was sure he heard shutters rattle.

    Dirt walked in and rubbed his hands on the bare floor to get some dirt on them, clapped them together, and grabbed a push bar. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m ready.¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°Looks like you know how it works.¡±

    ¡°Well, sort of. I know I need to push this.¡±

    ¡°Yep. Now, don¡¯t push too hard. Keep it steady so you don¡¯t get tired. It¡¯ll take a while,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± said Dirt.

    With a pop and a creak, the three humans got the wheel turning. It was heavier than Dirt expected, but he had no trouble keeping a steady flow of mana cycling to strengthen his arms and legs. Around and around they went, listening to the muffled grinding sound and making sure to keep it even.

    Socks laid down and watched through the doorway, and from how he flitted his ears, he was probably keeping track of the whole area. Both men were panting and sweaty after countless turns, but Dirt was still fine. When the milling stopped sounding so muffled they paused. H¨¨ctor looked around for an empty bag and couldn¡¯t find one, so he took a full one and stepped outside to empty it. He began scooping the flour out of the basin under the millstone and started filling the bag.

    ¡°It looks like it¡¯s exactly enough,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Almost like someone thought of that, huh?¡± said H¨¨ctor with a flat tone of voice. A peek at his mind showed he was amused, though, not annoyed.

    ¡°Finally, some proper food!¡± said Ignasi, taking a pinch of the flour and tasting it. ¡°Let¡¯s go find a stove to warm up.¡±

    The very next house over was larger than average and had a whole room dedicated just to cooking, which was convenient. Most of the goods left there were too old, but H¨¨ctor pointed out some salt and other dried powders that were still usable. The brick stove built into the back wall was close enough to the kind Dirt¡¯s people had used for him to recognize it¡ªa space for firewood and baking, a chimney for the smoke, and a flat metal surface to heat up and cook with. The cook-plate wasn¡¯t very big, just large enough to set a pot on, but it would do. A handsome stack of evenly-chopped firewood lay ready and waiting.

    Poor Socks couldn¡¯t fit that far into the house. He tried to peek through the one window but couldn¡¯t get an angle to watch what was going on, so Dirt shared his sight and the pup sat down outside and closed his eyes.

    Ignasi showed Dirt how humans were supposed to start fires, when they didn¡¯t have magic wolves as friends. Take some wood, shave some of it really thin, then get some slightly larger pieces, and make sparks by rubbing iron on flint, which was a special kind of rock that Dirt couldn¡¯t tell from any other. The sparks made small flames in the kindling, and then you added bigger and bigger sticks until you had a nice fire.

    While Ignasi got the fire going, H¨¨ctor pulled a bowl off a shelf, blew in it to get the dust out, and shook in a couple handfuls of flour. To that he added a few pinches of salt and some dried green flakes and mixed them together with his finger. Then he took a small pot of grease from his backpack and used a spoon to throw a big dollop of it in with the flour. Finally, he dribbled some water from his waterskin and started mixing it all together with one hand.

    Even Dirt could smell how it started to come together. That grease was animal fat, and the scent of the flour changed completely when it got mixed in. H¨¨ctor mashed and squeezed and pulled the dough, adding a bit more of this and that until he was satisfied. When the stove was finally hot enough, he set a frying pan on top and added a tiny bit of grease to the pan, pinched off a ball of dough, flattened it, and fried it on the pan.

    The rich aroma filled the room before Dirt even had time to count to thirty. It smelled nothing like the bread H¨¨ctor had given him that first day. That had been too boring and unappealing to finish. But this was completely different. H¨¨ctor had to keep pushing Dirt away because he couldn¡¯t help but get closer and closer to the frying pan, and he was getting in the way.

    H¨¨ctor slid the flatbread out onto a cool part of the stove and said, ¡°Let that cool off a bit before you pick it up.¡± Then he started cooking another one.

    Dirt waited patiently for about three heartbeats and then grabbed it, burning his fingertips. He hissed and tossed it from hand to hand to keep from burning any further, which made H¨¨ctor chuckle. Before he finally took a bite, he shared his sense of taste with Socks, who was sitting up now and sticking his nose in the window to enjoy the smell.

    The fresh bread was the most incredible thing Dirt had ever tasted. Everything tasted so bold, so vivid. Far more than anything else¡ªblood and meat, innards of various kinds, baby ferns, grubs, eggs. Lots of things had a good flavor but they all seemed mild in comparison.

    The flavor awoke a deep nostalgia in him, colored by Prisca¡¯s memories and the holes left in his own. Memories of doing just this¡ªcooking fresh bread and eating it with friends, gathered around a stove. Or perhaps family. Perhaps both. The taste and scent tugged at his mind so sharply he expected to get some of his own memories back, but they didn¡¯t come. Only the feelings did, the warmth and happiness. Comfort and safety from the weather, affection. There was so much rushing in, yet still so little.

    ¡°Ah,¡± he muttered. He felt his chest tighten as a tear slid down his cheek and dripped off his chin. That made his nose start running and he sniffled. Another tear slid down. He took another bite.

    H¨¨ctor noticed and didn¡¯t know how to react, choosing to look away and ignore it while he cooked the next one.

    ¡°This is really good,¡± said Dirt, quietly, around a mouthful.

    ¡°This is just a start,¡± said Ignasi. ¡°This is only flatbread. Proper bread has leaven to make it large and fluffy. It needs butter and jam on top and currants or sweetmeats baked in. It gets much better than this.¡±

    -I like it too,- said Socks, only to Dirt. His voice took on a note of sympathy as he added, -Strange things make you sad, little Dirt.-

    ¡°I know. I can be silly sometimes. But it¡¯s hard to explain, I just¡­ well¡ª¡±

    -I know exactly how you feel and why. You don¡¯t have to explain,-- said Socks.

    Of course he did. Dirt smiled a little and sent a puff of affection to his wolf.

    H¨¨ctor made enough flatbreads for Dirt to have two, which he appreciated, and for himself and Ignasi to have three. Dirt made them all go sit at the table to eat, each person in a chair. Dirt rested his elbows on the heavy wooden table while he nibbled, but he couldn¡¯t see the appeal. Maybe if there was lots of kinds of food, like drinks in cups and plates with different things on them, it made sense to sit up here instead of just on the ground. You could only hold so many things at once.

    Socks hadn¡¯t gotten anything to eat, though, so as soon as the humans were done, they went outside and Dirt fed him sap from the Home-staff, lump after lump until he was satisfied.

    It seemed like every day it was one more lump than before. The pup really was growing quickly lately. When they¡¯d met, Dirt had to duck slightly to walk under his belly. Now he had to reach his arm up and stretch to touch the fur. Socks¡¯ legs were getting long and lean and his fur was losing some of its poofiness. His face was slowly sharpening, too, growing more predatory to match the big scar over his eye. In the meantime, not a single thing about Dirt had changed at all.

    Oh well. His body was already eight years old and he was only halfway grown. Another eight years, perhaps, and then he¡¯d be an adult. Socks will have been an adult for several years by then, maybe even claimed some territory and taken a mate. Hopefully he¡¯d still want little Dirt around. That thought disquieted him, probably due to the lingering nostalgia.

    -You are worrying about silly things again. I don¡¯t have to take a mate right away. I will wait until you are grown up, and then we can take mates at the same time,- said Socks. Then, to everyone, he said, --I want to go hunt. I will bring back an animal and you will cook it for me. I will share if you do.-

    Ignasi said, ¡°Wonderful! Bring us a fat cow or deer, noble wolf, and we will give you a feast worthy of you.¡±

    -Show Dirt more human things while I am gone. Everything you do is complicated with a lot of steps so make sure he pays attention. Do not let him get hurt.-

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± said Dirt. This got him thinking, though. Complicated, with a lot of steps. Socks was right. How many things did it take to build a house like that? How many pieces? And all the ingredients for bread. He¡¯d never really thought about it that way, but humans should be complicated, with lots of steps. Plans and tools and little pieces of things. Wolfish excellence was found in strength and speed and cunning, in sharp senses and all kinds of magic. In knowledge of ancient things and the world.

    Dirt was learning those things as well as he could and he wasn¡¯t about to stop, but maybe that wasn¡¯t natural to humans. Maybe human excellence was in careful consideration, in accurate plans and fine details. He¡¯d have to watch the men and think that over. It made him curious what human magic was like. He used to know, a long time ago.

    And more relevantly, what could they do with meat, now that they had salt and spices for it? Plain meat cooked over fire hadn¡¯t been that impressive, but now he had to wonder. What did meat become, with a few more steps?

    Speaking of plots and plans, another thought crossed his mind. ¡°Hey, Home? Good morning. Sorry I didn¡¯t say that earlier. I hope you¡¯re having fun with Marina.¡± That was unfortunate phrasing, but oh well. ¡°Is she ready to come back yet?¡±

    The staff twitched but nothing else happened. Dirt rested the staff in the grass just in case, but Marina didn¡¯t appear. ¡°Okay, well, take good care of her, please, and give her back soon.¡± Then, in their language, Dirt said, ¡°So what else is there for me to learn today?¡±

 The Druid - Chapter 14

    It took Socks forever to return with the meat, since the herd was at the far end of the valley. In the meantime, Dirt joined Ignasi and H¨¨ctor as they rummaged around the dead city. One of the first things H¨¨ctor found was a pull-cart designed for a person instead of an animal, which dramatically increased the amount of things they decided they needed. Ignasi saw it and went pale and acted tired, making a big show of how eager he wasn¡¯t to drag that thing across the landscape. H¨¨ctor had to fix it, so Dirt followed Ignasi for a while instead.

    Ignasi was better at looking for things than Dirt was, since he knew what everything was and how people lived, and it didn¡¯t take long to find plenty of stuff worth keeping. Dirt had thought to look for smaller beds, but that wasn¡¯t the case¡ªeveryone put all their children into one, so a house with more than one large bed was the best place to look. A house with just one large bed might have children, but they were poor, which meant they probably only owned the clothes they had on when the goblins attacked.

    Dirt ended up with a full set of clothing to complement his pants. He got a wide, yellow tunic, a red shirt with black borders, and even gray woolen socks and leather shoes that didn¡¯t have any holes in them. Those had belonged to a woman and they were too big for him, but they¡¯d do on the rare occasion he felt like putting something on. To top it off, Ignasi tossed him a good woolen blanket in case he got cold or wanted to sit on it instead of the ground.

    Much of the rest was things Ignasi wanted but Dirt didn¡¯t. Dirt didn¡¯t need any candles or oil, or a second knife, or a spoon, or anything like that. Some things might have been nice but were rotten, like the scented oil. And he didn¡¯t need any dried old medicinal herbs or bandages, since Socks could just lick his cuts. Ignasi took all that stuff. Dirt did, however, take a little pot of salt. And while they didn¡¯t come across any backpacks for him, Ignasi did find a hefty twine sack that he wove a couple straps into and converted. The man even put a little cup at the bottom and a loop at the top so Dirt could rest the Home-staff in it and have both hands free if he wanted.

    -I am coming back. Get the fire ready. A lot of fire. I have a whole bull,- said Socks, to everyone.

    Ignasi laughed and stood up from the bottom-shelf jars he was looking through for more wine, because apparently eleven wasn¡¯t enough bottles now that they had a cart to put them on. ¡°A whole bull. How is he carrying an entire bull? In his teeth?¡±

    Even though the man was talking to himself, Dirt answered, ¡°His father can carry eight bulls at once in his teeth. But Socks is probably carrying it on his back. I bet he¡¯s going slow because it¡¯s heavy or he¡¯d be back already.¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°You have a habit of saying insane things that I can¡¯t help but suspect are true. I hope I never meet his father. Now come. Socks might like you, but I am not interested in testing his patience.¡±

    When they found H¨¨ctor, he was carrying a big armful of crumbling old firewood into the grass where a narrow street had been, right between two short stone walls. He dropped the chopped logs and they fell apart into splinters and sawdust, making him cough.

    ¡°It looks like you have this handled, H¨¨ctor. Shall we leave you to it?¡± said Ignasi, his voice subtly jovial.

    ¡°I wonder if that wolf pup has ever tasted human flesh. Wanna find out?¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°Actually, he has,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I thought you never saw a human before us,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°Socks has. He saw exactly one, before you,¡± said Dirt, trying not to smile. It was Dirt¡¯s flesh he¡¯d tasted, when licking his wounds shut.

    ¡°Wait,¡± said Ignasi.

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°Just get some more firewood. Actually, Dirt, you get the firewood. The stuff in the middle of any stack will be in the best shape. I need a lot, so hurry. Ignasi, I saw some rosemary under a window by that house. Go pick it all and look for more. And get some salt.¡±

    Dirt hopped over the wall and headed to a stack of firewood taller than he was, against the rear wall of the nearest house. It was all split into triangles and stacked tightly, and when he tried to pull some out of the middle, it wouldn¡¯t come. He pulled harder, then harder, and then used a little mana and really gave it a tug.

    The whole stack fell over with a crash and wood went flying everywhere.

    H¨¨ctor called, ¡°Dirt, are you still alive?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m fine!¡± He grabbed as much as he could carry and hustled back around to where H¨¨ctor was. The man pointed at a spot, and Dirt dumped it over the wall.

    ¡°Good. I need twenty more of those.¡±

    ¡°Okay!¡±

    After ten trips, Dirt wondered if there was an easier way to do this, but there probably wasn¡¯t. He could only carry four or five pieces without using mana, and his arms weren¡¯t big enough to carry more than that anyway. Too bad Socks wasn¡¯t here because he could¡¯ve moved the whole stack at once. Dirt decided he really ought to learn the trick of that. Even though he had arms, moving things with his mind would be useful.

    Once H¨¨ctor was satisfied there was enough wood, Dirt watched him stack it in a careful circular pattern that got higher and higher. Inside the circle, he stuffed fibers and shavings and splinters. When the firewood tower was complete, he stepped back and said, ¡°We need a lot of coals, so we¡¯re going to get it burning and topple it when it¡¯s ready. Now go find me a rake.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a rake?¡±

    ¡°Never mind, then. Sit over there and stay out of the way,¡± said H¨¨ctor. Dirt obliged and took a seat on the wall. The man knelt with a flint and steel and popped off a bunch of sparks until finally one caught and a thin wisp of smoke appeared. He blew on the tiny flame and it was only a moment before the entire stack was burning, sending flames five paces into the air and creating a trail of smoke poofs that reached much higher than that.

    Ignasi returned with a wicker basket containing an alarming amount of rosemary, which was a plant with thin, needle-like leaves and a sharp scent. ¡°Think this¡¯ll be enough, dear H¨¨ctor?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a start,¡± he said with a flat voice and a twinkle in his black eyes.

    ¡°Come help me chop this up, Dirt,¡± said Ignasi. He headed toward the nearest house and Dirt followed him in. He headed to the cooking area and pulled out a hard, graying panel of wood and set it on the table. ¡°This is a cutting board. That is a knife. I suppose you can guess what I want you to do?¡±

    ¡°I can guess. But I¡¯m going to use my own knife instead of that rusty one.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t. You¡¯ll dull it with all the chopping.¡±

    ¡°It hasn¡¯t gotten dull yet. I didn¡¯t know that could happen.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean it hasn¡¯t gotten dull?¡± said Ignasi. He gently plucked it from Dirt¡¯s hands and tested the edge. Then he held it out in both palms and gave it a good look.

    ¡°I cut all sorts of stuff with it. Wood, mostly, but sometimes flesh or bones. And Socks and I used it to fight a couple times. He chops things up with it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never sharpened it? Have you ever oiled it to keep the rust off?¡±

    ¡°No. Was I supposed to? Where do I get oil?¡±

    ¡°Well, I suppose we¡¯re about to find out if it will need sharpening. Start chopping. That rosemary deserves it.¡±

    Dirt obliged, hacking away and trying to cut every leaf at least once. Ignasi went next door to get another cutting board, and when he returned the two of them made short work of the rosemary, leaving a giant stack in the middle of the table.

    The scent was incredible. It was complex and sharp and curious, unlike anything Dirt had ever smelled before. It didn¡¯t smell edible, was the main thing, and when Dirt tasted some it was bitter. The oils from the plant seeped into his fingers and they smelled like rosemary long afterward.

    Ignasi took Dirt¡¯s knife again to give it another examination. He held up a length of cloth and ran the edge against it, and the cloth sliced in two just as expected.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°H¨¨ctor,¡± called Ignasi.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Guess what Dirt has?¡±

    ¡°A boil?¡±

    ¡°Even better. An eternal blade.¡±

    To Dirt¡¯s surprise, H¨¨ctor stepped away from the fire without complaint and came in to see. ¡°Look at this.¡±

    The other man took it and examined it closely, from smooth hilt to tip. Ignasi said, ¡°He says he¡¯s never sharpened or oiled it.¡±

    ¡°Where did you get this?¡± asked H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°In a tomb. Socks and I found an old city and explored it.¡±

    The man regarded him, eyes piercing again, and Dirt peeked at his mind just a little. H¨¨ctor wasn¡¯t sure if Dirt was lying, and the boy¡¯s face wasn¡¯t giving it away.

    ¡°Do you mind if I try to dull the blade a little? If I do, I¡¯ll sharpen it for you,¡± he asked.

    ¡°Sure, go ahead.¡±

    H¨¨ctor stepped around to an unused corner of the table and smacked the edge into the wood, at least twenty times. He swung with force but didn¡¯t keep his arm rigid to try and cut through. Just enough to flatten the edge, not that it would do him any good. Dirt had tried to cut a rock once, and while it hadn¡¯t worked, it also didn¡¯t hurt the knife.

    ¡°What¡¯s an eternal blade?¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°A blade that never needs sharpening. I only know of two, but there are supposedly more. One is a sword held by our King, and if anyone else touches it, they¡¯re executed immediately, no matter who it is. The other is just a rumor, but it¡¯s a dagger much like this one, I suppose. It¡¯s called the Wandering Curse and anyone who picks it up can never drop it until they kill a loved one. In the days of the old kingdom, a man held it his whole life, never putting it down until he died. They buried it with him and someone dug up the grave a week later.¡±

    ¡°If there¡¯s only two, how come you have a name for them?¡±

    Ignasi shrugged. ¡°Because they come from ancient times, so old no one can name the kingdoms that made them. Tradition holds that the King¡¯s sword wasn¡¯t forged by humans, but I don¡¯t believe that. And like I said, there are supposed to be more. I hope this is a third, and not the Wandering Curse.¡±

    ¡°Well, I can put it down,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Good point.¡±

    -I am here. Come out.-

    H¨¨ctor turned immediately and stepped out, mouth pursed like he was still thinking. Dirt and Ignasi followed him out.

    Socks was near the road and stood over a headless bovine, missing all its guts. His face was bloody from ears to whiskers, and judging by how he wagged his tail, he¡¯d been enjoying himself.

    -Cook it,- said Socks.

    ¡°We¡¯re just getting the fire ready. It¡¯s going to take a while. I hope you don¡¯t mind,¡± said H¨¨ctor, voice unsure, like he was trying to decide how polite he wanted to sound. ¡°Can you pick up things that are burning like you pick up little Dirt, there? Or would that hurt you somehow?¡±

    -It won¡¯t hurt me. The fire has to get on me for it to hurt,- said Socks.

    ¡°Good. Then can you knock that burning tower over and spread it around right there? Wait, here,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He took a stick and drew two lines, making a square with the stone walls on either side. ¡°Try and push all the wood between these lines and spread it out evenly.¡±

    Socks paused, thinking, head tilted as he stared at the tower. The pup¡¯s mind spun as he puzzled out the best way to go about it. He glanced at the stone fences to either side and got an idea. The tower crashed forward in a huge shower of sparks. A rush of heat hit Dirt all the back by the doorway, but instead of going everywhere, the burning logs crashed into an invisible wall and bounced around inside it. They came to rest in a near-even layer on the ground and Socks spread them just a bit more to make it flat.

    -¡°Oh, you did it different!¡± thought Dirt.

    --I never tried it like that. I always only grabbed things, but I can put a barrier. It was a lot easier than grabbing each piece,- said Socks, just to him.

    ¡°You could do all sorts of things with that. Can you make it big and block the wind?¡±

    -I bet I could. I¡¯ll practice. How are they going to cook it?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t actually know,¡± replied Dirt. Then, aloud, he said, ¡°So how are we going to cook it? Do we just throw it on the fire?¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°It has to be above the fire to cook, not in it. It¡¯ll just burn if we throw it in. Ignasi, get a pot for the fat.¡±

    He stepped over near the fire, more ember than flame now and hot enough he had to squint. He picked up some rusty metal poles that Dirt hadn¡¯t noticed before and held them up. ¡°We¡¯re going to put the meat on these and hold it over the fire that way. Come here.¡±

    Dirt followed H¨¨ctor to the dead bull, where the man knelt and got to work with Dirt¡¯s knife. Dirt and Socks watched with great interest as the man took the carcass apart. First he removed the skin in one large piece and lay it out nearby. Next, using clever spiral cuts, he removed the meat in long chunks no more than a finger¡¯s length thick, which he piled up on the skin. He also removed the fat and set it all in a heap on a different section of skin.

    Ignasi brought out the chopped rosemary in a bundle of cloth, which he set near the carcass along with a pot of salt. Then he scooped up all the fat into a metal pot and carried it back inside.

    Dirt and H¨¨ctor salted the meat and rubbed rosemary all over it, then skewered it on the metal in a wavy pattern that helped them pack as much on as possible. Once as much of the meat was ready as they were going to fit, which was most of it, Socks lifted the roasts and set them over the fire, with the metal poles held up by the two stone fences.

    Socks sat down close to the fire so he could watch and smell it as it cooked, since the scent changed over time. Dirt sat inside his front paw, arm resting on the pup¡¯s foreleg. ¡°It already smells good. How long does it take?¡± he asked.

    H¨¨ctor sat nearby, but still a couple body lengths from the pup. ¡°A few hours, I¡¯m guessing. I¡¯ve never cooked this much at once, but it won¡¯t be done at the same time. We¡¯ll eat it bit by bit. Or Socks will, I suppose.¡±

    -You little humans don¡¯t eat very much. I can share.-

    ¡°I figured. Thanks. Dirt, I want to hear more about that ruined city where you found this knife,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    Dirt told the whole story, starting with those rolling hills and chasing the deer. How they¡¯d seen the road and followed it up to find a whole city up there. Its name had been Ocriculum, he now knew, and that statue was a famous hero that Prisca¡¯s memories recognized but didn¡¯t name. Dirt talked about walking into the buildings and wondering what it had been like when people lived there, but didn¡¯t mention how he was sure he recognized it and started crying.

    He told how they¡¯d found the rusted metal doors to the underground and explored, accidentally letting out the smoke monster and how Father scared it off with a howl. Both H¨¨ctor and Ignasi shifted uncomfortably at that part, and Dirt didn¡¯t need to see their minds to know they¡¯d been waiting for something like that, something to justify not doing what Dirt had been up to. Humans didn¡¯t seem to do a lot of exploring these days. He left out the twisted statue of the god in that giant burial room, though, since he still wasn¡¯t sure himself what to think about it. The story ended with him opening the tomb and taking the knife.

    H¨¨ctor had a certain glint in his eye and his mind spun with possibilities he shied away from instead of embracing. Things he wasn¡¯t sure he dared let himself dream. Finally, he asked, ¡°Do you think there are more? More knives, or other treasures in a place like that?¡±

    ¡°Probably. We only opened one tomb. And the lamps still worked, if you wanted to take those. Why? Are you thinking of going on an adventure?¡±

    H¨¨ctor snorted. ¡°No, no, this is more than enough of an adventure for one lifetime. We might save a lot of lives if we succeed. Maybe turn back the end for just a while. I¡¯m content to do one thing that matters. But I can wonder. All that gold, and maybe even an eternal blade. I never thought I¡¯d see one.¡±

    Ignasi had been listening from the doorway nearby, close enough he could peek back at the pot of fat every so often, and the men fell silent after that. Dirt only allowed himself a few peeks at their thoughts, and both men were thinking bright and vivid things, grand imaginings about unearthing gold and other treasures and winning fame and comfort.

    Just the glimpses Dirt got filled him with that familiar longing for his lost people, that grand and beautiful empire. These men dreamed of winning a few scraps, but they¡¯d never know the truth of it, how glorious it had been.

    --You told me not to let you think about that too much,- Socks told him.

    Dirt grinned. He¡¯d said that, hadn¡¯t he? It always made him sad. To change things up, he held up the Home-staff and said, ¡°Home, I hope you¡¯re having fun watching this. It¡¯s interesting, isn¡¯t it? Will you ask Marina if she wants to come join us for dinner? Are you done with her? Is she ready to come back?¡±

    The staff shook slightly in response and then fell still again. A moment later it vibrated so strongly he almost dropped it, since he wasn¡¯t holding it very tightly. It kept trying to jerk toward an open spot of grass, so he stood up and carried it over, set it down, and stepped back.

    Marina appeared with a heavy thud and a groan, like she¡¯d fallen from above and landed there. Even expecting it, Dirt still jumped in startlement and took a second to process what he was looking at.

    ¡°Oh¡­ Oh! Look, she¡¯s back!¡± Dirt yelled. The men had been watching, though, and already knew. They hurried over while Dirt rolled the poor woman onto her back and wiped the hair out of her face. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Marina. Just lay there for a moment. You¡¯ll feel better soon. Trust me, I know. Can one of you give her a little water?¡±

    ¡°Ow,¡± groaned Marina. Her clothing was all dirty now, especially below the knees, which Dirt only noticed because the dirt was black and stood out. Her straight brown hair stuck to beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and her narrow face was pinched with pain.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± asked H¨¨ctor, leaning in.

    ¡°Ow, I said.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. The first time the trees did this to me, it made me so sick I thought I was dying. They¡¯ve gotten gentler, but not by much.¡± Dirt patted her head softly.

    ¡°Thank you, Dirt, but that doesn¡¯t help. Would all of you back up a little and give me room to breathe?¡± she said.

    Dirt and the men obliged, getting up and moving back a step or two. Socks, however, leaned down and sniffed her thoroughly. -She smells like ferns and dirt. Dirt¡¯s dirt.-

    ¡°I miss that dirt,¡± said Dirt. He leaned in and sniffed as well. ¡°She does. You smell like my dirt, Marina.¡±

    ¡°Thank you? Wait, what was that?¡± Marina said, confused. She sat up and looked around, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. ¡°That voice?¡±

    ---That was me, silly human,- said Socks, wagging his tail.

    ¡°Socks?¡± she said.

    -Yes.-

    She slumped back into the grass and rubbed her forehead. ¡°Ow.¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°Believe it or not, the giant wolf who speaks in our minds is not the most frightening thing we saw while you were gone.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you have no idea what frightening is,¡± said Marina.

    ¡°I think we have some idea,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    Marina sat up again, color returning to her face. Dirt peeked at her mind just to be sure, and fortunately the dizziness was wearing off now. She was fine.

    ¡°So, dear Marina, what do you have to say for yourself? Where have you been, while we were doing all the work?¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°Where do I start? I guess with this,¡± she said, holding up one hand to show a bracelet of living green vines wound tightly around her wrist.

 The Druid - Chapter 15

    ¡°The dryads¡ªthe trees¡ªput this on me. At first, I only talked to one, whose name was Home,¡± said Marina, showing the bracelet of twisting vines. She used Dirt¡¯s word for Home, not her language. ¡°She was a little gray child, a girl, with green hair. But there were others, hundreds more, mostly little girls, but there was at least one boy. None of them were as naked as Dirt, except that one. The rest covered themselves with little leaves or moss. It was¡ªOh, those trees!¡±

    She paused and looked up at the few clouds floating softly in the sky, remembering.

    ¡°I told you the trees were big,¡± said Dirt, grinning smugly.

    ¡°What were they like?¡± asked Ignasi.

    ¡°If I had to guess, not counting the roots, which were huge themselves, the trunks were maybe forty paces across? I have no idea how tall they were. Too tall to even guess. But the lowest leaves must have been higher than those clouds. It felt like a dream. The whole time, seriously, everything felt like a dream.¡±

    ¡°Was the naked one Callius?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°I think so. He asked me a few questions about you, but I hardly saw him after that,¡± said Marina.

    ¡°He was showing off, then. It¡¯s harder to do a whole body,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Huh. Well, mostly I talked with Home and Ona and Montse.¡±

    ¡°Wait, who are Ona and Montse? Were they dryads?¡±

    ¡°They certainly weren¡¯t human. But those two were girls the first time I saw them, and right in front of my eyes they grew into women. Young women, perfect and beautiful,¡± said Marina. ¡°I¡¯m sure I screamed. That was one thing that I never got used to¡ªhow often they liked to shift their features or shape right in front of me.¡±

    ¡°I never met those ones, I guess,¡± said Dirt, unsure how he felt about that. It felt like she¡¯d been treading uninvited on his ground and found things he didn¡¯t know about.

    ¡°Oh, you did. They knew you. They just didn¡¯t have names. I named a whole bunch of them,¡± said Marina. ¡°That was quite a day. It was my first day there, after the night they took me. Dawn asked me something and I told her I knew more names than I could list, and then all day after that, every few minutes another one would just appear, standing right over there like she sprang up from the ground, and ask me for a name. At first, they asked me what the names all meant, but I kept saying I didn¡¯t know because they¡¯re just names, and eventually they gave up. I think to them, every name has a meaning instead of just a, a sound, I guess.¡±

    As she talked, her eyes looked into the distant horizon, or up at the clouds, or into the embers of the fire. Always distant and always moving, as if her memories were all out there somewhere, waiting until she looked at them before they came back to her.

    Dirt said, ¡°I like how there¡¯s always the leaves up there, never just sky. It makes it feel like you¡¯re always inside. I used to get scared of the sky because I had nightmares about falling up into nothing.¡±

    ¡°Well, it just made me dizzy, and if I kept looking, I¡¯d get nauseous. It¡¯s too high up. Too big. Something about them just isn¡¯t right.¡±

    ¡°Dear Marina, I think you¡¯ve told us about everything except the bracelet,¡± said Ignasi, eyes twinkling.

    She looked at him, face blank for an instant. ¡°I¡¯m getting to it,¡± she said, unconvincingly. ¡°Actually, let me just start over. The night they took me, I was sure I was going to die from the bite. I knew how bad it was. But then I got¡­ transferred? It hurt, and it was fast, and at the other end I was stunned. It was darker there, the shadows deeper, and all around me are these little girls with glassy eyes. They almost look like dolls, except they move like people. I can see they have gray skin, and their hair is all green, and they¡¯re wearing clothing of moss or leaves but none of it matches. And I¡¯m lying in this damp, wet dirt, blacker than any I¡¯ve ever seen before, and one of them says something in a language I don¡¯t recognize.¡±

    Dirt nodded and said, ¡°They were probably speaking my language. I didn¡¯t know there was more than one language until I met you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m getting to that. Just listen. So this little girl smiles at me with all the grace of an old lady and babbles something, and I scream. I have no idea what¡¯s going on or where I am, and she terrifies me. I try to get up and run, but there¡¯s nowhere to go because I don¡¯t recognize anything. There¡¯s nothing to recognize. Just trees, but I didn¡¯t understand that at first. Not until the next morning. I thought there was another earth up there, a whole different world, and the tree trunks were pillars holding the two together,¡± said Marina. She paused again and leaned over the fire to examine the meat and rotate the spits, but Dirt suspected it had more to do with trying to gather her thoughts than minding the fire.

    She continued, ¡°They grabbed me and held me down, and the little girl talks again, and I can see her face is sad, full of compassion, and she¡¯s trying to explain but I don¡¯t understand a word. I¡¯m screaming, and she¡¯s trying to calm me down, but there are twenty more of these horrid little monster girls holding me down, and then¡­ then nothing. I wake up the next morning in a bed, right out in the open. I think it was the same spot.¡±

    ¡°Was it a bed of those little fiber clumps?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it was.¡±

    ¡°I love those things. The only thing better is puppy fur.¡±

    ¡°Just let her talk, Dirt,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He didn¡¯t look angry, though.

    ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s fine, H¨¨ctor. And yes, it was comfortable, but that¡¯s not what I was thinking about at the time. It was cold and foggy and I couldn¡¯t see the trees anymore. It was early, still twilight, and I can¡¯t see anything. I¡¯m looking in every direction and there¡¯s nothing. I can¡¯t see ten feet in any direction. Just my bed, and ferns. That¡¯s it. I¡¯m starting to think I died, honestly. I¡¯m thinking, Marina, this is the underworld. That¡¯s why there¡¯s a second earth up above. You¡¯re in the land of the dead. It¡¯s not so bad, really. Comfortable. Restful, maybe, if those horrid children stay away. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be back, though, so I sit up and that¡¯s when I realize my stomach isn¡¯t injured anymore. Even my clothing is stitched up, but I can see where it was stitched. I pull up my shirt and all I find are little lines where the teeth marks should have been. No redness, nothing. No pain.¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°Noble Socks licking my arm had the same effect. By the next morning, I hardly knew I¡¯d been bitten.¡±

    ¡°Incredible, right? Well, at this point I¡¯m sure I¡¯m dead. I¡¯m sure I¡¯m dead. And then she appears¡ªthe one from last night. Except now I can understand her. She says her name is Home, and she¡¯s a friend of Dirt¡¯s. I ask if I¡¯m dead, and she chuckles like an old woman. Not a little girl giggle.

    ¡°I finally take the time to get a good look at her, and I still can¡¯t tell what she is. I¡¯m wondering if she¡¯s a witch, maybe, or something worse. A living puppet, except she¡¯s far too realistic for that. She moves like a living thing. So then I think maybe they¡¯re elves, some kind of fae I¡¯ve never heard of, and I¡¯m in the land of Faerie. Either that or dead, and they¡¯re spirits from below. My mind is spinning, but I feel alive, so I¡¯m not sure.

    ¡°She sees how upset I am and gently rests her hand on mine, in a comforting sort of way. She says she healed me and she wants to learn more about me, with my permission, because she¡¯ll learn much in the process. What I¡¯m made of. How I¡¯m put together. I don¡¯t understand her at first, because what on earth could that mean? But she wants to give me something as her part of a bargain, so what do I want?¡±

    Marina paused again, a fingertip rubbing along the braids in the bracelet. She gazed deep into the fire and Dirt and the others all waited, hardly breathing, to find out what came next. But she was content to let them wait, deep in thought. Finally she said, ¡°I told her I wanted a child.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t!¡± hissed Ignasi.

    ¡°Did you¡­ get one?¡± asked H¨¨ctor, eyes deeply wary.

    ¡°It¡¯s not what you think. She wasn¡¯t a witch. She¡¯s a tree, like Dirt said. But I tell her I want a child, and that¡¯s all I want, but I¡¯m barren. She smiles at me and says, ¡®We have learned much, but there is still more we wish to learn.¡¯ And then she says she can fix me, fix my womb so I can bear children, and she will do it for free, asking nothing in return. But if I¡¯m willing, then when I get with child, they want me to come back, and they¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s born healthy and strong.¡±

    ¡°She wants to take your child?¡± asked H¨¨ctor, his eyes a little wider in concern.

    Dirt cut in to say, ¡°No, I¡¯m sure they just wanted to see how it grows. They don¡¯t know anything about the world. They¡¯re trees. They didn¡¯t even have eyes until they made dryads. They didn¡¯t know what the world was.¡±

    H¨¨ctor and Ignasi both shot him a short glare for interrupting, but Marina said, ¡°Yes, as the boy says. Home explained what Dirt just said. She says she¡¯s curious about the world, how babies are formed and how they grow. She explains that inside me are halves of a seed, and the other half comes from a male, and those grow into a new life. She says if I let them figure out how I¡¯m put together, they¡¯ll find out why my part isn¡¯t working and why I¡¯m barren, and fix it.¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not true,¡± said Ignasi. ¡°Women do not have seed.¡±

    ¡°I know. But still, she was pretty convincing. And certain. She was absolutely certain.¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯s the bracelet for?¡± asked H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting to that. She looks at me with those glassy eyes and her face is full of wisdom and concern, like an old lady¡¯s, like I said. Except she¡¯s a child, and not human. So I say I don¡¯t know, and she promises it won¡¯t hurt, because they have a lot of practice. Well, that doesn¡¯t help either, because so does the butcher. But then she says she practiced on Dirt, and he¡¯s fine, isn¡¯t he? She says all I have to do is lie down and hold still. No pain.

    ¡°Well, obviously, they have my attention. If they can make me fertile again, any price would be worth it. So I do it. I lay down on the bed and tell them to go ahead. I¡¯m scared and I have no idea what¡¯s about to happen, but Home smiles and rests her hand on my forehead, and I fall asleep. Then I wake up a short time later, and it¡¯s already over. That was it,¡± said Marina.

    ¡°Wait, they put you to sleep first? Lucky,¡± said Dirt.

    Marina shrugged, having hardly noticed he spoke, too engrossed in her story. ¡°Yep. Home tells me there was a problem with a passage in my womb, and my seed-half couldn¡¯t get to the right place, and now it¡¯s fixed. I¡¯m fertile again. Just like that. A short nap, and I¡¯m fertile. She also said there was something wrong with my heart, and she fixed that too. I say it was Home, but it wasn¡¯t just her. There were others around. Always. Usually just a few close by, but always dozens out there in the ferns, watching.

    ¡°She helps me get up, but I feel fine. I thank her and ask where we are. She says she doesn¡¯t know, but would I like to see her tree? Then she points at the biggest tree I¡¯ve ever seen, and I finally realize it¡¯s a tree, because the fog has lifted and I can get a good look at it. This is when I realize I¡¯m in the place Dirt told us about¡ªthat giant forest. These are the dryads, his friends. I guess that means they were puppets after all, just very good ones.

    ¡°They show me around and there¡¯s all sorts of things going on. Lots of work. They¡¯re preparing something, so I ask them what, and they tell me, except it¡¯s a secret. It¡¯s a gift for Dirt, and you¡¯ll find out next time you visit. That¡¯s what they told me. I guess I shouldn¡¯t say any more about that. But they show me all sorts of things, like Dirt¡¯s little house under Home¡¯s branches, and some old ruins. They asked me if I knew what they were, but I had no idea. It was old, though. Very, very old.¡±

    ¡°So, the bracelet?¡± asked Ignasi again, a twinkle in his eye.

    ¡°Oh, fine. The bracelet. It¡¯ll bring me back to her when I¡¯m pregnant again. And in the meantime, it¡¯ll help me keep healthy and make sure I don¡¯t run out of seed halves before that happens. I told her it takes nine months for a child to grow, so she wants me to stay there during the whole pregnancy,¡± said Marina. She rubbed the bracelet again and Dirt could see something healthy in her face, like a happy sort of hunger. Yearning, about to be fulfilled.

    ¡°Was that all, or was there more to the deal?¡± asked H¨¨ctor.

    Marina looked at him, her brown eyes sparking at first and then withdrawing. Dirt could tell she didn¡¯t want to say the rest, but it was too late. She¡¯d have to. ¡°No, there was more.¡±

    ¡°Do you have to give the evil fae your child?¡± asked Ignasi, humor in his voice. His eyes, however, looked more serious now.

    ¡°Sort of.¡±

    ¡°Marina!¡± shouted H¨¨ctor and Ignasi at the same time.

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that! Listen to the rest first,¡± said Marina. She crossed her arms over her knees and looked back into the fire. ¡°Home told me if I agree to give birth there and let them watch the child¡¯s first few months, then I¡¯ll never get sick. Any wounds I get will close and never take a rot. If I agree, then I¡¯m certain to die of old age.

    ¡°So I¡¯m thinking to myself, if I have a baby, or even several, I want to watch them grow up. I have to be alive for that to happen, but so do they. So many die, you know? So I say, ¡®Then you have to promise to keep them healthy as well,¡¯ and she agrees,¡± said Marina. ¡°I think that¡¯s what she was hoping for in the first place. But I¡¯ve heard worse agreements, right?¡±

    She shrugged and looked at her companions for affirmation, but they had their brows furrowed and didn¡¯t even nod. She continued, ¡°So that¡¯s the deal. My children will be born there, but I¡¯m free to leave after a time, with my child. It¡¯s not so bad there, I don¡¯t think. I wasn¡¯t there long enough for everything to stop feeling creepy, but I could get used to it. They don¡¯t know how unnerving they are. And a child wouldn¡¯t know any better.¡±

    ¡°There are worse places to live,¡± said Dirt, quietly.

    The other humans looked at him, then looked away before meeting his gaze.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Dirt, I know you¡¯re from there, but¡­¡± said Marina, trailing off.

    Dirt found he had nothing to say. Hearing her talk about his beloved trees in a way anything other than glowing affection bothered him. He understood, of course; he knew better than anyone how scary they could be at first. But they were still his friends, and he still loved them.

    ¡°Dear Dirt, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, did you make any bargains with them as well?¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°Oh, no, nothing like that. They¡¯re my friends. For example, I agreed to carry this everywhere, which is part of Home,¡± said Dirt, gesturing with the staff. ¡°But it¡¯s because I want her to see the world with me. She can¡¯t really travel on her own because she¡¯s a tree. She makes me sap and water if I need it, and she¡¯s also a really good weapon when I need one. But it¡¯s not because we have a deal. It¡¯s because we¡¯re friends.¡±

    Marina went pale and said, ¡°Oh, I forgot about that. She¡¯s watching through that staff right now, isn¡¯t she? I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to call them creepy. I just¡ª¡±

    Dirt grinned and interrupted. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about that. Home is way, way, too old and way too powerful to get offended by a little tiny human. If anything, she¡¯s going to fret that you didn¡¯t say anything about it when you were there so she could figure out what you meant. Although she¡¯s so smart I¡¯m sure she already did.¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°So will you live out your days in that forest, once you get pregnant?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, just for a while. But maybe. If the dryads aren¡¯t going to hurt me, then I can¡¯t picture anything else there being any threat whatsoever,¡± said Marina.

    ¡°Well, mostly there aren¡¯t any threats. Not anymore,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Goblins, although the dryads kill them now. And there was a gryphon once. There might be other things. The really bad one was the living skeleton named Prisca. She was¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop! Stop right there, Dirt. I don¡¯t want to hear about any walking skeletons when I¡¯m sitting within arm¡¯s reach of so many non-living ones,¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°Stop being so cowardly about skeletons,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°They¡¯re just bones.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and boats are just floaty wood, but you still won¡¯t get on one, will you, H¨¨ctor?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the same.¡±

    Marina said, ¡°That was one thing they showed me. The building where¡­ Prisca was. It was incredible. I¡¯ve never seen a building so grand.¡±

    ¡°It looked better when it was new,¡± said Dirt, sighing.

    Marina just gave him a curious look, and Dirt realized what he¡¯d just said. ¡°Not that I would know. Just from how it looks now,¡± he hastily added.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s all collapsing now. The pillars are cracked and fallen, part of the roof caved in, the whole garden is so overgrown there¡¯s nothing left, the roof lost most of its arch. Stuff like that.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Pardon me. I¡¯ve said too much,¡± said Marina.

    ¡°What? What did you say? I¡¯m confused,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Never mind. I think some of the meat is done. Don¡¯t you, H¨¨ctor?¡±

    Dirt recognized she was hiding something, but before he could peek at her mind and see what it was, Socks said, just to him, -Don¡¯t look. And don¡¯t ask why. I know what she is thinking about and you will be happier if you find out later.-

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s hardly fair.¡±

    -It¡¯s perfectly fair. Just trust me. And don¡¯t think too hard about it either.-

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    Dirt scowled, and since shifting his mind away from a good puzzle was near impossible, he stood up and stepped over to the fire to watch Hector cutting and testing different sections of meat.

    The man poked at a spit on the edge whose meat was sliced thinner and wrapper tighter than most of the rest. After peeling a length of it away from the iron bar, he nodded and sliced off quite a bit, which he deposited on a serving platter. It would scarcely make a bite for Socks, but it was enough for the four humans to eat their fill with plenty left over. Even so, H¨¨ctor decided it would be more prudent to share with the giant hungry wolf than make him wait. He put a few decent slices onto some plates that Ignasi had brought out and took the rest over to Socks.

    ¡°How do you want to do this? Do you want to lick it off, or open up and have me throw it in?¡±

    Socks eagerly rose to his feet and got his nose close to the platter. -I will do it. I am worried you will miss.-

    The sliced meat lifted from the platter in a bundle and Socks snapped his jaws to bite it right out of the air. He let it linger on his tongue, enjoying the flavor, then chewed a little to try and spread it out before finally swallowing.

    ¡°Well? Worth all the wait and effort?¡± asked H¨¨ctor.

    -Yes.- I like it.- The pup sniffed the fire, already ready for more. He¡¯d have to wait, though. -Humans are silly, but this is clever.-

    Dirt¡¯s mouth watered as he took his plate from Ignasi. The aroma, now that it was right in front of his face, was incredible. The rosemary turned the meat into something else, giving it a richness that he¡¯d never experienced. He waved his hand over the plate to cool it off a bit, then picked it up and took a bite.

    He¡¯d thought the bread was the best thing he¡¯d ever had in his life, and maybe it was up to that point. But this was far, far beyond that. The meat had layers¡ªa bit of ash and char, a gray well-cooked section, and some paler red in the middle. It dripped juices that Dirt slurped up. The spices complemented the flavor perfectly and the salt brought out the flavor in a way he never would have guessed. It was incredible.

    ¡°Do you like it?¡± asked Ignasi, amused. ¡°Look, his mouth is too full to answer. I guess he does.¡±

    Dirt nodded vigorously and took another bite, exactly as much as he could possibly fit and still chew. He did so slowly, letting the juices mingle and run down his throat on their own.

    The rest of the day passed much like that¡ªMarina shared her experiences with the dryads while the meat cooked, and as more sections were ready, everyone ate their fill. Ignasi and H¨¨ctor told her what had happened while she was gone, although they were a bit vague about precisely where Dirt had gotten the lights he¡¯d used to chase off the angry ghosts.

    By the time night fell, the embers were low and quiet and Socks had eaten almost the entire bull. He rested his head on the ground near Dirt, who idly petted and scratched the areas he could reach. The two of them silently sent puffs of affection and enjoyment back and forth as they began to nod off.

    But it wasn¡¯t time to end the day just yet. The humans¡¯ conversation turned to their plans for tomorrow, which were mostly just more rummaging around for things, and maybe checking out the upper floors of the tower.

    -Socks had other ideas, however, and told everyone, --That is not the plan for tomorrow. It is time for Dirt and I to leave. We have been here too long already. You can come with us if you promise to hurry.-

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± asked Marina.

    -It doesn¡¯t matter, but somewhere new.-

    ¡°Then how about we go to the city together and find out if it¡¯s still there?¡±

    ¡°Do you know the way from here?¡± asked Ignasi.

    ¡°I¡¯m certain,¡± said Marina. ¡°That way. We follow those mountains until they flatten out onto the plain, and cross from there. When we get to the hills, we should start finding farms and it should be obvious the rest of the way.¡±

    --Then we will go look at all the humans in the city. Climb up so we can go to sleep now, Dirt.-

 The Druid - Chapter 16

    Dirt woke several times during the night, sure he heard ghostly whispers. But each time, all was silent except for the wind, which blew in long, steady gusts. Sometimes someone shifted in their blankets, or Marina breathed loudly. At one point, H¨¨ctor started making a terrible sound that took Dirt a moment to recognize as snoring, since he¡¯d never heard it before. After only a moment, though, Dirt heard a smack and H¨¨ctor rolled over and quit. One of the other two must have hit him.

    Socks didn¡¯t let him stay awake for long, though, and quickly dragged him back into their shared dreams. They walked on the clouds in an upside-down world, with the ground and buildings and hills and everything high above them; they had to hop from place to place to keep from falling into the blue abyss. They chased birds and peculiar little balls of colored light that danced and laughed any time one of them got close, and explored caves and castles of white that couldn¡¯t be seen from the ground.

    He woke with a wistful sort of weariness, regretting the dream was over and remembering the majesty of that inverted landscape, and not feeling like he¡¯d gotten enough sleep. He lay there for a while waiting for Socks to wake up and wondered if it had been whispers that woke him up once or twice.

    Did ghosts have anywhere else to go? He suspected these ones¡¯ ability to affect the world had been greatly diminished, but what happened to them in general? Did the dead just hang around, waiting for a new body to be born in? The dryads said everyone only ever gets the same one and has to wait for it to reappear.

    He thought about the purple smoke monster that had been waiting in the mausoleum for so long, the one Father had scared off. And the god, fallen from his pedestal and laying on the floor, twisted and tortured. Maybe the god was supposed to be helping the dead and couldn¡¯t anymore, leaving them to wander. Thousands of years like that, possibly, with no shepherd to guide them to their next destination.

    There was darkness in that thought. Guilt. Maybe Dirt had caused all this when he broke the world. Not only had he thrown down the entire empire, but also the gods and everything that depended on them. It left him melancholy, his mood bitter and gray like the low and roiling clouds that had rolled in overnight.

    Until Socks woke up, that is. The pup woke with such a start that Dirt tumbled roughly to the ground when he leaped up to stand. --Sorry.-

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Good morning, Socks.¡±

    The pup leaned down to sniff Dirt a couple times, then gave him one quick little lick and raised his head back up to look around warily. The pup seemed restless and when Dirt looked at his mind, he found fear and the memory of pain. Jaws from the earth. Terror.

    -I sense the Devourer. We have been here too long. He is not here yet, but he will find us if we wait,- said Socks, timidly. Gone were the bravado and reckless curiosity. For once, the pup sounded like the soft little child he still was, when measured against his own kind.

    Ignasi was nearby, just over by the fire poking around to see if there were still any warm coals. H¨¨ctor and Marina were in the house by the table in the front room, where they¡¯d pulled everything out of her pack to check it all.

    ¡°Good morning, you two,¡± said Ignasi, rising and spinning the stick he held. He had an open bottle of wine and took a little sip. He pointed the stick upward and said, ¡°It looks like we¡¯ll have to stay a while longer, noble Socks. The rain will be nasty, I am sure.¡±

    Socks said, to everyone, -Dirt and I are leaving right now. If you want to come with us then you have to come right now, and you have to promise to hurry or we will leave you. I am only bringing you because Dirt wants to find the humans and we don¡¯t know where they are.-

    That was a surprise, but not much of one. Socks didn¡¯t scare easily, and those scars on his stomach hadn¡¯t come from anything they¡¯d done together.

    It didn¡¯t seem like much of a surprise for H¨¨ctor, somehow. To Dirt¡¯s amazement, he stepped out of the house and said, ¡°Understood. How long have we got to prepare?¡±

    --Put those things in the bag and we will leave right now.-

    ¡°You got it,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He stepped inside and started throwing Marina¡¯s things back into her backpack while she watched in confusion.

    Ignasi said, ¡°What¡¯s the rush, exactly?¡± He moved slowly toward his pack and wistfully stoppered the wine.

    Socks didn¡¯t answer, instead raising his nose to smell the wind. His head turned every direction and he stepped from side to side, unable to keep still. Dirt put his little backpack on and sent Socks a mental puff of encouragement.

    Marina finally asked, ¡°H¨¨ctor, what¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re leaving. You heard the wolf,¡± said H¨¨ctor. He quickly made his way to his own pack, where he rolled his blanket back up and tied it on.

    --You are good at hurrying,- said Socks appreciatively.

    ¡°No, I feel it too,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°We need to leave. There¡¯s something on the wind I don¡¯t like.¡±

    Marina stepped out wearing her pack. ¡°You and your feelings,¡± she said, sighing.

    Ignasi unstoppered the wine, took a quick swig, stoppered it again, and shoved it in his pack. ¡°H¨¨ctor is, after all, a man known for his many feelings,¡± he sighed. ¡°Just look at him. An emotional, feelings-driven man, our H¨¨ctor.¡±

    ¡°Stay here, then,¡± muttered H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°See? That is annoyance, which is a feeling,¡± said Ignasi. He tossed his pack on his back and adjusted the shoulder straps. Then he took out a small comb and began straightening his hair and beard. When H¨¨ctor shot him a look, he said, ¡°What? I¡¯m ready to go. Why are you dawdling?¡±

    The others were right behind, though. Marina was ready, and as soon as H¨¨ctor got his pack straightened away, he was ready as well. Dirt used a little mana to jump up onto Socks¡¯ back before the pup could pick him up and asked with his mind, ¡°Are you going to carry them, too?¡±

    -No. I am not a pack animal. And they don¡¯t want me to, anyway. All three of them are thinking about it and hoping I don¡¯t.-

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    Leaving town was a strange experience. Dirt had started getting used to having buildings everywhere he looked, even though at first they¡¯d been novel and unfamiliar. Perhaps he was merely adopting the atmosphere of it, but it was a human place and it made him feel more human. But now, the path before them held nothing but the wilds. Two rows of steadily shrinking mountains and empty plains beyond that. It felt meaningful to return to the wilderness somehow, like he was a different person out here. Maybe civilization was like the pants he had on¡ªsomething he wore, but not really part of himself. He suddenly felt like taking them off, but the presence of the other humans kept them on.

    No, he realized, the civilized person had been Avitus, when he¡¯d lived in the Sunset Empire and been an old man. Dirt was the wild boy. The Sunset Empire was gone and so was Avitus. Maybe Dirt would stay Dirt forever and Avitus would never crawl out of the ruins he¡¯d collapsed under.

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    Socks struggled the whole way. The terrain was flat and dry and would be until the rain came, but the pup strained to keep from going faster. The poor pup¡¯s hackles wanted to rise and no amount of soothing from Dirt did any good.

    The three humans kept up only with significant difficulty. H¨¨ctor was the only of the three with the energy to keep looking back to see if his ominous feelings had presented a source yet, but all three of them panted and strained to walk at the quick speed Socks set. Just under the speed where they¡¯d have to start jogging, since that would tire them out even faster. Frankly, Dirt was glad he wasn¡¯t down there because walking that fast for so long had to be hard. The wind kept changing direction, too, and when it blew against them, they all slowed down.

    After a hard-fought morning that left the poor humans enervated and hungry, and left Socks increasingly nervous and skittish, the clouds burst open and the rain hit them like a crashing wave. Gusts of wind blew so hard the rain almost fell sideways, freezing cold and sharp, and it only took Dirt until about the count of ten to decide he hated it. He¡¯d been wondering what rain was like ever since Socks told him about it, but now that he saw it for himself, rain was no fun.

    The ground turned muddy and it got much harder to walk. Marina was the first to give up¡ªafter falling for the second time, she slid out of the shoulder straps of her backpack and rolled onto her back, where she lay panting in a puddle.

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°We have to stop, Socks. Give us a few minutes.¡± He was careful to drop his pack on the grass instead of the mud, but after that he sat so hard it looked like falling.

    -A few minutes,- said Socks, recognizing the impossibility of going any farther.

    Even Ignasi was too winded to make any jokes, which showed it was serious. His face looked haggard and red, and the rainwater dripping out of his beard made him look colder than the others.

    Dirt hopped down, landing with a splash in the mud, and was immediately annoyed at how the wet cloth stuck to his legs and restricted his movement. He looked at his pants in frustration, wondering if he really should just take them off. They wouldn¡¯t just slide down, though¡ªhe¡¯d have to peel them. And now that he thought about it, would that make him warmer, or colder? Either way, he was feeling somewhat miserable.

    When he felt resentment start to build, however, he pushed it away. Socks wasn¡¯t in a pleasant frame of mind either, and if both of them were in a bad mood at the same time, it might lead to conflict. That was unimaginable.

    ¡°Oh, Socks, can you try something?¡± Dirt said aloud, for everyone to hear. ¡°Can you make a wall with your mind to keep the rain off while we rest? And maybe block the wind? I know you¡¯re fine, but us humans don¡¯t have any fur to keep the rain off.¡±

    Socks was not, in fact, fine. He was as soaked as everyone else and being cold wasn¡¯t helping his mood. His thoughts kept returning to his nice warm den, which was always dry, and had other pups to play with in it, and Mother and Father to feed him.

    Dirt snapped his fingers and summoned his little ball of light, then another and another, until he had three like the other night. He inhaled more mana to feed them, making them grow bright, and smooshed them into each other to make one big one.

    Then he closed his eyes and tried something new. He felt how the mana cycled inside him, always on the edges of his perception but no less real. Making the light had been instinctual for him, something so practiced for Avitus that Dirt could do it without knowing how. And now that he tried, the understanding didn¡¯t come easily. There were no mental words like with wood shaping, no speaking to tell something to change. Just power, manifesting itself in an almost pure form.

    Well, what he needed right now was heat, not light. If the lights got bright enough, they also got warm¡ªhe¡¯d discovered that with the ghosts. He kept his eyes closed and pictured the magical blaze above him growing dim, like the soft red embers of yesterday¡¯s fire. In a normal fire, flames were bright and yellow, but the dull, quiet red embers were much hotter.

    He felt the heat on his skin, subtle as it was, and let that perception shape the magic instead of his eyesight. Dirt didn¡¯t need eyes to use magic, since the trees didn¡¯t either. He tried adding mana, and that made it a bit warmer, but so bright he could see it through his eyelids. So then he withdrew mana instead, imagining only the brightness losing its power, while the heat kept going.

    That seemed to work. The mana slowed to a trickle, but the faint heat remained. Dirt placed his mind into his mana body as far as it would go, straining to sense the world the trees understood effortlessly, and drew more mana from it. It took a shocking amount of concentration to try and separate the magical perceptions of heat and light, but they were indeed different. They had different characteristics, different colors, which wanted to blend together and become one unless he forced them apart.

    He carefully fed a trickle of mana into his work, filtering out everything except heat. Pure mana was uncountable things all at once, all of creation melded into pure white, but Dirt filtered it by concentrating with every inch of his body. The trickle of mana accumulated and gathered and Dirt felt heat growing on his skin, radiating at him like the sun on a warm day. He made it a little hotter, then a little hotter than that, until if he wasn¡¯t soaking wet he¡¯d be sweating.

    Then, with a tired sigh, he stretched out his arms and stood with his legs apart and let himself start drying out. Only then did he open his eyes. A red ember, dim and hot, floated nearby, radiating all the heat he could want. It rained all around, but not on them; an arc-shaped soft wall of force stopped most of the wind and rain, which gathered in small pools and dripped off to the sides. Dirt had imagined Socks¡¯ mental walls to be perfectly smooth, but apparently they weren¡¯t.

    Ignasi seemed relaxed and relieved, but H¨¨ctor and Marina stared appreciatively, both at the shield above them and the hot little ember over Dirt¡¯s head that was quickly warming up the area. Dirt summoned another one, almost losing his concentration in the process, and sent it hovering close to Socks. The look of relief on the pups¡¯ face was all the thanks Dirt was offered, and it was all he needed.

    Marina said, ¡°One of the first things Home told me, I think you¡¯ll find this funny. She said that Dirt was a human. She looked me right in the eyes, got all serious, and said, ¡®Dirt is a human child, and not anything else. Do you understand?¡¯ I guess she was watching through the staff the whole time, and it upset her that we weren¡¯t sure.¡±

    Dirt grinned slyly and said, ¡°I am just a human¡­ like Home is just a tree.¡±

    Marina snorted in amusement and said, ¡°You¡¯re kinda short to make that comparison.¡±

    ¡°But he does produce sap, so that¡¯s one similarity. Speaking of which, dear Dirt, do you mind? I am terrified to see the state of our travel rations right now,¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°Oh. Yeah. I guess I¡¯m hungry too. Home, would you mind making some sap for everyone?¡± said Dirt. He held the staff up. But instead of sap leaking out of the bark, a twig grew off the side, sprouting a couple small leaves and then the buds of small flowers. The buds grew into fist-sized globes of green and dropped their petals, then darkened to red and then to purplish black.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± he asked the staff, but home couldn¡¯t reply.

    ¡°Berries,¡± said Marina. ¡°The dryads asked me a lot about what humans ate.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯ve seen these but I didn¡¯t know you could eat them,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°And to think, you had almost convinced us you were human,¡± said Ignasi. He plucked a fist-sized berry from the twig and took a shallow bite. ¡°Am I still human? Or did I turn into a cat? Or turn purple like the berry?¡±

    Dirt tossed one to H¨¨ctor, who hadn¡¯t moved, and Marina, then plucked one and almost took a bite. Instead, he turned and threw it to Socks, who snapped it out of the air and stood up, wagging his tail.

    -I want some more. I want enough to taste them,- he said, sniffing eagerly.

    ¡°Sure. Home, can you make a bunch for Socks?¡± asked Dirt. The tree obliged and produced about thirty, in groups of eight or ten. Dirt threw them all in at once, and that was enough for Socks to mash them with his tongue and chew them and get a good taste. He could tell the pup liked it from how some of the tension in his muscles faded. Dirt reached up and patted his friends snout, right above the nose, and gave it a good scratch.

    When it was Dirt¡¯s turn to finally eat one, he found that a single berry filled him up and reenergized him in a way he hadn¡¯t expected. He felt it from his wet, chilly toes to his slowly-drying hair. ¡°Oh. Oh! She put mana in them! Home, next time I visit, you have to teach me how to make these.¡±

    Marina held up her hands, which were red from the cold rain, and flexed her fingers. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it,¡± she said.

    H¨¨ctor stood and said, ¡°Let¡¯s go. I still feel it.¡±

    A flash of light blinded them for an instant, followed in the same breath by an ear-splitting crack that hit them like a slap. Dirt screamed and ducked down, too shocked to react any other way. Socks and the humans jumped in startlement, but he quickly recognized they weren¡¯t as scared as he was. He stood back up and shouted, ¡°What was that?¡±

    H¨¨ctor started answering, but was interrupted by another flash of light, farther away, and another loud crack that was more of a rumble. ¡°Just lightning.¡±

    ¡°Lightning?¡±

    ¡°Just lightning, boy. Haven¡¯t you seen lightning before?¡± said H¨¨ctor, trying not to act too impatient.

    ¡°No, never. Or rain. This is my first time,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Is it dangerous?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Don¡¯t go under any trees. It¡¯ll kill you if it hits you.¡±

    Dirt sighed, trying to calm his racing heart. Another flash, followed by another peal of thunder, kept that from working.

    ¡°We really need to get moving,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°Right now.¡±

    -Yes. It is him. He has found me. He is trying to slow me down while he comes.-

 The Druid - Chapter 17

    ¡°What do we do?¡± asked Dirt in a panic.

    -We run. The closer he gets, the more accurately he can detect us. We might still get away.-

    ¡°Who is ¡®he?¡¯ What¡¯s coming?¡± asked Marina.

    Dirt said, ¡°It¡¯s complicated. But it¡¯s something that scares Socks. Come on!¡±

    ¡°Do you two need to leave us?¡± asked Ignasi, his face calmly serious.

    -Not yet, but we will if we have to.-

    Ignasi dropped his pack, letting it fall gracelessly into the mud. He tugged off his long jacket and dumped it on the ground, then stretched in an exaggerated way, as if basking in warm sunlight instead of drenched in heavy rain. ¡°H¨¨ctor, Marina, you should start moving before I have time to strip completely.¡±

    H¨¨ctor nodded and dropped his pack as well, then with a wistful expression, his sword and jacket. Marina did the same and started running before the men did. Socks followed at a nervous trot, ushering the humans forward at what they probably thought was a fast jog.

    Dirt shifted his weight to slide off and run alongside them, but Socks caught hold and told him, --You stay on me in case we have to run fast.-

    ¡°Okay. If we leave the others behind, will the Devourer kill them, too?¡±

    -No. And probably not you, either. Just me. But I am not telling them that or they will not hurry as much.-

    Dirt grinned and lay down to hug the pup¡¯s fur more tightly. He discovered that if he really pressed down, Socks was warm enough to offset the cold from the rain. It failed to comfort his nervousness much, however. The wetness of Socks¡¯ fur brought out the faint, tangy scent of fear and anxiety, which Dirt only recognized after spending so much time sharing senses. In fact, he might be imagining it, just from knowing how Socks felt right now.

    The humans ran in the widest-open areas they could find, despite the wind and heavy rain, as lightning crashed all across the valley. Dirt only flinched some of the time, but after each booming wave of sound shook them, he patted Socks gently and sent him another useless puff of reassurance. It was all he could do.

    Dirt took a moment to watch the minds of the humans, just out of curiosity. They were not as used to this as he was, so what did they think? It turned out to be very different things. None of the three were particularly scared of the Devourer, although they all had a nervous tinge to their emotions. H¨¨ctor was pleased at how energized he felt after eating that berry and was enjoying the feeling of easy athletic motion. Marina¡¯s thoughts were largely concerned with fear for her unborn baby, yet to be conceived. She already had a little knot of eager love growing for it, even though it didn¡¯t exist yet. It seemed she¡¯d already ruled out H¨¨ctor and Ignasi as sires and was wondering how long it would take her to find a mate once they reached the city.

    Ignasi¡¯s thoughts were the most surprising, though, since they didn¡¯t seem to match his outward demeanor. He was frustrated and upset that nothing went how he pictured, and his dismay seemed to be symbolized in his mind by that nearly full bottle of wine in his abandoned pack. Dirt supposed that Ignasi being the most decisive didn¡¯t make him the happiest with the results.

    A deep rumble shook the earth and built into a roar¡ªsomething like thunder, but from underground. It was followed by a series of shuddering groans and cracks, each ear-splittingly loud despite sounding distant and muffled by the rain. Tremors passed like waves through the ground, and although Socks had no trouble with them, the jogging humans stumbled each time and struggled to regain their feet in the muddy ground.

    But those sounds faded, leaving no explanation for what they had been. Perhaps the very earth was being torn open to find them, but in all the wrong places. Dirt wasn¡¯t eager to find out.

    They ran on, long enough for the terror of the unseen sounds to fade, and to go back to being regular miserable in the cold rain. Surprisingly, the humans never slowed, which Dirt attributed to the berries and the small amount of mana they had provided. Dirt could still feel it working inside him, keeping him sated and energized. Indeed, Dirt began to wonder if they¡¯d escaped already.

    Until a wave of mana washed over them from behind. It contained a shocking amount of power, so much that it seemed the skin between worlds shuddered and threatened to tear. The mana contained a command, an unspeakable word of magic that Dirt nonetheless recognized, being very close to something the dryads had taught him: GROW.

    The ground rumbled in every direction, punctuated by cracks and creaks. Green sprouts popped from the ground and grew to become stunted, twisted trees; sickly and weak, but nonetheless solid. Their trunks refused to go straight up and down, each one bent at precarious angles to make as much of an obstacle as possible. From one moment to the next, the run was brought to a complete standstill.

    Dirt stepped up onto Socks¡¯ head, and the pup straightened to give him a slightly better view. It was hard to see very far through the rain, but it thinned in places if he watched carefully and revealed that this wet plain of grass had become a forested swamp in an instant. No paths cut through the knotted mess of trees and bushes and vines and everything was just tall enough that Socks couldn¡¯t step over it without jumping. There would be nowhere to land if he did.

    They weren¡¯t truly trapped, but they might as well be. Socks didn¡¯t have anything to say, nor was he even thinking in words. It was quickly sinking in that the situation had gone from serious to deadly and Socks was starting to panic. He whined as he stepped left and right in the tiny space that remained to him, mind spinning to find a way through.

    ¡°I got this,¡± said Dirt, sending the biggest mental puff of reassurance he could. He jumped all the way down, staff in hand.

    His mind-sight showed him countless new trees, young and excited. They slowly explored the world with their alien senses and discovered there were others, with whom they began to speak in their way. Their minds were nothing like his trees, nowhere near as grand and complicated, but they were every bit as alien and incomprehensible. The only thing he could make out was a concept that seemed related to air or wind. And their greetings, simple and affectionate¡ªthose he could recognize, if not quite understand.

    Dirt inhaled as much mana as he could, then let his staff wave loosely in an arc in front of him. It brushed against vines and spindly bushes and tapped a tree trunk, and all of them he commanded: Bend. Just as the dryads had taught him, he used their words and ideas to communicate his intent, and his own mana to actualize it. He stepped forward and raised his staff to brush the branches of the next tree, which were too short for Socks to pass under. Bend.

    Another, and another, and the path began to open. Where he found two trees talking to each other, he commanded them both at once. Where the bushes or ivy could be stepped through, he ignored it. The plants all wondered at him, unable to understand what was happening or where the magic was coming from, but only briefly before moving on. The world was all too new to dwell on one experience.

    Thank Grace, it got easier the farther they got. The trees began to establish their web of communication, allowing Dirt to direct increasing numbers of them out of the way at once. Even so, it took the utmost focus to discern that judging by this connection, that mind-light belonged to that particular tree, and so on. He had to bend them in the right direction to make a path, after all.

    Dirt never managed to do it fast enough for a jog, but they kept up a decent walk. At least it was fast enough to keep Socks from panicking and whimpering and trying to get away by jumping over the treetops, which Dirt was sure would result in getting his lanky wolf legs tangled up and possibly broken.

    Behind them, some of the trees bent back to their previous shape and others didn¡¯t. The magic faded, leaving them stuck however they¡¯d chosen to end up. It wouldn¡¯t matter much since they didn¡¯t know what a shape was, let alone that they had one, but it still made Dirt wonder why they did that.

    Dirt¡¯s anxiety faded completely before long, discarded beneath intense focus on his task and seeing so many happy new trees. Surprisingly, lack of anxiety made it easier, not harder, even though the task was urgent. He felt like a great master for a time, unstoppable and unshakable in his own right, and the faithful certainty that gave him empowered his magic.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Despite making good progress, the wind and rain got worse, whipping the green branches of the trees and even breaking some that caught a gust at the wrong angle. The lightning never quite found them, always at a distance as it struck random trees in every direction, but neither did they leave it behind.

    However, the farther they got, the more the trees spread out, and eventually Socks could pass through them unaided. Dirt finally relaxed his mind, which felt weary in a strange way that affected the rest of his body. When Socks picked him up and returned him to his usual perch, Dirt was flooded with so much relief that he almost fell asleep. If nothing else, laying down kept him out of the worst of the wind.

    Now Socks felt it was safe to run, and this time he had no patience for stubby little human legs. He picked up the three humans and held them in the air while he darted this way and that through the trees, anywhere he could find a path. The rain went from unpleasant to stinging as Socks went fast enough for the water droplets to become sling missiles. Dirt tried to lift his head to watch where they were going, but the rain blinded him.

    Which made him wonder how Socks was going so fast. Dirt looked at his mind and it turned out ghost sight had almost no perception of rain, and Socks was using that. The pup didn¡¯t even have his eyes open since the pelting rain stung too much. Despite the storm he saw the landscape in the same stark, colorless grays that he would at any other time, with only a faint wispiness to indicate the presence of the brutal storm. The clouds were visible here, but they were unusual, like a blur from seeing them all roll by at once. Lightning, interestingly, had the same bright flash there as it did here.

    Socks saw a landing spot in the distance and leaped, accelerating at even greater speed. Countless trees sped by underneath them while the three humans screamed for their lives, which Socks found mildly amusing. -Dirt laughed the first time I jumped while carrying him,-- he told them. It did little to comfort them. And to be fair, Dirt had also screamed. It had been a mixed experience.

    The pup ran and ran, and the three humans became increasingly miserable as time went on, while Socks and Dirt got happier, knowing they would escape. The poor humans weren¡¯t used to being carried, for one, and didn¡¯t enjoy it. It was cold up there, too, whipping through the wind and rain with no way to shield themselves. One by one, they curled into balls, which Socks facilitated.

    Socks didn¡¯t have it easy, though. The rain kept getting up his nostrils, where it burned and made him want to sneeze. The rain had soaked so far into his fur that his body heat was sapped away like everyone else¡¯s, exertion notwithstanding. And to make it worse, his paws were getting sore from running so fast with the added weight.

    The trees ended before the rain did. The farther they grew from the epicenter of the Devourer¡¯s spell, the sparser they became until finally there were no more. Nothing but storm-flattened grasses and streams of rainwater washing away the dirt to leave rocks and gravel behind.

    ¡°Socks, where do you think all the little animals go when it gets like this? Do a bunch of them just die, or do they have somewhere to hide?¡± Dirt asked Socks. ¡°The really little ones. Mice and snakes and stuff.¡±

    The pup slowed, suddenly curious. He sniffed around a bit as he trotted, but the rain was dampening even his superior senses too much to get a good answer. Dirt considered asking the humans, but they were fairly certain they were going to freeze to death and didn¡¯t seem in the mood.

    That little detour was just enough to lift Socks¡¯ spirits enough to press on with a bit more energy, but fortunately the hard part was over. The storm finally broke. Dirt had expected it to fade out slowly, with the rain slacking into mist and the low and gloomy clouds rolling away over time, but that wasn¡¯t what happened at all. The whole storm just fell apart in an instant, with the rain stopping suddenly and the clouds quickly breaking up. That was a relief. Dirt hadn¡¯t been looking forward to having it linger.

    The sun was high in the sky, bright and hot. Despite feeling like they¡¯d just been chased from one end of the world to the other, the day was only half over. Socks slowed and stopped, then gently set the freezing, bewildered humans on a grassy spot of ground. Dirt slid off Socks¡¯ back to stretch and get some life back in his limbs, and Socks found a good spot to lay down and rest.

    Dirt dropped his dripping-wet backpack and lay down near Socks¡¯ head, close enough to pat his muzzle, which he did. He only had to lay there for a count of five before discovering that his top half was warming up while his bottom half stayed cold and decide he¡¯d had enough. He peeled his wet pants off and set them aside, then lay back down with a contented grin as the hot sun enveloped him. He idly scratched the fur above Sock¡¯s nose and let all the stresses of the morning melt away.

    ¡°Are you drying those out?¡± asked Marina, face pale, wet hair dripping everywhere. She stood a few steps away, shivering.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Dirt, even though it hadn¡¯t been true until she asked. Now he was, though. Now he was drying out his pants, and that was what he was doing.

    Socks huffed his amusement and the pup¡¯s hot breath stirred the grass all around him. Dirt grinned.

    ¡°I take it we¡¯re stopping for a rest?¡± asked H¨¨ctor, sounding harried.

    -Yes. We are far enough away he will not find me again soon. He wasn¡¯t that close yet anyway. It is worse when he is.-

    Ignasi said, ¡°Strangely, noble wolf, I don¡¯t find that very reassuring. But no matter. If we¡¯re resting, then I¡¯m copying the boy.¡± He started tugging his wet shirt, which only came off with difficulty. His hairy chest bare, he wrung out his shirt and squeezed an alarming amount of water out of it.

    H¨¨ctor considered doing the same, but after glancing up at the hot sun, decided he¡¯d be fine. He said, ¡°So what was that?¡±

    When Socks didn¡¯t immediately reply, Dirt said, ¡°There¡¯s a thing called the Devourer that hunts wolf pups. We¡¯re trying to stay away from it until Socks is big enough that it¡¯s not a threat anymore.¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°Fine, but what is it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, and I¡¯m not allowed to find out. You shouldn¡¯t try either.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re not allowed?¡±

    ¡°I mean that Mother, Socks¡¯ Mother, said if I ever find out she¡¯ll kill me. She could probably do it from here,¡± said Dirt.

    I COULD.

    The humans all startled and ducked down, peering around wide-eyed for the new threat. Dirt giggled and from the thumping sound it made on the ground, Socks started wagging his tail.

    H¨¨ctor pieced it together quickly and asked, ¡°Where¡­ is she?¡±

    -Far away,- said Socks. -Too far to come quickly.-

    Dirt said, ¡°She doesn¡¯t have to be close by to speak to us. If you saw her, you¡¯d understand. But don¡¯t worry about it, since you probably never will. And you wouldn¡¯t want to. But still, I¡¯m glad she¡¯s watching us.¡±

    Ignasi must¡¯ve only meant stripping off his shirt, since he kept his pants on. Or maybe he¡¯d changed his mind after H¨¨ctor and Marina didn¡¯t. He said, ¡°I also find it reassuring to know an even bigger wolf is watching us at all times.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything we need to know?¡± asked H¨¨ctor.

    -No, except that Dirt and I will keep moving until I grow up. We can¡¯t stay in one place for long or he will find me again.-

    ¡°Should we get going now, then? Is it safe here?¡±

    -My paws hurt. I carried a bull yesterday and you today. I want to rest, at least until I start drying out.-

    Dirt sat up and asked, ¡°Is anyone hungry?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Marina. The men shook their heads.

    ¡°Me neither,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Socks, do you want some sap?¡± He patted the pup above the nose again and scratched the fur a little.

    -In a little bit.-

    They relaxed for a while, the humans milling around or sitting restlessly since they weren¡¯t tired. Dirt stayed right near Socks¡¯ nose, keeping him company. He wished he could do more for the pup. Socks needed other pups to wrestle with, for one. No matter how much Socks loved him, Dirt wasn¡¯t a giant wolf who could play fight and communicate by scent. Dirt almost regretted running into humans so soon, since it made him feel lonely on Socks¡¯ behalf.

    At least it wouldn¡¯t be long until it was time to go back. Socks was supposed to come back once each season, and while Dirt wasn¡¯t sure how long a season was, it couldn¡¯t be that much longer until this one was over. Then came autumn, and winter, and spring.

    Socks eventually decided he was hungry after all, so Dirt had Home make a bunch of sap for him, tossing in clump after clump until the pup had his fill.

    After that, Socks gingerly rose to his feet and gently stepped around a bit. He decided his paws were not that sore anymore and asked, -Marina, do you still know where we¡¯re going?-

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯re getting close. We should start seeing farmland pretty soon, here,¡± she said. She seemed eager to get moving, full of restless energy. Her hair had mostly dried, and her clothing had gone from soaking to mildly damp. No doubt they¡¯d all be sweating before long, and Ignasi would regret drying out his shirt.

    ¡°Well, let me know if anyone gets hungry,¡± said Dirt, rising to his feet. He picked up his backpack and pants, and nonchalantly didn¡¯t put them back on, hoping no one would notice. ¡°Let¡¯s go. Socks, do you want me to walk or ride?¡±

    -I don¡¯t care. Walk for now, and ride later.-

    Dirt nodded and put his backpack on, then slung his pants over one shoulder.

    ¡°Are you going to put those back on, Dirt?¡± asked Marina.

    ¡°Oh, I guess, if they¡¯re dry,¡± he said, feigning ignorance. They were, and he grudgingly pulled them back on and tied the drawstring.

    Ignasi grinned and said, ¡°I think he just doesn¡¯t want to wear them, Marina.¡±

    ¡°Well, he has to learn if he wants to be let into the city,¡± she replied sternly.

    ¡°Even in summer, the kids run around clothed all the time?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s beside the point. That¡¯s their kids. Dirt¡¯s a stranger and he needs to look civilized,¡± said Marina. Dirt suspected that was an excuse and she simply didn¡¯t like having him naked for some reason, but he didn¡¯t peek at her mind to find out.

    H¨¨ctor smirked and said, ¡°I think the wolf will be a bigger problem than the pants.¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know. I think if we comb his fur, Socks could look like a civilized wolf. I mean that in a dignified sense, of course, not a tamed one.¡±

    ¡°Dignified enough to keep them from filling us with arrows?¡±

    -If they try to hurt me or Dirt they will regret it.-

    H¨¨ctor sighed. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m worried about.¡± He started walking.

 The Druid - Chapter 18

    Socks walked in front for the rest of the day and kept a pace quick enough that the humans had to press to keep up. Not so fast it wore them out, but fast enough they didn¡¯t feel like talking much, which was fine with him. Dirt and Socks spent the day filling their minds with pure and childish imagination, which they hadn¡¯t been able to do much lately.

    They played the game where Dirt would imagine something like a boring rock, and then Socks would change it somehow, like putting a bug on it, or making it green, and then Dirt had to do something to it, and back and forth until it got too silly. This resulted in lot of laughter from Dirt, which the other humans thought was coming out of nowhere, making it even funnier.

    When they got tired of that, they played the game where one of them would try to imagine a monster, and the other one had to figure out how to kill it. It had to be a fun way, though. Not a single stab or just twisting its head off. Nothing like that. The first one that Socks came up with was a big toothy lizard that had wheels instead of feet and rolled everywhere with shocking speed. Dirt killed it by sharpening a straight log into a spear shape, and then lifting it at the last second to skewer it when it tried to run him down.

    The first monster Dirt came up with was a beast like those diggers, except that instead of claws, it had big grabby fingers. Socks killed it by handing it something to hold and then tossing it in the water to drown.

    If they had a disagreement about how the fight would turn out, then they had to imagine their interpretation for the other person to watch, and then the other person had to redo it differently. Socks had a hundred natural advantages¡ªspeed, size, strength, magic, senses¡ªbut imagination was one arena where Dirt was his equal in every way, and that kept the game interesting long into the evening.

    The effect of the berries Home had given them that morning wore off at nearly the same time for everyone. First Ignasi stumbled and gasped as the strength left his limbs, and before H¨¨ctor and Marina could figure out what was wrong with him, it hit them too. Dirt didn¡¯t get it quite so bad, but he still felt a wave of weariness that a trickle of mana couldn¡¯t quite wash away. That was it, and from one instant to the next, the day¡¯s travels were at an end.

    The place they¡¯d stopped was exactly like everywhere else in the grassy plain¡ªflat and boring. It was strange, looking in any direction and seeing nothing at all, except the mountains retreating behind them.

    ¡°Is anyone ready for some water?¡± said Dirt, plopping down on the ground to relax, as if he hadn¡¯t been laying on Socks¡¯ back half the day.

    ¡°No waterskins to fill,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°Make a cup with your hands, silly,¡± said Dirt.

    The beardless man scowled but didn¡¯t hesitate to hold his hands out. Dirt raised the staff and said, ¡°Home, would you mind?¡±

    Water poured gently from the end of the staff. H¨¨ctor slurped it down the instant his hands were full, then held them out for more. Marina was right there when he was done, only because she outmaneuvered Ignasi. Once everyone had gotten their fill of water, Home gave them a bit of sap, which Dirt and the other humans weren¡¯t hungry enough to swallow more than a couple bites of.

    Ignasi was the first to fall asleep, simply shimmying into a comfortable spot in the grass and nodding off before the stars even came out.

    Despite clearly being exhausted, H¨¨ctor was too restless to do the same and Dirt got the sense that the man really missed his pack. He fussed around helplessly for a while, then got up and poked around looking for firewood. Unfortunately, he found nothing, not even a bush with thick enough branches to burn, and finally gave up. He didn¡¯t say a word as he lay down near Ignasi and closed his eyes.

    While H¨¨ctor was doing all that, Marina stayed up to brush her hair with a comb she had in a pocket, humming a song Dirt didn¡¯t recognize. She hummed a little louder when she noticed he was listening, and he sat quietly and tried to memorize it. When she was done combing her own hair, she quietly said, ¡°Come on over here, Dirt. I bet your hair¡¯s never been combed, has it?¡±

    He scooted over and sat with his back toward her. She got up on her knees and gently started combing, resting one hand on his shoulder. It was a strange feeling, having human hands on him. It wasn¡¯t like the dryads at all. Marina¡¯s hands were warmer, for one. The dryads were always the cool ambient temperature of the forest.

    She kept humming, which he found pleasant, and combed his hair for longer than he felt was necessary. When she was done, she said, ¡°All right, turn around and let me get a good look at you.¡±

    He spun around, staying seated, and faced her. She pinched his chin to turn his head for an examination under her critical eye, then combed the front again a couple times. She used her sleeve to rub off a bit of grime near his eyebrow and another under at the edge of his mouth. She nodded and quietly said, ¡°Much better. Very handsome.¡±

    Socks got up and leaned in, head tilted slightly sideways to get a better look. He huffed and pulled away, unimpressed. -Why bother?- he asked.

    Marina said, ¡°There¡¯s no harm in looking neat and tidy. When we get to town, maybe we¡¯ll grab a few rakes and comb your fur. I bet you¡¯ll like it.¡±

    -I am neat and tidy enough already.-

    ¡°You¡¯ll enjoy it. You¡¯ll see. Dirt, you have a shirt in that little pack of yours, don¡¯t you? Can we get it out?¡±

    Dirt obliged, grabbing the pack from where he¡¯d dropped it and handing it to her. She pulled everything out¡ªthe tunic, the shirt, the shoes and socks. And underneath, the blanket. ¡°Oh, I forgot that was in there. If someone gets cold, they can use it. Let¡¯s leave it out,¡± he said.

    Marina spread out Dirt¡¯s new clothing, biting a frown at the corners of her mouth. He saw why, and said, ¡°They¡¯re still wet from the rain, huh? Let¡¯s spread them out and maybe they¡¯ll be dry in the morning.¡±

    ¡°I was hoping to see you try them on,¡± she said.

    ¡°Yeah, but they¡¯re wet. And I¡¯m fine right now. I¡¯ll even keep my pants on when I go to sleep,¡± he replied. Something about her wanting to get him all dressed up made him not want to, even though he¡¯d been planning on it when they got to the city, just to see how it went.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s fine. Whenever. I just wanna see you with them on. I bet you¡¯ll be charming,¡± she said, trying and failing to act nonchalant. Her eyes glanced at the Home-staff, and Dirt wondered if the dryads were conspiring with her. He almost peeked at her mind to find out, then decided it would be more fun to try and figure it out like a normal human by watching for clues.

    ¡°Yeah. Maybe. I should probably find another river to wash off in first, though. Don¡¯t you think so? Wouldn¡¯t I just get them all dirty on the inside?¡± he asked, testing.

    ¡°You¡¯re not that dirty right now. Not like when we first met,¡± she replied.

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s true,¡± said Dirt. He realized that for him to keep up the charade and act like an innocent child to get more information out of her, he needed to know how an innocent child actually acted, and he had no idea. So that wouldn¡¯t work. He¡¯d have to think of something else.

    There was a lull in the conversation in which Dirt couldn¡¯t think of what to say. Marina was the one who broke it, asking, ¡°There¡¯s one thing I¡¯m not clear on. The dryads told me you woke them up, but you said they raised you, right? So you learned to speak from them?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, I knew before. I just woke up one day in the forest, and I don¡¯t remember anything before that. But they noticed me and then figured out how to make dryads,¡± said Dirt, leaving out some important steps.

    ¡°So who taught you how to speak? Who fed you when you were a babe?¡± Marina asked. ¡°You have to have a mother somewhere, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m sure I had one, but I don¡¯t remember anything about her. I didn¡¯t just appear in the dirt in a pile of goo,¡± said Dirt. He shifted uncomfortably, realizing that he was telling the truth and lying at the same time. He¡¯d have to be careful if he wanted to stay honest. ¡°At least not at first. I had to have been born at some point. But I¡¯m sure she¡¯s gone, because that was a long time ago.¡±

    ¡°What happened to you? How did you get there?¡±

    Dirt knew how he¡¯d gotten there, roughly, but explaining would give away a lot of things he didn¡¯t want her to know. Maybe someday he¡¯d explain that he was from the ancient past and that he¡¯d broken the world, but not now.

    ¡°One day I just woke up there, laying on the ground. I really don¡¯t have a single memory of my own from before that.¡± He hoped she didn¡¯t catch the ¡®of my own.¡¯

    Marina plucked the teeth of her comb with her thumbnail, wondering. It made musical little plinking sounds, and Dirt almost reached for it to try himself. She asked, ¡°So the trees noticed you, made dryads, and then you taught them how to speak?¡±

    Dirt thought about that. Had he? ¡°No, actually, I don¡¯t think I think I did. I wonder where they learned my language. And yours. From what you said, I don¡¯t think they would have heard enough words to figure it out themselves.¡±

    She frowned, fretting over something he was sorely tempted to peek at her mind and learn. He didn¡¯t, though. Finally she said, ¡°Seems kind of sad to me, Dirt. No parents, no friends. Just you and the wilds. Every child deserves better than that.¡±

    ¡°Socks is a better friend than you can imagine,¡± said Dirt, anger creeping into his voice. ¡°I love him, and I love the dryads. They¡¯re incredible.¡±

    ¡°I meant human friends. You need someone to talk to¡ª¡±

    ¡°We talk all day! In our minds!¡±

    ¡°Dirt, listen. You¡¯re a charming little man, sweet as you please and clever. You can do some terrifying things. But if you can¡¯t learn to be a little less wild, you¡¯ll never fit in anywhere. That¡¯s all. I don¡¯t want to take anything away from you. I just want you to have a little more, so you have options when you¡¯re old enough to decide what you want.¡±

    Dirt started angrily at that, but calmed the more he thought about it. She hadn¡¯t really meant to insult Socks; she just didn¡¯t understand. She couldn¡¯t know. But she was probably right about learning to be less wild. Nothing in Prisca¡¯s memories accounted for how Dirt was living his life.

    He wasn¡¯t about to make any major changes; there¡¯d be time for that someday, and he couldn¡¯t be happier than he was now. But would it really hurt to let her tame him a little, just to learn? Dirt pondered that and let the moment stretch into an uncomfortable silence, and soon it was clear neither of them had anything else to add. Dirt finally just said, ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll think about that.¡±

    ¡°Good. Good night, little Dirt,¡± said Marina. She ruffled his hair, ruining her efforts to comb it. She grinned, and he smiled back at her to share the joke. He could still sense her frustration, mild though it was. After that, she curled up in the grass to sleep.

    Dirt crawled over to snuggle in with Socks. He shared his sight with the pup and watched the sky as the stars came out, since Socks couldn¡¯t see them very well.

    -She is right and wrong at the same time,- said the pup.

    ¡°I know. I guess if I want to be the best human, I¡¯ll have to learn a lot more things,¡± he thought. Socks sent him a puff of affection, which he returned. That was all the discussing they needed for the ¡®not friends¡¯ aspect of the conversation.

    ¡°We¡¯re not staying up, are we?¡± he thought.

    -No,- replied Socks, just to him. --The Devourer is too near to be out after dark. I should not have stayed up so late the last few nights.-

    As usual, all the questions Dirt couldn¡¯t ask came to the fore and Socks had to wall off part of his mind where Dirt couldn¡¯t see it. Questions like, how come only pups were in danger? And if only pups were in danger, how come Mother and Father couldn¡¯t kill the Devourer? And more than anything else, what was he? If only Dirt knew more, perhaps he could find a solution or help in some way, and Socks wouldn¡¯t have to spend his puppy years in constant danger.

    He reached up and patted Socks on the side of the snout, fully aware how tiny his human hand was and how little good it did. Socks deserved another big puppy to play with, and it pained Dirt he didn¡¯t have one. But the mental affection they sent back and forth was sincere, and knowing Dirt would drown in pity kept Socks from feeling too sorry for himself or spending too much time being afraid. Together they watched the stars come out, and then the moon rise, and then they went to sleep.

    The next morning Dirt awoke with a huge sneeze, then another. Something tickled his nose, and he sneezed a third time before he even opened his eyes. When he did, he found Ignasi standing over him with a long piece of grass, tickling his face with the fluffy tuft on the end. ¡°Hey!¡± he shouted, trying to decide if he was mad.

    The men laughed and Socks leaned down to give him a little lick. -I have learned a new trick,- he said with a mischievous air.

    ¡°You have a nose, too!¡± said Dirt.

    -You can¡¯t reach it,- said Socks. He picked up a stalk of grass with his mind and waved it in Dirt¡¯s direction, snout raised high.

    Dirt giggled and rolled to his feet, then snatched a stalk of grass of his own and used mana to leap all the way up. Socks dodged, of course, but the game was on. The two of them rolled and ducked and jumped to get away from the other, and in a small play area, Dirt had the advantage of speed. His body was simply more flexible and he could change direction faster. No matter how Socks tried to escape, unless he decided to really run, the pup couldn¡¯t get away from him.

    Socks, however, had the advantage of being able to hold ten stalks of grass at once and attack from different angles, which he used to great effect. Dirt could only look in one direction at a time. Neither of them managed to make the other sneeze, but each scored plenty of hits on the other¡¯s nose.

    Dirt was losing until Socks leaped sideways, nose forward, in that way he did when he found something fun enough to leap in excitement about but wanted to keep his eyes on. Dirt anticipated where he¡¯d land and got there in only a few lightning-quick steps.

    Too late, the pup realized his mistake and tried to twist in the air. It wasn¡¯t going to work, so he tried something Dirt wasn¡¯t expecting. He made a shield of force with his mind and hit that instead, just before he landed where Dirt was waiting.

    They were both so startled it worked that they stopped dead and stared at each other. They had the same thought and without Dirt sending a single word, Socks made a flat shield parallel to the ground and lightly stepped onto it. He stood a full human pace in the air as if hovering there, wagging his tail.

    The pup¡¯s weight quickly multiplied, though, doubling and doubling again until the shield collapsed. He dropped into the dirt and landed heavier than he should have. His legs crumbled and his torso hit the ground hard enough to knock the air out of him.

    Dirt ran forward and stopped short of hugging Socks, in case he was actually hurt. ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked aloud.

    -I¡¯ll be fine.- The pup rose gingerly to his feet and held his head down for Dirt to hug. Dirt squeezed him and scratched between his ears.

    The humans stood at a distance where they¡¯d retreated for their safety. Seeing the game was over, they came back over. Ignasi sighed and said, ¡°It¡¯s all fun and games until someone gets hurt,¡± but he sounded more amused than upset.

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°Someone getting hurt is how you know it was fun and games.¡± The man had a twinkle in his eye and cracked a rare grin.

    -Yes,-- said Socks. -Usually it¡¯s Dirt, though. That is a good trick but the weight has nowhere to go, so I¡¯ll have to be careful.-

    ¡°Yeah, if Socks gets hurt, I can¡¯t carry him the rest of the day,¡± said Dirt. He made room for the others to come scratch poor Socks around the ears, and it wasn¡¯t long until the pup was feeling better.

    Home provided everyone a nice breakfast of sap, which Marina asked for in place of the all-day berries without explanation. After that, since no one had a pack except Dirt and his had nothing but clothes in it, there was nothing else to do. No camp to pack up, no fire to put out. They were on their way quickly, and since there was no trail to follow, they ended up walking side by side.

    Dirt walked this time, and for the first time, he found himself appreciating wearing pants. Although most of the grasses were shorter than his waist, a lot of them were scratchy and would have scraped up his legs. Since he didn¡¯t have fur, he supposed this was the next best thing.

    Once, later in the morning, Socks caught a scent on the wind and raced away without explanation. H¨¨ctor asked, ¡°Should we be worried?¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°No, if the thing we should be worried about was here, he¡¯d be here. But I bet he comes back with his face all bloody. Probably a deer or something.¡±

    Marina asked, ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you go with him?¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°No, I can¡¯t smell well enough to help him circle the prey. Sometimes we go together, and sometimes he likes to go by himself. He¡¯ll be back soon.¡±

    Sure enough, Socks came padding back a short time later, muzzle and front paws bloody. He kept his nose low to sniff the ground as he walked, wagging his tail in a self-satisfied manner. A mysterious bundle the size of Dirt¡¯s leg hung from a strap Socks held with a front tooth.

    First thing he did was lick Dirt¡¯s face to tease him, leaving a scent of blood behind that even Dirt could smell. Marina looked sick, which amused Socks so much that Dirt suspected that¡¯s why he¡¯d done it.

    Socks licked him again and Dirt giggled and said, ¡°Stop that! Okay, so what did you find?¡±

    -Goblins. And look what they had.- The pup dropped the bundle and it fell open to reveal three swords resting on a filthy cloth. H¨¨ctor got there first and hastily picked one up, then unsheathed it and examined the blade. It was rusty from hilt to point, but still straight and sharp.

    He looked up, disturbed, and said, ¡°Goblins don¡¯t make swords. They don¡¯t make anything at all. Where¡¯d they get these?¡±

    --How should I know? From whatever makes them. Are those from humans?-

    ¡°Yes, humans made these. What I meant was, why do goblins have them?¡± asked H¨¨ctor. He checked the blades of the other two and they were rusted as well. Tossing one to Ignasi and Marina, he wiped the blood off the sheath of the third on the grass, then looped it over his own shoulder. Then he added, ¡°I hope your city¡¯s still there.¡±

    ¡°With all the people in it, unlike the last one,¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°It had walls. No goblins are getting through that,¡± said Marina, but there was a note of uncertainty in her voice that everyone else picked up on. ¡°We¡¯ll find out soon enough, though. Today, even, maybe. We should be close.¡±

    Socks sniffed the air again and they resumed their walk.

 The Druid - Chapter 19

    -I see a fence,- said Socks, well into the heat of the afternoon. Since he was the tallest, everyone else had to keep walking to see it, but sure enough, there it was. All wood, with thin posts and smaller branches woven between them to make a mat. It looked weather-worn and forlorn, with no difference in the scenery on one side or the other.

    ¡°Where¡¯d they get the wood?¡± Dirt asked, since he hadn¡¯t seen a tree all day.

    Marina said, ¡°Trees don¡¯t grow well here. The soil is loose and strong winds tend to push them over, if they grow much at all. The city keeps a bunch of groves, though. You¡¯ll see them when we get closer. Back in the One Kingdom days, wood and charcoal were brought from elsewhere and traded for grain, but that¡¯s been a long time now. Lots of cold people in the winter.¡±

    ¡°Have you seen winter?¡± Dirt asked.

    ¡°Of course,¡± said Marina. ¡°Happens every year.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, how cold is it? Is it as cold as water, or colder than that?¡±

    ¡°As cold as which water?¡± asked Ignasi, cracking a smile.

    ¡°You know, like when you jump in, and it¡¯s cold,¡± said Dirt. ¡°And it takes you a moment to get used to it. Like that.¡±

    -The water in the pond wasn¡¯t very cold,- said Socks.

    ¡°Oh. Yeah. I guess you¡¯re right. I was thinking of that basin.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably colder than that,¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°Is there anywhere you can go that it isn¡¯t winter?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Yes. You can go inside. Marina, shouldn¡¯t there be a road somewhere by now?¡±

    She walked the rest of the way to the fence and pulled away one of the branches, which crumbled in her hand. ¡°This fence is about to collapse. We¡¯re still too far from town. Whoever¡¯s field this was isn¡¯t tending it anymore. Socks, do you smell any sheep or goats? Any cattle?¡±

    -No. Should I?- he replied. Curious, he raised his nose high to sniff the wind. -No animals.-

    ¡°Yeah, this one¡¯s abandoned. So we¡¯re probably on the far end of the field, and it¡¯s a field no one owns. The roads¡¯ll be farther in,¡± said Marina, with an ease in her voice that didn¡¯t sound quite natural.

    H¨¨ctor didn¡¯t say anything. He kicked straight through the fence, shattering it into twigs and dust, and kept walking. It seemed he was pretty clear on what he thought had happened and had no interest in pretending otherwise. His footfalls were heavy with dismay, and that killed the conversation for everyone else.

    They trudged on in silence, their steps heavy despite having no packs on their backs. Dirt looked around for minds, wondering if he¡¯d find something interesting, but he could see nothing except his companions, all the little things that lived in the grass, and the grass itself, which looked almost like a smooth carpet of fog, with so many tiny minds so close together.

    It seemed like it should have been obvious, now that Dirt thought about it. Why would a whole city be safe and alive, only a couple days¡¯ travel from a big town where everyone was dead? And which hadn¡¯t been touched for years? There was still plenty of stuff there, so if any people remained to go get it, they would have. Maybe they wouldn¡¯t have stayed there, with all the ghosts, but surely it was easier than making new stuff.

    No, it seemed increasingly likely that Marina¡¯s city was all going to be dead, too, which made him wonder what they were going to do with the three humans. They couldn¡¯t walk fast enough to travel with him and Socks everywhere, so bringing them along wasn¡¯t an option. Could he and Socks just leave them, though? He supposed they could make it back to the tower, get new packs, and go home after that. It wasn¡¯t that far, even for slow humans.

    Still, thinking about it made him uneasy. He¡¯d been hoping to see where they settled in so he could come back someday when Socks was big enough to be safe from the Devourer. Marina would probably go live with the dryads when she got close to bearing her young, so Dirt could visit her there, but what about H¨¨ctor and Ignasi?

    -I smell more goblins,-- said Socks, to everyone.

    ¡°I wanna come this time,¡± said Dirt. He tossed his little pack to Ignasi to hold and jumped onto Socks¡¯ back. ¡°We¡¯ll be right back. You can keep walking if you want. We¡¯ll find you.¡±

    H¨¨ctor just nodded, then scowled again, his face betraying something deeper than his angry exterior. Regret, possibly. He kept walking without slowing down much, and the other two followed.

    Socks left at a run, following the scent on the wind. He hopped over a fence, crossed the large field, and hopped the fence at the far side. Nearby, Dirt saw a mound all grown over with grass, which might have been a house once. It had something poking up that might have been a wooden plank. There was another one a short distance away, right outside another fence.

    ¡°Hey, jump really high for a second. Let¡¯s see if we¡¯re close enough to see the city from up there,¡± thought Dirt. He held a little more tightly and Socks leaped from the ground with all his strength, burning a great deal of mana at once. The sensation of speed gripped him from hair to toes and Dirt squealed as soon as he could catch his breath. The air slowed. Their momentum slowed.

    For an instant, they hovered in the air. Dirt looked as hard as he could in every direction, and sure enough, in the distance was a ring of gray stone located across a sparkling river. Only a few hours¡¯ journey on foot, or a few minutes for Socks, and they¡¯d be there. ¡°We¡¯re close! It¡¯s right over there,¡± said Dirt, sending a mental picture.

    Then the fall began, and Dirt held on for dear life again. They hit the ground hard, but Socks was moving forward fast enough to absorb the worst of it and keep running.

    The goblins weren¡¯t much farther, a pack of at least ten. Socks threw Dirt right into the middle of them, which was perfect. They were so surprised they hardly had time to scream with their high, raspy voices before Dirt started swinging the staff with both hands and bashing their heads in. With mana in his arms, it almost didn¡¯t matter where he hit them. The staff wouldn¡¯t break, but the goblins sure did.

    Socks grabbed one with his teeth and front paw and tore it in two, flinging the top half at the next one. The thick, heavy corpse slammed into it with a resounding thud, and Socks pinned it down and tore that one apart, too.

    Mindful of his clean pants, Dirt danced away from the spray of blood and bashed another sideways in the knees, then straight down on its head. The skull shattered, but fortunately it burst backward, not forward.

    A few heartbeats later it was over and the goblins were all dead. One of them had a rusty axe that looked human and another had a broken sword. Socks took the axe, then turned over two more goblin corpses until he found a second axe. He spun them dramatically through the air with his mind, looking pleased with himself. Then on a whim, he picked up one of the more intact goblin corpses and tried hacking at it with the axes. They held up a lot better than a sword would, swiping right through the body with a splash of gore while remaining unharmed.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    -I want a big weapon. One big enough for me. I wonder if we can find one somewhere,- said the pup, excitedly imagining how much fun that would be.

    ¡°That would be the scariest thing ever! Can you imagine? Just swoosh, and kill that tentacle monster with one swing! What kind would you want?¡±

    -I don¡¯t know. One that wouldn¡¯t break. But it doesn¡¯t need a handle. It could be all blade.-

    ¡°How about a big ring, a great big circle, that¡¯s only sharp on the outside? You could wear it around your neck if you get tired of carrying it with your mind,¡± said Dirt.

    Socks thought about that and decided he loved it. --The inside could be soft. Then it would be nice to wear. I bet no wolf has ever had something like that before. Now I want to make one.-

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll keep our eyes out for enough metal. And maybe H¨¨ctor knows how to make metal stick together or go into the right shape.¡±

    -He might know,- said Socks. He leaned down and sniffed the ground, then the air. Then he started wagging his tail and said, --There are more goblins around. I smell another group somewhere.-

    Dirt looked around for minds but didn¡¯t see anything close enough to recognize as goblins. ¡°How far away?¡±

    -It¡¯s hard to tell. The scents carry a longer distance on the wind here because there¡¯s nothing but grass.-

    Dirt and Socks looked at each other for a moment, then in the direction of the wind. Dirt rubbed his toe on the grass to get a bit of blood off. ¡°Let¡¯s go back to the others, and then go to the city. We should warn the people there not to go out because there are too many goblins around.¡±

    They both knew that was a degree of optimism bordering on insanity, but Socks didn¡¯t argue. He didn¡¯t have to. He just gave Dirt a bloody little lick and tossed him up onto his back.

    After a short race through the fields, they found the humans hadn¡¯t waited, but neither had they gone far. Marina scanned Dirt for blood before even welcoming them back, and seemed relieved when he wasn¡¯t covered in it, except some on his face where Socks licked him. He wiped it off with his hand, then onto the grass.

    Dirt said, ¡°I saw the city. It¡¯s still there. It¡¯s over a river, right, Marina?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s it! Did you¡­¡± She trailed off.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t get close enough to see the people, but there are more goblins around, so we¡¯re going to go warn the humans before we hunt any more. Just in case,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°The tower was still there, too,¡± grumbled H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°Where¡¯s your sense of joyous optimism?¡± said Ignasi trying to sound mirthful, but his dead-looking eyes gave it away.

    ¡°Good point. Maybe they left all their wine behind!¡± said H¨¨ctor, trying to mimic Ignasi¡¯s tone of voice, which he did very poorly.

    Their failed attempt at banter made the mood worse, not better, and no one had anything to say after that. Socks walked behind, only directing them to turn a little this way or that to keep on the most direct path. They passed through field after field, and the closer they got the more cultivated the area looked. Still no houses; at least, no standing ones. Some had been burned, but most of the others looked like they¡¯d simply been knocked over and hadn¡¯t been sturdy to begin with.

    By the time they got their first glimpse of the gray city walls, many of the fields showed signs of more recent work. Furrows had been dug, now just long rows of weeds and bare dirt. Irrigation ditches wandered everywhere, some full of mud and silent, reeking water.

    Marina looked like she was about to cry, but she stoically kept her head up and faced forward. H¨¨ctor and Ignasi were in equally black spirits, their feet dragging with a weariness that had nothing to do with tired legs.

    Only Dirt held out any hope at all, because those walls had to be good for something. He didn¡¯t dare let himself accept that humans were almost gone from the world, and perhaps only four remained at all. It was certainly starting to look that way.

    The full city came into view, or at least the walls did. They were taller than Socks and made of flat gray stone, carved almost as well as Dirt¡¯s people used to do. They made an impressive unbroken circle around such a huge area they almost looked straight.

    Socks suddenly got an eager lightness in his step that only Dirt detected, and when he looked at the pup¡¯s mind, Socks shut out his thoughts just to tease him. But Dirt could guess what he¡¯d seen. He looked with his mind-sight and sure enough, at the barest edges of his perception, a number of bright minds appeared. They were too distant to see exactly what they were, but Dirt already knew.

    ¡°There are people!¡± he shouted. His heart filled with such relief and happiness that it almost turned into tears, and only focus and willpower kept him from cracking.

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°What? How do you know?¡± He was the first to answer, but Ignasi and Marina had been about to, and now awaited his reply.

    But Dirt gave no explanation, choosing instead to sprint the rest of the way to the walls. It was a longer distance than he¡¯d estimated, since the walls were huge, but Socks happily raced him and an instant later, Dirt was standing close enough to throw something and hit the stones.

    ¡°Hello!¡± he shouted. His voice hit the flat wall and echoed back to him.

    They waited. No answer came. ¡°Hello! Hello, humans!¡± he shouted again.

    Dirt used his mind-sight again. There was no direction, since he and Socks weren¡¯t melding their thoughts, but he could guess the distance. There were hundreds in there, too many to count quickly. The town was alive! Most of them were farther in, with only a few who¡¯d been close enough to hear. Those ones looked at each other in confusion¡ªa group of four women with dark hair like Marina.

    ¡°We¡¯re outside! Hello! How do we get in?¡± he shouted, as loud as he could.

    The women reacted in horror and whispered to each other. There could be no children outside the walls. Not living ones, or human. This was some new, terrifying threat.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay! We¡¯re not dangerous! Hello?¡±

    The women ran, thinking they had to find and tell someone. Danger. Dirt realized he should have been just focusing on one instead of trying to watch them all at once, because he might¡¯ve gotten more information that way.

    Socks stepped up to the wall and stood on his hind legs. He stretched out as far as he could and it was just barely enough for him to peek over the wall into the city.

    H¨¨ctor reached them first, running without enthusiasm. Marina and Ignasi weren¡¯t far behind. ¡°There¡¯s no one on the walls. The town¡¯s dead,¡± said H¨¨ctor, his black eyes betraying a flicker of hope.

    -Dirt was not lying. There are humans in there. Plenty of them. But not as many as I expected. They are afraid of us, even though they haven¡¯t seen me yet,-- said Socks, to everyone.

    ¡°How do we get in?¡± Dirt asked. ¡°I can just jump over, but that can¡¯t be it, right?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a gate, Dirt,¡± said Marina, with such an air of exasperation that Ignasi started cheering up.

    ¡°Oh. Of course. Are you going in that way?¡±

    Marina said, ¡°It was closed. If you hadn¡¯t run off so fast I would¡¯ve told you. It¡¯s over that way. Come on. If there¡¯s still anyone in there, they¡¯ll be watching the gate.¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°I already said there are people in there.¡±

    Marina turned to walk in the direction of the gate, but Dirt opened his backpack and took his fresh red shirt and pulled it on for the first time. It was itchy and smelled old, but it was soft and flexible and he¡¯d get used to it. He looked down to see how it went with his green pants, and decided he liked it. Then he plopped down to put his shoes and socks on for the first time, too. The socks felt weird and were probably a little too tight, but they¡¯d be fine. The thin leather shoes were loose on his feet, making an odd contrast. The socks squeezed his toes, but slid around inside the shoes.

    He rose to his feet. ¡°How do I look? Can you comb my hair again?¡±

    ¡°You almost look like you came from a womb, not a seed,¡± said Ignasi.

    Marina gave him a half-hearted smile and quickly combed Dirt¡¯s hair. ¡°I¡¯m pretty eager to get moving now, if you don¡¯t mind?¡± she said.

    ¡°Nope. Thank you. Go ahead. Socks, can you wait for a little bit so I can warn them about you, so they don¡¯t all scream and run away?¡± said Dirt.

    In answer, Socks leaned down and gave him an encouraging lick. -I will wait unless you get into trouble,- he told Dirt. -But not for long. I smell food in there, and many other things.-

    ¡°I know, but you¡¯re big and scary. Just try not to kill anyone until I get a chance to make friends. It worked with Marina and H¨¨ctor and Ignasi.¡±

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°Come on, get moving.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon.¡±

    He turned and ran to the wall. With each step he inhaled a bit more mana until he was full, his body protected and muscles strengthened. He gripped the staff tighter and held his knife with the other hand so it wouldn¡¯t come out.

    Then he jumped right over the wall, soaring over the wide area atop it where people could walk, and coming down on the other side right into a tile roof that shattered under his feet. The hard tiles flew into tiny bits and exploded everywhere, but he didn¡¯t go all the way through the roof. He caught on a crossbeam and had to carefully extricate himself without ripping his pants. It took him a moment, but there was no one in the immediate vicinity to mock him.

    When he slid off the roof and finally landed on the stone walkway leading to the building he¡¯d damaged, he closed his mind-sight. The city inside the walls was dense¡ªthat was the most interesting thing. All the houses were built so close together they made one long building that ran up either side of the road. Ahead, he could see some open areas, and a small alley to his left led to a fenced area that might be a little pasture.

    This was something new. A completely new place, with humans inside to meet. He dusted himself off, let a sincere and eager smile break out on his face, and started walking up the road in the direction the women had gone.

 The Druid - Chapter 20

    The roads weren¡¯t as straight as Dirt¡¯s people used to make, nor the angles of construction anywhere near as exacting, but there was a certain similarity that felt familiar. The city inside the walls had houses that went right up to the road with doors that opened right onto the street, and most were at least two stories, even the narrow ones. Covered alleyways led between them to other streets, or small gardens, or the Gods only knew what else.

    Many of the houses had shops on the bottom floor, with colorful signs that Dirt still couldn¡¯t quite read, since most of the letters looked different and the words weren¡¯t his original language. The shops seemed untended, with closed shutters or dusty cobwebs in windows that opened into darkness.

    Still, it wasn¡¯t abandoned. This part of town looked like it was dying, but not dead; and there were still plenty of humans inside. Too many to count, the farther he got, but none that looked close enough to be in any of the buildings on this street. What had those four women been doing, then?

    The street ended at an intersection and Dirt turned left, since it looked like it would lead him closer to the center of town. An old woman peeked at him out a second-story window, gray hair peeking out from under a shawl. She reminded Dirt of a pale, wrinkly goblin, and Dirt couldn¡¯t help peeking at her mind.

    Her thoughts about him were complicated, but informative. He shouldn¡¯t be out running around alone like this. Loners were trouble. And where did he get the new clothes? He must be stealing, but everything was already picked over. When she closed her shutters and withdrew into her home, he decided to stop looking at all their minds unless he felt threatened. He was already going to stand out; humans had a very small set of things they found acceptable, and it¡¯d be best if he wasn¡¯t too far outside it.

    Near the end of that street, it intersected with a bigger one that went straight to the center of town, which was a nicer building than all the rest, with towers at each of the four corners and stylistic stonework all the way up and down. Humans milled about in the area surrounding it, marking that as the city¡¯s forum. That house might be a temple, perhaps, or some sort of civic building he wasn¡¯t familiar with. People often gathered there for the city¡¯s business, it appeared, standing under tents or awnings and others carrying baskets or sacks.

    A group of children, all smaller than him, ran out from one alley, across the street, and into another alley, before he could stop and say hello. A dog barked from inside a nearby house, sounding surprisingly unlike a wolf.

    This was it. Dirt was in a truly human place, one still occupied. New scents and sounds surrounded him¡ªbaking bread and laughter, rotting garbage and slamming doors. It seemed everywhere he looked was something new. That shop sold meat, even though it looked like they didn¡¯t have much; that one sold clothing but it wasn¡¯t open right now. Up ahead, a man pulled a cart whose contents were under a blanket, and two women fell in behind him and chatted loudly about running out of salt.

    He walked down the center of the street, tapping the staff with each step and listening to how the sound vanished in the growing turbulence of life. A man younger than H¨¨ctor gave him a long look, then nodded. Dirt nodded back and the man turned away. In fact, it seemed everyone noticed him, looking him over without coming to say hello, and he wasn¡¯t sure if that was normal.

    Was he already standing out? He had all the same clothing as they did. Pants, shirt, shoes. He was holding a staff and they weren¡¯t, but did that matter? He opened his mind-sight again to see if he could learn anything, but it overwhelmed him and he closed it again. It¡¯d take a little more practice to learn to tell them apart with so many, and now was not the time to just stand there with a blank look on his face.

    Commotion seemed to be growing in the forum, so Dirt hurried along in that direction. All along the street, people stopped what they were doing and looked to see what was going on, even though there wasn¡¯t much to see. Or hear. Dirt supposed they were stopping to look because everyone else was.

    He kept walking, but before he made it to the forum two men with bows came walking boldly from the crowd. Everyone scrambled to get out of their way, except for four women who followed close behind, who pulled up their skirts a little so they could walk fast enough to keep up.

    ¡°Make way!¡± one of the archers shouted, his voice echoing off the buildings all the way up and down the street. He didn¡¯t need to, though¡ªthere was plenty of room to get through. People got out of the way anyway, moving toward the edge of the street. Dirt was too slow to react and found himself standing alone in the middle of the road.

    The two archers and four women reached him and slowed slightly, giving him curious looks, or disapproval.

    Dirt made a quick decision and said, ¡°Hey, are you looking for me?¡±

    ¡°Get out of the way!¡± scolded one of the women. They passed him and kept going.

    ¡°From outside the wall?¡± Dirt called after them.

    That got them to stop. The men slyly drew arrows and turned around, not quite nocking them, but ready to in an instant. Seeing that, the crowd quickly went silent, then began whispering to each other to figure out what was going on.

    ¡°Were you playing a trick, boy? What were you doing near the wall?¡± said an archer. He wore a round metal helmet and had a long, bushy mustache that covered his mouth but not his chin.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t playing a trick at all. I just said hello, but no one answered,¡± said Dirt. He loosened his grip on the staff a little and relaxed his posture, hoping it made him look friendlier.

    ¡°What did you say, exactly?¡± said the other archer, with the less impressive mustache. He looked a lot younger.

    ¡°I yelled hello and asked how you get in. I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to scare anybody. I didn¡¯t know there was a gate until right after that.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what we heard,¡± said one of the women. They were older than Marina, but not all crinkly like the woman in the window, and not wearing anything to make them stand out. If anything, their clothing looked a lot more worn than he would have expected.

    The men angrily put their arrows back and slung their bows over one shoulder. ¡°I knew this was a waste of time,¡± said the first one. He turned to walk back toward the forum.

    ¡°If you can find his parents, tell them to whip him black and blue. Don¡¯t come running to us with stupid stories again,¡± said the second.

    One of the women, who had a pudgy face, said, ¡°There was no mistaking it! It obviously wasn¡¯t him!¡±

    The first archer gestured at Dirt and said, ¡°Then how did he know what you heard? Boy, was it you who shouted?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it was me,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Was I not supposed to do that? Sorry, I didn¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Pranks about the walls are serious trouble!¡± yelled the first archer, learning forward to make himself more intimidating. He pointed a finger in Dirt¡¯s face, and Dirt felt himself instinctively wanting to shy away from it. This must be how humans raised their young, like when Mother growled at her pups.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a prank,¡± said Dirt. Actually, was it a good idea to tell them he was from outside? There were so many people here that they weren¡¯t sure if he belonged or not, which had never occurred to him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I won¡¯t do it again.¡±

    ¡°See that you do not!¡± yelled the man, a speck of spittle somehow making it past his giant mustache to land on Dirt¡¯s shirt. ¡°Or I¡¯ll throw you over it! Understand?¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± said Dirt. He shied away from the looming man and peered around for a path to escape. He should just go to a different street and meet some other people, or maybe find children his size first and talk to them.

    ¡°Do you? Or do you need some bruises to help you remember?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll remember!¡± He looked in the man¡¯s dark brown eyes while he said it, to look more sincere. The archer nodded and stood back up straight. He peered down side-eyed at Dirt, nodded, and stepped to leave.

    ¡°Where¡¯d he get the shirt?¡± asked the fat-faced woman.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Dirt looked down at his nice red shirt, with black embroidery all around the hem. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Where¡¯d you get it, boy?¡± she asked, stepping forward.

    The men looked exasperated and ready to be done with this, but they didn¡¯t stop the woman from getting close and pinching the hemline around Dirt¡¯s neck.

    ¡°Are you going to pretend like you recognize it now?¡± asked the younger archer. ¡°Turn him from a prankster to a thief?¡±

    ¡°Of course I recognize it,¡± she snapped back. ¡°This pattern is from Llovella, and it¡¯s too clean for a fifteen-year-old shirt.¡±

    Dirt squirmed, trying not to look too guilty. He glanced around with fresh eyes at the clothes everyone else had on, and most of it was ragged and repaired with patches, not just these women¡¯s. He might have the only complete, unmarred shirt on the entire street.

    ¡°Sixteen years, now,¡± said one of other women, with graying hair. ¡°Looks like he stepped right out of a painting, doesn¡¯t he?¡±

    They all started giving Dirt long, appraising looks, considering his attire from head to toe. At least his hair was combed. Still, he hadn¡¯t expected this. Looking too nice?

    --Do you want me to come?-- asked Socks.

    ¡°Not yet. I¡¯m not sure how to tell everyone,¡± said Dirt.

    -Just tell them and if they get mad, then I¡¯ll come,- said Socks.

    ¡°Okay. Here goes,¡± replied Dirt. He took a deep breath and stood up straight. Aloud, he said, ¡°I got the shirt in¡­ How did you say the name? Llovella? Is that a town with a big tower in the middle? Is that what it¡¯s called?¡±

    No one answered and the atmosphere grew tense. Dirt swallowed and said, ¡°I guess that¡¯s what it¡¯s called. Marina never actually said, now that I think about it. Anyway, I¡¯m not scary or anything. I just wanted to come meet some humans.¡±

    The first archer snorted and said, ¡°I suppose you simply walked up and jumped over the wall?¡±

    Dirt felt fear creeping in, nervousness that he was about to ruin everything. Why was this so hard? He was a human just like them. At least they weren¡¯t pointing a sword at him like H¨¨ctor had done.

    ¡°Okay, well, if I show you something, can you promise to listen and not attack me or anything? Or scream and run away?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a goblin in disguise,¡± muttered one of the women.

    Another woman snorted at the obvious joke, but the good humor died immediately as everyone starting wondering if that was possible.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a goblin. I¡¯m human. Obviously. I¡¯m not even green!¡±

    The younger archer said, ¡°And he¡¯s not walking around shouting Boy! Meat! Good boy!¡± However, he didn¡¯t use his own language for the ¡®boy, meat¡¯ part. He used Dirt¡¯s.

    Dirt felt the blood leave his face. It¡¯d never occurred to him until this moment, but goblins spoke his language, didn¡¯t they? His old one, from the Sunset Empire. At least the few words they knew. How was that possible?

    ¡°I promise I¡¯m just a normal human. And I have friends coming to the gate. If you take me there, we can meet them and they¡¯ll explain,¡± said Dirt. He could tell by the way they stood that he was becoming less convincing with every word he said.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name, boy?¡± asked the older archer.

    ¡°Dirt,¡± said Dirt. ¡°It means Dirt.¡±

    ¡°And your father¡¯s name?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember.¡±

    ¡°Mother¡¯s?¡±

    ¡°Her either.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a family name at all? Any names besides Dirt?¡±

    ¡°Avitus,¡± said Dirt, and immediately regretted it.

    Fortunately, the older archer thought it was a joke and just laughed. ¡°Good name for an orphan.¡±

    ¡°I really do have friends coming to the gate, though. Can you tell me where it is so I can meet them before I do something else stupid?¡±

    The older archer looked at the women, then twitched his entire mustache. He exchanged a knowing nod with the younger man and said, ¡°Fine. Come with me, little Avitus. Gen¨ªs, you escort the ladies home and check the walls. Just to be safe.¡±

    The younger archer said, ¡°Don¡¯t get eaten, old man.¡±

    The older man snorted again and gave Dirt a little shove on the shoulder to get him moving. Dirt didn¡¯t know which direction he was supposed to walk, though, so he just stumbled. Then, just like that, the archer was leading him through the bustling streets. They didn¡¯t pass through the forum, turning instead onto a less-populated side road, then another. Each turn led them somewhere emptier and emptier until finally, there was hardly a soul to be seen.

    Satisfied they were isolated enough for conversation, the man said, ¡°Where have you been staying, boy?¡±

    ¡°Just kind of all over the place, I guess,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Who¡¯s been feeding you?¡±

    ¡°A friend. A couple friends.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°I doubt you know them. Home, and Socks,¡± said Dirt. He started feeling a little guilty about the misdirection, but it didn¡¯t quite count as lying, so he decided it was fine. They were honest answers, after all.

    ¡°Did you steal the clothes you have on?¡± asked the archer, quietly.

    Dirt stopped walking, thinking. He furrowed his brow and squeezed the staff. He looked around and found that there were only a handful of people around, and no one was watching. ¡°Remember when I asked if I could show you something?¡±

    The man gave him a knowing look, but there was something of pity in it. He said, ¡°I was an orphan like you, boy. Dirt. Avitus.¡± That name made him grin again. ¡°I know how it is. But you¡¯ll have to be smarter from now on because you¡¯re not fooling anybody. Wearing stolen clothes that obvious, then causing commotion? You¡¯re going to get beaten. If you¡¯re lucky. If you¡¯re not lucky, whatever baker you¡¯re stealing from will kill you and toss your body into the river. So let me ask you, boy. Do you need help?¡±

    Dirt looked at the ground, feeling ashamed, if not for the reasons the man thought. Dirt took only the briefest glimpse at his mind and found troubled sympathy. Pity. That made it worse. He was going to have to explain, and the man would think him a liar who spurned a moment of charity.

    ¡°Don¡¯t run, Avitus. I won¡¯t hurt you. I won¡¯t do anything at all, if you don¡¯t want. But I know a safe place you can stay. You can even bring a friend or two. Shall we sit down and talk about it?¡± asked the archer, gesturing at a bench built into a house¡¯s fa?ade. ¡°My name is Vidal, by the way.¡±

    Dirt sat where Vidal indicated and leaned forward on the staff, his mind spinning as he tried to think how to approach this.

    ¡°When I was your age, times were not this bad,¡± said Vidal, looking down the street the other direction. ¡°People still travelled, and boats came on the river, and there was plenty of food. But not for me. Not for little Vidal. Roach, they called me.¡±

    The man paused, apparently waiting for Dirt to speak. ¡°Vidal, can I ask you something? Do your people know any magic?¡±

    ¡°No one in the guard knows any magic. That¡¯s women¡¯s business, curses and such. Women and noblemen. Why do you ask me that, of all things? Have you been cursed?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated, but not like you¡¯re thinking. But I want to show you something, and you have to promise not to scream and run away. Or attack me.¡±

    Vidal¡¯s kind face hardened a bit, his eyes growing more wary. ¡°Show me what? Something wrong with your knife?¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s not it. Watch,¡± said Dirt. He gritted his teeth and snapped his fingers, making a light. It hovered lazily above his head, hard to see in the sunlight but still bright enough to add to the shadows nearby.

    It took Vidal a moment to realize what he was seeing, and his eyes got wider and wider. He leaned away to get a clearer look and almost fell off the bench.

    Dirt said, ¡°I¡¯m not from here. Those ladies were right. I was outside, yelling over the wall, just a little bit ago. I jumped over, but I have no idea where to go from here.¡±

    Vidal¡¯s mind spun until something clicked. He jumped to his feet and shouted a word Dirt didn¡¯t recognize, drawing an arrow and unslinging his bow in one quick motion.

    ¡°Wait! I¡¯m not scary! I won¡¯t hurt anyone!¡± yelled Dirt, standing and holding out his hand. He made the light go out, but it was too late.

    Vidal fired an arrow at him, but it was a trick and never would have hit. It was meant to scare him. But he only realized that in midair as he jumped up to the nearest roof to get away. Dirt landed on the hard tiles and froze, realizing he¡¯d ruined everything. That was not a typical human jump. He turned and saw Vidal nocking another arrow, and something in the man¡¯s eyes told Dirt the next shot wouldn¡¯t miss.

    Dirt jumped again and an arrow whistled inches from his head. He landed on the roof across the street, then ran along it and jumped to the next one.

    Behind him, Vidal shouted, his stentorian voice roaring up from the road and seemingly filling the whole city. It wasn¡¯t a word, but rather just a pattern, three short bursts of sound. A moment later, a bell rang, then another.

    Dirt ran from one rooftop to the next until he hit a loose tile and slid all the way down, falling two stories onto the hard cobblestone. Mana saved him from breaking any bones, but people saw him land, then rise, and jump again. A chorus of terrified shouts followed after him.

    Bells rang and horns called, echoing through the hard streets. Doors and shutters slammed and hard-booted feet clacked as soldiers ran. All this just for him? This was so stupid! Why does this happen every time? He should¡¯ve just walked in like normal with Marina and the others and kept his mouth shut. He should¡¯ve known. Humans were wary and mistrustful creatures. Weak and small and skittish. The slightest thing could set them all off. And to make it worse, Vidal had turned out to be someone Dirt genuinely wanted to be friends with.

    Dirt ran up the street, wondering if he could just stop and hide and let everyone forget about him for a little while. Only Vidal and a few others knew what he looked like, so maybe if he took his shirt off?

    No, he should head out and let H¨¨ctor and the others figure out what to do. He inhaled more mana and jumped up to the roof again, then sprang like a bug to the next one, soaring high in the air. High enough to see the wall, and over there, the gate. Socks was standing patiently not too far beyond it. Dirt jumped, ran, and jumped again, and soon he landed in the middle of the widest road in the city and sprinted down it at wolfish speed.

    Archers, dozens of them, stood on the walls over and around the gate, all their bows drawn and facing outward. Dirt slid to a stop, wondering why they¡¯d be more concerned about outside when the alarm had been raised in here.

    ¡°Fire!¡± shouted a foreman.

    Dirt screamed ¡°No!¡± as countless bowstring were plucked, sending a hail of arrows down onto his friends. ¡°Stop! He¡¯ll kill you all!¡±

    The men shouted in fear as the arrows all bounced off of nothing in midair, many of them flung away as if by a swiping hand.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Dirt shouted again, screaming as loud as he could. Everyone but the archers ran the opposite direction, away from the gate and into the town, but at least they weren¡¯t screaming. They probably hadn¡¯t seen Socks yet.

    Before Dirt could shout again, the gate vibrated and then shattered inward, the whole thing coming off its rails and flying into the street. The concussive sound was deafening as it echoed on the stone.

    Socks calmly walked in, blocking all the arrows with a mental shield. H¨¨ctor and the others crouched beneath him for safety, creeping as he went.

    -Hello, Dirt.- said the pup, walking forward until he got to Dirt. Then he licked him. -Are you all right?-

 The Druid - Chapter 21

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± said Dirt, panting. He tried to hide how bothered he was by the last few minutes, but of course Socks knew. The pup could smell it on him and see his thoughts.

    An arrow clattered to the ground behind Dirt. Socks¡¯ lips pulled back into a snarl and he growled, low and menacing. It was loud enough to make the roof shingles rattle. He shouted, -THE NEXT PERSON TO SHOOT AN ARROW IS GETTING RIPPED APART, WHETHER IT MAKES MY HUMAN MAD OR NOT.-

    Ignasi jumped out from his hiding place under the wolf and raised his arms and shouted, ¡°Stand down! He¡¯s friendlier than he looks!¡±

    H¨¨ctor followed him out. He didn¡¯t shout, but he did mutter, ¡°And a lot more dangerous.¡±

    Dirt held his breath, hoping no one else would shoot. If they did, they deserved what happened to them, but he still wanted to make friends with the city if they could sort things out.

    Socks shot his gaze to the wall behind him, fixing on one particular archer who had nocked an arrow and drawn it. -DO IT. I WILL PAINT THAT WALL WITH YOUR INSIDES.- The archer tossed the bow off the wall and raised his hands.

    The pup¡¯s mental voice couldn¡¯t make the houses rattle, but Dirt was sure it was deafening across the whole city anyway. Socks was being about as loud as Mother or Father, just on the edge of causing physical pain. Dirt was used to it, sort of, but no one else was. A few fleeing humans ducked and uselessly covered their ears. Several archers dropped their bows and tried to flee, which wasn¡¯t very effective atop the narrow wall. They had nowhere to go and just crashed into each other.

    Socks scanned the wall, eyes stopping on each archer in turn while he growled, making waves of deep rumbling thud in Dirt¡¯s chest. Even though they were best friends, Dirt could do nothing to stop the animal fear that rose in him any time he heard it. He told himself he was afraid for all the humans Socks was about to kill, but that wasn¡¯t quite true.

    Fortunately for them, none of the archers fired another arrow. After Socks was satisfied, he dropped the arrows he was holding with his mind and they fell to the stone with a rushing clatter. He stood up on his hind legs to sniff a couple archers, who froze and tried not to scream. Satisfied that they weren¡¯t going to shoot any more arrows, he got back down and came to sniff Dirt again.

    ¡°I¡¯m really okay, Socks, I promise,¡± said Dirt, patting his nose.

    -Fine. Now that you humans have all calmed down, who is the father human? Come out, wherever you are.-

    ¡°The what now?¡± asked an amused Ignasi, his nonchalant manner making him stand out about as much as Socks did.

    -The father human,- said Socks. -The ones whose den this is. The oldest. The father.-

    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works,¡± said Ignasi, grinning.

    -What do you mean?-

    Ignasi said, ¡°The person in charge is not the father of all the people who live here.¡±

    -He lets other families live amongst his brood?-

    The city¡¯s uproar kept growing in the background. Crashing sounds echoed down the street, or bells, or trumpet calls from all over town. Dirt¡¯s anxiety grew as well, wondering just how much damage this much panic could cause. Most people wouldn¡¯t know whose voice that was in their heads, or what that huge crash had been when Socks smashed the gate open.

    --Who is the father of the men on the wall, then? Which one?- asked Socks.

    ¡°I¡¯m a father,¡± said one of the archers. He sounded young, even though it was hard to tell beneath their conical metal helmets. The man probably meant to shout, but his voice was too unsteady from terror and it didn¡¯t come out that way.

    ¡°He means the captain,¡± yelled H¨¨ctor. ¡°Who¡¯s the captain?¡±

    One man raised his hand, who looked just like all the rest. Dirt had expected him to be taller, at least, or have a different color shirt.

    Socks plucked the man from the wall, causing several others to scream. One archer raised his bow again but lowered it again when Socks¡¯ yellow eyes glanced in his direction. He set the captain neatly on his feet next to Dirt and said, --That is my human, Dirt. He came from far away and wanted to meet some humans, so be nice to him.-

    The captain was too stunned to speak, eyes wild with fear, mouth hanging open. He couldn¡¯t even twitch his fingers. Ignasi stepped over and put his arm around the man¡¯s shoulders, leaning on him in a friendly, familiar manner. ¡°Let me help you, friend. That is a giant wolf,¡± he said, grinning widely and pointing at Socks. ¡°Make sense so far?¡±

    The captain hesitated, but nodded.

    ¡°Good! Now this, this is a little boy,¡± he said, pointing at Dirt. ¡°Still with me?¡±

    The captain nodded, a hint of clarity returning to his eyes.

    ¡°Good! Now for the confusing part. The wolf and the boy are friends. Take a minute. Think about it. Nod when you¡¯re ready,¡± said Ignasi, sounding almost ready to laugh. He was having too much fun, and it was infectious. At least to H¨¨ctor and Marina and Dirt, anyway. No one else was amused.

    ¡°They¡¯re friends,¡± said the captain, after a breath or two. Dirt could tell from his voice that he didn¡¯t believe it, or wasn¡¯t quite understanding what he was saying. ¡°The boy and the wolf. Are friends.¡±

    ¡°Very good! Believe me, you¡¯re picking it up faster than I did. H¨¨ctor even threatened the boy with a sword; can you believe that? The stupidity! But we are all foolish sometimes, and such is life. Now, because the wolf and the boy are friends, if you are nice to the boy, then what will the wolf do?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± it took another breath or two for the captain to shove down his animalistic terror sufficient to finally process what was going on. Instead of answering, though, he stared, swallowing hard.

    ¡°Come on, now, my good man,¡± said Ignasi. ¡°It¡¯s important. Let¡¯s try this again. What is that?¡± Ignasi pointed at Socks, whose tail twitched in growing amusement.

    ¡°I get it! Get off me,¡± said the captain, finally regaining the rest of his wits. He turned to Dirt and said, ¡°Why did you attack us? What do you want? Who are you?¡±

    ¡°Maybe answer those in reverse order,¡± said Ignasi.

    Dirt paused, then grinned. ¡°I¡¯m Dirt. I want to see a human city with the people still in it. And I didn¡¯t attack you¡ªyou attacked me.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said the captain. ¡°We did not attack you. The wolf attacked first.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you did. A man named Vidal shot an arrow at me, and then raised an alarm so everyone would chase me down,¡± said Dirt, allowing some of his offended peevishness into his voice.

    ¡°Vidal from the guard? Big mustache? Why would he shoot an arrow at you?¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Because I did something wrong, I guess.¡±

    ¡°What did you do?¡± asked the captain, leaning back like he expected Dirt to try and hit him with the staff.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m certainly not going to do it again, am I? Look what happened,¡± said Dirt.

    Most of the people around had fled, except the archers. But a few others lingered, having realized they were not about to be eaten and curious what was going on. They watched from inside windows or huddled behind barrels, or other such places. Another crept nearer and hid, a child. Then an old woman. The alarms ringing across the city only increased.

    ¡°This is not how I pictured our arrival,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    That got a chuckle out of Marina, who stood with her hands on her hips, feigning exasperation. It was only momentary, though, and quickly faded into a bright-eyed eagerness she did nothing to hide. ¡°Captain, there¡¯s far too much to explain. But I can vouch for the wolf and his pet boy. They won¡¯t harm anyone who doesn¡¯t try to harm them first.¡±

    ¡°And who are you?¡± asked the captain.

    ¡°I¡¯m Marina Sumar, and I was in Oriol¡¯s band. I¡¯m a daughter of Ogena. It¡¯s been twenty years, but I¡¯ve returned.¡± She said it triumphantly, like she expected applause. She didn¡¯t get it.

    He asked, ¡°What is Oriol¡¯s band?¡±

    Socks interrupted. --Those of you coming to the gate better calm down. If you shoot an arrow, I¡¯ll kill you,- he said, adding a sense of predatory menace to his words to make sure they got the idea. He had his ears up and head high.

    Dirt hadn¡¯t heard the clatter over all the other noise, but now that he looked up the street, a band of armored men were running in tight formation toward the gate. Their metal boots pounded the stone street in near-perfect unison as the few remaining stragglers in the road jumped out of their way.

    One soldier shouted, and the rest shouted back in unison, as if making a greater animal out of themselves by adding their voices together. Dirt had no idea humans could be so loud, but the sound struck him with fear, almost as bad as Socks¡¯ growls did. It was a dangerous, threatening sound, and those soldiers showed no sign of stopping.

    There were so many! Rows and rows of them, ten men across. At another shout, they tightened their formation. The front row readied their shield as the rows behind lowered their spears, pointing them forward with menace.

    --All of you stay here,- said Socks, just to the few people standing right there talking with him. The pup stepped over them, moving in the direction of the army. Behind them, the entire gate lifted from the ground and floated forward. Socks¡¯ steps grew heavy and slow from the strain of carrying that much weight, solid wood reinforced with bands of metal, but he didn¡¯t slow down or let on. Dirt only noticed because he was watching for it.

    The army was only a few dozen paces away now, and admirably, they didn¡¯t all split up and run away. As Socks stepped calmly forward, he made the gate slam sideways into a house, shattering the whole second story from floor to shingles and sending the pieces flying. Then he smashed a house on the other side of the street, easy as Dirt crushing a bug with his palm.

    The gate rose high in the air and moved forward over the soldiers. Despite all their discipline, they couldn¡¯t help but slow their assault and look up.

    The gate flew downward, pressed faster than simply falling.

    And stopped, inches above their heads. Dirt felt the wind from its fanning all the way back here. The soldiers screamed as one, most falling to the ground or jumping to the side to try and get away. Socks shook it slightly, letting it rattle overhead.

    --STOP ATTACKING IF YOU WANT TO LIVE.- Socks¡¯ mental voice was loud enough Dirt was sure every creature heard it from here to the mountains. -I AM NOT YOUR ENEMY, BUT I DON¡¯T CARE ABOUT YOU ENOUGH TO KEEP TOLERATING THIS. STOP THE HORNS AND BELLS AND SHOUTING.-

    One soldier picked himself up faster than the rest and gave a shout, words Dirt couldn¡¯t make out and wasn¡¯t sure were even words. Some of the others fell into formation, but most of them tossed their weapons aside and raised their hands.

    ¡°Cowards!¡± shouted the first soldier. ¡°Get up and fight!¡±

    Socks continued his calm forward pace until he stood close enough to sniff the nearest soldiers. One tried to play dead and two others hastily scrambled away. A fourth man whimpered and clutched his spear, unable to bring himself to stand up and fight. Socks said, -You cannot hurt me. I am being very patient because of Dirt and because you are harmless. But I will only be patient for so long and this gate is heavy. Want me to drop it?-

    At least twenty men yelped and ran to get out from under it, and that was the last of the soldier¡¯s formation. Socks let the gate slam onto the street, landing perfectly flat to make it louder. Then he stepped forward, on it and over, and approached the first soldier, the one who¡¯d tried to rally them. He was the only one Dirt could see with a sword instead of a spear, and his helmet had ornamentation that stood out from the rest.

    Dirt ran up to join Socks, since it looked like the fight had been avoided. He patted the pup¡¯s leg and sent him a puff of affection. ¡°Thanks for not killing them all. I think they¡¯ll see reason if we can just talk a little.¡±

    -I like that they were brave.-

    ¡°Me too. Did the gate make your feet sore?¡±

    -No, it wasn¡¯t for very long.-

    ¡°Good.¡±

    The head soldier looked from Dirt to Socks and back again, face distraught. He was a young man as well, clean-shaven, with eyes nearly as dark as H¨¨ctor¡¯s that seemed to lurk inside his helmet. ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Now this is a man among men!¡± said Ignasi, suddenly nearby. ¡°See him, the man who keeps his wits the first time he meets Socks! And an angry Socks as well!¡±

    ¡°Which one is Socks?¡± he asked. ¡°Whose voice was that?¡±

    ¡°We are having to repeat ourselves. If I explain again, will you promise to get word around so we don¡¯t have to stop and tell every flower seller and urchin we come across?¡± said Ignasi, whose good humor continued to be perfectly at odds with the atmosphere of the area.

    ¡°Are we under attack?¡± asked the soldier.

    -Not yet. If I felt like attacking, you¡¯d know.-

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, friend, that¡¯s the wolf. He speaks to your mind and uses a fortified gate like a woman¡¯s fan, and a hundred other terrifying things. But a creature this handsome and dignified is only dangerous when he wishes to be. His name is Socks, which has a meaning I¡¯m not going to share because you won¡¯t believe me. And this is his little human, Dirt, whom he found somewhere and has been carrying around for company on his adventures.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Am I wrong?¡± asked Ignasi with an exaggerated flourish. The man was truly having a great time.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t complain. I am Ignasi, and this scowling grump is H¨¨ctor, from the city of Nullor.¡±

    ¡°Why is the wolf here, though? And what happened to the gate?¡± said the soldier, still gripping his spear as if he hadn¡¯t completely made up his mind.

    Marina edged slightly in front of Ignasi and said, ¡°The boy and wolf helped us find our way. I¡¯m Marina Sumar, and twenty years ago, Oriol led a group of us to Nullor. I¡¯ve returned. We need to speak with the Duke.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re from outside? We¡¯re not cut off anymore?¡± asked the young soldier, his dark eyes gaining a glimmer of hope that softened his face considerably.

    ¡°We¡¯re from outside,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°You¡¯re not cut off anymore, and neither are we.¡±

    ¡°Get the avitus first!¡± came a shout from a side alley. Startled, Dirt turned to see Vidal, his face red from exertion, leading a small group of guardsmen with bows. They saw Socks and trembled but kept their wits. ¡°The boy in red!¡±

    Vidal raised his bow in an instant and fired an arrow that took Dirt in the stomach. It felt like getting punched, the force of it knocking him backward. He stumbled and fell over, jarring the arrow further. It had gone straight through him and stuck there.

    Vidal rose into the air, floated forward into the street, and screamed in horrified agony as his arms were torn off. Socks flung them around, spreading blood all over a nearby wall, then ripped him in half in a burst of bloody viscera, which dripped to the ground like rain. He dropped the remains right there with a wet, heavy thud, then plucked the guardsmen¡¯s bows from their hands and broke them in half.

    -I WARNED YOU.-

    ¡°Ow, that really, really hurts,¡± said Dirt, rising to his feet and plucking gingerly at his shirt. Tears came to his eyes and he started choking, trying not to cry. His stomach was agony and touching the arrow just made it worse.

    ¡°No!¡± whispered Marina, covering her mouth with her hands.

    ¡°Socks, can you just pull it out, please?¡± Dirt asked, voice tight.

    The pup wasted no time and yanked it the rest of the way through. Dirt screamed and started crying in earnest. He awkwardly lifted his shirt and pulled it off.

    Socks leaned down and started licking his wound. The pup licked him so much that saliva soaked his pants to the knees, but the blood soon stopped and the pain diminished.

    Dirt turned around, still crying softly. ¡°My back too,¡± he said.

    Socks dutifully licked his back while Dirt tried to regain his composure. Even though the worst of the pain had been temporary, it still ached inside like he¡¯d been punched.

    When the wound on his back had closed sufficiently as well, Socks tenderly lifted him onto his back and laid him down. Dirt settled into the pup¡¯s fur, still sniffling.

    Ignasi was the first to speak. ¡°It is always something new with these two,¡± he said, his voice warm and friendly. ¡°They are a charming pair, aren¡¯t they? Don¡¯t worry about your shirt, Dirt. It can be washed and mended. It¡¯ll be good as new.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Dirt. He could hear everyone else¡¯s horror in their silence, and that helped him settle down a little. Let them fret, stupid humans.

    -How many more of you will I be killing today?- Socks asked, his voice protective and angry.

    After only a short pause, the leading soldier shouted, ¡°Cancel the alarms! Stand down!¡±

 The Druid - Chapter 22

    A soldier raised a small horn to his lips and blew a different pattern than the others ringing across the city, and it was picked up and repeated. One by one, the bells stopped ringing and the horn calls ceased. The city fell to silence, despite a sense of nervous activity that felt at odds with the quiet.

    The lead soldier said, ¡°I am Greater Marc Torrent. You wish to speak with the Duke?¡± He sounded relieved, and Dirt guessed it was because he realized they were going to be someone else¡¯s problem soon.

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°We do. What¡¯s the protocol?¡±

    ¡°Given the circumstances, I think we can dispense with protocol.¡±

    That got a chuckle out of Ignasi and a grudging smile from Dirt.

    ¡°Greater,¡± said H¨¨ctor, ¡°How are we going to reach the Duke without any more unfortunate arrows? Got any ideas?¡±

    ¡°I do. Honor guard. Oleguer, blow ¡®Honored Visitor¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Been a while since anyone heard that one, Greater. Think they¡¯ll remember it?¡± asked a raspy-voiced soldier.

    ¡°They better. Blow it, and then go find the quartermaster and get a team on putting the gate back. Get a repair time estimate to the palace as soon as possible,¡± said Greater Marc Torrent.

    ¡°Yes sir,¡± said the soldier. He blew a new sound on his horn, one that made more of a little song than the others. A fanfare, perhaps. An announcement, a welcome and happy one.

    One street over, a horn replied with a different call instead, which sounded like the tone of voice for a question. The soldier Oleguer repeated the fanfare, then once more for good measure. Everyone paused to see if the city¡¯s forces could handle such a sharp change, They could. First one horn, then several more, and then it was everywhere. Greater Marc Torrent breathed a sigh of relief so loud Dirt was sure it was meant for others to hear.

    Dirt decided he¡¯d rather sit up and watch what was going on, despite the lingering ache in his guts. He was glad he did, because no sooner did the new horn call sound than windows everywhere opened with muffled clatters and heads peeked out, wondering what was going on. Dirt waved at a young woman and got a timid wave back.

    Greater Marc Torrent said, ¡°Alright, dividing line is right here,¡± making a chopping motion with his hand to divide the dozens of soldiers into halves. ¡°This side in front, this side in back. Honor formation, parade march. You three and the, uh, giant wolf, you walk in the middle. Just walk, don¡¯t try to march.¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°I know how it works.¡±

    -I don¡¯t know how it works. What are we doing?- asked Socks.

    Greater Marc Torrent made eye contact with Socks for only the briefest instant before looking down and trying to hide his fear. ¡°How do I explain this?¡± he asked.

    Ignasi said, ¡°Come now, Greater, just because he is a vicious predator from wilds unknown does not mean he is slow to understand. Quite the opposite, you will find. It is a simple thing, noble Socks. If they march for us, then everyone will know we are important and not to be shot at.¡±

    -Then they should have done that as soon as they saw me,- said Socks. -Who decides if we are important?-

    ¡°I can, as a Greater,¡± said Greater Marc Torrent. ¡°I officially decide you are important.¡±

    Peeking heads in windows tilted, confused, and looked to other people inside their homes. Dirt smiled slightly, amused at the confusion. They were hearing Socks and didn¡¯t know where it was coming from. No doubt they¡¯d all still be trying to get the story straight long after he and Socks had left.

    Dirt asked, ¡°Is your name really Greater?¡±

    The others gave him a blank stare until H¨¨ctor figured out what Dirt meant. He said, ¡°No, Major is a title in the military. It means he commands other soldiers.¡±

    ¡°Oh. I thought he had three names like my people used to,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I thought you had two names,¡± said Marina.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s complicated. I only remember part of mine,¡± said Dirt, climbing forward on Socks¡¯ head so he could look down at her. ¡°The first name usually has a meaning, so I thought Greater was his.¡±

    ¡°Dirt means dirt, so what does¡­ the other one mean?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Grandfatherly,¡± said Dirt.

    Ignasi and H¨¨ctor grinned and met each other¡¯s gazes.

    ¡°That makes sense,¡± said H¨¨ctor, dryly.

    ¡°Indeed. Running naked in the wilderness, romping with vicious beasts? Exactly how one expects a grandfather to act,¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°The pure embodiment of grandfatherliness,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    Marina rolled her eyes, but there was a bit of humor in the edges of her lips.

    Ignasi said, ¡°Although, to be fair, none of his stories are believable or even make sense.¡±

    H¨¨ctor nodded sagely. ¡°That¡¯s true. I suppose the name is apt after all.¡±

    Dirt wished he had a joke to toss in, but he didn¡¯t know anything about grandfathers.

    Socks had one, though. He said, -Well, he does walk with a staff.- The pup must be reading their minds, which Dirt now regretted not doing.

    ¡°And he is fond of socks,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°Nice, warm, fluffy socks.¡±

    That was the joke that finally got a laugh out of Ignasi and Marina. Even Socks wagged his tail furiously with amusement. Dirt didn¡¯t get the joke, but he grinned anyway, since they were making it funny.

    The Major shifted his weight impatiently and shouted, ¡°Get in formation!¡± The soldiers¡¯ boots clacked on the paving stones as the men got into position, all in perfect rows, holding their shields and weapons in the same way to make themselves completely uniform. Since they lined up in front of and behind Socks, it was clear where the pup was meant to walk. He stood a little straighter, though, raising his head as if to strut a bit. Or maybe just give Dirt a better view.

    ¡°Are we ready?¡± asked the Major.

    -Go.- said Socks.

    The Major turned around and gave another shout that Dirt didn¡¯t think was a word. The soldiers¡¯ boots all pounded in unison to begin the march. Socks kept pace, head high as he peeked into windows and sniffed the air, and while it was fun at first being flung this way or that every time the pup turned his head, Dirt quickly decided it hurt his stomach too much and slid back down to his usual spot just behind Socks¡¯ front shoulders.

    -There are a lot more humans than I thought,-- said Socks, just to Dirt.

    ¡°Yeah. There used to be a lot more, but it¡¯s nice there are still so many,¡± said Dirt. He waved at a woman in a window holding a toddler. She waved back, and so did the little one. He tried to find the child¡¯s mind, but it was impossible to locate in the blaze of so many others, all so close.

    -Is this the kind of place you want to live when you grow up and take a mate?- asked Socks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I could. I don¡¯t want to live too far from your territory, though. Maybe I can find an old city from my people and live there. Rebuild it how it was.¡±

    -What¡¯s wrong with here?-

    Dirt thought about it, looking up and down the street at the interlinking two- and three-story buildings. Most of them were painted yellow or green with dark wood frames, and the farther into the city the marching soldiers took them, the fresher the construction got and the nicer the buildings appeared. Overall, it looked less and less like a city of his people the more time he spent here. The narrower, twisting streets, the buildings smooshed against each other. Few trees and no sculpture. Almost no decoration on the fa?ades. The roofs were all at different angles and orientations, making the whole place feel even more jumbled. Honestly, the city was a confusing mess, but aside from where he¡¯d first landed, at least it felt lived in.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Marina had been right about wearing clothes. Dirt hadn¡¯t been convinced because from what he saw in Prisca¡¯s memories, children or laborers often went naked and no one noticed or cared. But here, the only people without pants on were very small children, and most of those still had a shirt. A few shirtless men and boys in multi-colored pants stepped out to watch the parade, but not very many, and they often had a sheen of sweat and grime that made Dirt think they must have been working in the sun. And aside from men doing manual labor, the people were clean. Marina¡¯s revulsion at how dirty Dirt had been that first time seemed more justified now. Dirt had to admit that if everyone was as naked and filthy as he usually was, he might not view them the same way.

    ¡°Sorry, what did you ask me, again?¡± Dirt asked, realizing he¡¯d gotten distracted.

    -I asked you what¡¯s wrong with this place. It has plenty of humans in it, so it must be a good place for your kind.-

    ¡°Oh, nothing, really. But it¡¯s the only inhabited place we¡¯ve been. Maybe there¡¯s better. After all, these people are afraid of goblins, and that just seems embarrassing to me,¡± said Dirt. He waved at a man with long hair and a fine white shirt, decorated with ruffles. The man didn¡¯t reply, probably because he was so focused on the giant wolf he didn¡¯t notice the little boy on his back.

    -I don¡¯t like that they shot you with an arrow just for making a little light,- said Socks.

    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m going to have to be even more careful from now on, but at least now I can watch enough humans to get a better idea of what¡¯s normal. Why do you ask, anyway?¡±

    -No reason.-

    ¡°I hope it¡¯s not because you¡¯re thinking about finding somewhere to leave me. I won¡¯t let you, no matter how scary the Devourer is, so get that thought out of your head right now. I¡¯ll chase you,¡± said Dirt.

    The pup turned his head to look at him, tongue wagging. -You would never catch me.--

    ¡°Nope. But I would chase you. And get lost.¡±

    Socks sent him a puff of amusement, trying to play it off as if he¡¯d been joking, but Dirt knew better. No matter how much fun they had, the Devourer was always in the back of Socks¡¯ mind. In fact, that might be why he hadn¡¯t killed more humans on his way in¡ªhe thought this might be a safe place to leave Dirt for a couple years while he grew up.

    Dirt added, ¡°We¡¯re never splitting up until it¡¯s for happy reasons. I might not be very strong but I¡¯m still not letting you face the Devourer alone.¡±

    -I know.-

    Ahead of them, a small child ran toward the marching soldiers and had to be yanked back by its mother before it got trampled. From here, Dirt couldn¡¯t tell if it was a boy or girl, but the little creature pointed from its mother¡¯s arms and said, ¡°Puppy!¡±

    Socks noticed as well and plucked the child from its mother¡¯s arms with his mind, then brought it in to inspect it closer. It had dark, curly hair that looked more tangled than elegant and a round face with charming baby proportions. The child screamed fitfully at the sudden treatment and reached for its mother, but Socks gave it a sniff and a little lick first, then said, -It¡¯s a girl.-

    He delicately returned the toddler to her mother. Dirt tried to wave and smile to reassure her, but the woman never even looked before fleeing, screaming child clutched tightly in both arms.

    Ignasi turned back and said, ¡°Now Socks, how would your mother feel if someone picked up one of her pups without permission?¡±

    -Nothing would dare. But I see your point. Sorry,- said Socks, looking uncharacteristically abashed, if only slightly. Then he said, very loudly, --I AM NOT HERE TO HURT ANYONE SO DON¡¯T BE SCARED.-

    Several marching men slipped and nearly lost the rhythm. All up and down the street, people reacted with surprise or confusion or dread. From somewhere a few streets over, one of the little horns even blew the question sound again, which Dirt found humorous.

    ¡°That isn¡¯t helping,¡± said Marina.

    Dirt peeked down at her. ¡°Why not? That¡¯s the thing I¡¯d most want to hear, if it was me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but¡­ It¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know. I¡¯m just kidding. But how else is he supposed to talk?¡± said Dirt.

    The Major had no idea what to think of any of this and very pointedly didn¡¯t look back or say anything. From the set of his shoulders, though, Dirt knew his full attention was on the wolf and people behind him. He shouted a few commands and helped the marching soldiers get back into rhythm, and onward they continued.

    The road curved until they could see the palace in the center and as they got closer, it turned into a bridge that crossed over the river, so wide it didn¡¯t feel like a bridge at all. The riverbanks on both sides teemed with people. Women washed clothing, children swam and splashed, and so on. The river was slow moving and seemed shallow, from how far out some people were wading.

    Or at least, that¡¯s what they did until they noticed Socks. Word couldn¡¯t spread faster than they were walking, so each new person who saw them had no idea what was going on. Even with the soldiers marching and Dirt sitting up there waving at everyone who met his gaze, most people stood dumbfounded or backed up until they fell down and screamed.

    The buildings nearer the city center not only grew more ornate, but taller, too. Some were as many as four stories tall, towering over Socks. If the outsides were decorated, it was intricate carvings in wood with details too fine for Dirt to make out from the middle of the road. Street merchants hastily withdrew their carts and wagons to make room and more than once, a soldier near the front had to rush ahead to help someone get out of the way, like the skinny man with one leg or the very old woman who couldn¡¯t stand up straight.

    The plaza around the palace was still packed, so full of people that Dirt was glad for the soldiers splitting the crowd apart. Each person wore a different color and cut of cloth, it seemed, and the tumult and variety made the field of shifting humans almost impossible to take in. Their terrified reactions lessened, thankfully, by the presence of the soldiers giving the wolf a bit of legitimacy. Dirt suspected they weren¡¯t sure if Socks was a guest or a captured foe, but at least they stopped to watch instead of stepping on each other trying to run away.

    The buildings around the plaza had stately fa?ades that wouldn¡¯t have been out of place in one of Dirt¡¯s old cities, built in a neat, even circle around the center as was proper.

    The road stones here were a different sort than the earlier parts of the city. Those had been bouncy and uneven, like a bunch of river rocks laid out to make temporary paving. But all through the circular plaza, the ground was slabs of cut stone the same color as the walls.

    Even with all the color and chaos of the plaza, Dirt¡¯s eyes were drawn beyond the crowds to the palace in the center, which was much finer than he realized before. It had an unusual number of spaces for windows, which were curiously covered by a colorful, reflective material in handsome patterns. It took him a minute to realize what he was looking at, but when he did, his jaw dropped. Those windows were full of glass. It was a strange experience¡ªhe knew what glass was, now that he saw it. But that wasn¡¯t enough to explain his reaction, which must have come from a part of himself that hadn¡¯t burned away in the void. This was a completely new thing, never seen in Prisca¡¯s memory or his own instincts.

    The front of the palace was dominated by a large doorway inside a perfect, symmetrical pointed arch. The door itself was larger than any other except the gate itself and when they got close, it took two men to open, revealing a well-lit interior. The walkway to the palace¡¯s door was lined with soldiers in impressive armor that looked to be one complete suit of interlinked pieces, instead of separate parts like Dirt¡¯s people made. It covered the men inside from toes to hair, even hiding their eyes in the shadows behind the face plate.

    -Look, Dirt, it¡¯s the humans wearing metal like Mother told me about,- said Socks, wagging his tail again. -She said they are pests, and now I wonder if she meant only those ones, or all humans.-

    Dirt noticed a few heads turning and realized Socks had said that for others to hear. He replied aloud, ¡°Probably all of them, but she mentioned those ones because they¡¯re hard to chew.¡±

    Ignasi barked a laugh, then said, ¡°You can cook them in the armor, but then you have to peel them before eating, and it¡¯s a whole process. Best to just leave them alone.¡±

    The armored men remained perfectly still, but Dirt grinned to imagine their glares. He wished there weren¡¯t so many people around so he could find their minds and see their thoughts.

    A man in fine clothing, more intricate and decorated than any Dirt had ever seen or even imagined, sauntered easily from the palace door and into the sunlight. He stood with an easy grace, showing no hint of fear or even trepidation as he regarded the approaching party.

    The soldiers leading them forward parted ways, ushering Socks and the rest forward along the walkway, between the armored men.

    Marina knelt a few paces away from the well-dressed man and bowed her head. ¡°Your grace,¡± she said. Ignasi and H¨¨ctor did the same. The man held his hands forward in welcome.

    Socks stepped over them and leaned down to give the man a sniff, and to his credit, he simply tucked his hands behind his back, stood straight with head tall, and allowed it, never letting his easy smile drift from his face. -You are the father human,- said Socks.

    ¡°Indeed. I am Pere ?aburgada, Duke by right of my birth and the grace of King Alfonso,¡± said the man, his oiled hair and jeweled clothing shining in the sunlight as brightly as his dignified smile. ¡°Welcome to my capitol, Ogena, although I must admit we have lately lost contact with the rest of my territory.¡±

    -You are very brave. Every other human was afraid of me at first,- said Socks, his mental voice curious.

    ¡°I am the Duke,¡± he replied, as if that was sufficient. And somehow, it was.

    Dirt was amazed at his dignity. Socks knew the man was afraid, since he could smell it clearly, but Dirt could only tell by looking in the pup¡¯s mind. The Duke¡¯s mind was lost in the jumble of the crowd, and nothing in his bearing gave the slightest hint.

    Socks looked back at Dirt and the glance said it all. Dirt nodded. This was the man he needed to emulate if he wanted to be the best human.

    Marina said, ¡°May it please you, I am Marina Sumar, and this is H¨¨ctor de Alces and Ignasio Cervera. We¡¯ve come from Nullor to re-establish ties and save our people.¡±

    ¡°That is quite a distance,¡± said the Duke, raising his eyebrows just a hint. ¡°I welcome you and am eager to see what aid we can offer. It has been too long since those roads were travelled. And who is this?¡±

    -I am Socks,- said Socks. -I am from Father¡¯s territory.-

    Dirt jumped down and matched the man¡¯s posture, folding the Home-staff in the crook of one arm. ¡°I am Dirt. I¡¯m from¡­ a forest in a place that was once called Turicum. Now it has no name.¡±

    -We are here to help these other humans, since they were lost and we wanted to see the city,- said Socks. He turned his head to sniff one of the armored men.

    The Duke nodded and asked Dirt, ¡°Does everyone in the place once called Turicum have such a noble pet?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s my friend, but if one of us is the pet, it¡¯s me,¡± said Dirt with a slight grin.

    ¡°Of course. And a very handsome boy you are, and well-mannered. He must be proud of you. I see you have a cut on your stomach. Do you need treatment?¡±

    ¡°No, Socks already licked me,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Very well,¡± said the Duke. He smiled again, radiating nobility and effortless grace. ¡°One moment.¡± He turned to a quiet, shorter man standing right next to him and said, ¡°Clear out the main hall and bring every cushion in the palace so our big guest has somewhere to rest.¡±

    ¡°Yes, milord,¡± said the man, who darted off.

    ¡°Now, please, Marina, Ignasio, and H¨¨ctor; Socks and Dirt. Come in and rest. The palace will see to all your needs. Simply speak to any servant for whatever you require. When all has been tended, we can discuss at length,¡± said the Duke. ¡°I fear you may have to duck to get in the door, Socks, but there is room inside.¡±

    He turned and led them in.

 The Druid - Chapter 23

    The palace interior was extravagant in a way Dirt wasn¡¯t prepared for. Every surface sported bold decoration, from polished tilework floors to frescoes painted into the arched ceilings. Walls of lacquered wood gleamed with light from windows. Golden lamps, lit even during the daytime, illuminated any shadowy corner. Intricately-carved molding shining with gold leaf raced from floor to ceiling, carrying images of people and beasts and flowers.

    Dirt stopped a few paces in, having simply forgotten to keep walking, but Socks pushed him forward with his nose and followed in. The big pup had to duck down and bend his spine quite a bit to get through the doorway, but as promised, the ceilings inside were tall enough for his ears.

    The Duke led the opulence-dazed party through the entry hall and turned down a hallway to the left, so quickly it felt like Dirt had hardly had time to even understand the beauty unfolding before him. The only sound was Socks¡¯ nails clicking lightly on the hard floor as he walked. It seemed no one but Socks and the Duke even dared breathe in the presence of such extravagance.

    -It all looks very complicated. Humans build interesting things,-- said Socks, the first to speak. He sniffed a painting hanging on the wall, showing two men in armor atop horses jabbing a bull with long spears. -Look at this, Dirt. Why did they make this?-

    ¡°To look nice, I suppose,¡± said Dirt quietly. He almost felt a fool to think humans were dying out, if they were still capable of this.

    The Duke stepped over to the painting and said, ¡°This is my great-grandfather in red, and this is my grandfather in white. The painting was made to commemorate their first hunt together, when my grandfather was only fourteen. This bull had wandered into the hunting grounds and was not happy to see the hunting party. It charged, and in the foolishness of youth, my grandfather lowered his lance and charged it right back. That¡¯s why he¡¯s in front here. He didn¡¯t even lose the horse; he caught the bull in just the right part of the shoulder to turn its horns aside. It made him quite popular with everyone, except the farmer who owned the bull.¡±

    Dirt¡¯s people had had paintings, of course, although not in this style. Prisca had taken an academic interest in them at one point in her career, although she herself had moved on and forgotten much even before Dirt found her. He wished he had one of her paintings to compare this to, to see if the craft had gotten better or worse since his people¡¯s time.

    -It smells like many things, but looks like something else. Very clever,- said Socks, a bit of excited appreciation showing in his voice.

    The Duke paused and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Ah, yes, that¡¯ll be the paint. Each color is made from different materials.¡±

    -You carve wood and stone to look like people, and mix minerals and eggs and oil and wax to look like horses and bulls. Even Dirt likes to shape wood, except he uses magic he learned from the dryads,- said Socks, sniffing the next painting, then a tapestry, as he sauntered down the hall.

    ¡°I would very much like to see that,¡± said the Duke in a friendly, avuncular tone of voice, walking just ahead.

    -I will not let him show you,- said Socks.

    ¡°Why is that?¡± asked the Duke.

    -Because the last human he showed magic to shot him with an arrow.-

    The Duke showed not even the slightest dismay or offense. ¡°A perfectly reasonable caution, then. I will not ask again, until you decide to show me on your own. Now, please let me know if I can tell you about anything else. I worry that if we arrive too quickly, the servants won¡¯t have enough cushions for Socks and I will not have a guest resting on bare floor.¡±

    As if to make the point, two older youths in tight green clothing dodged through the party carrying too many cushions, even using their teeth to carry an extra one.

    ¡°They¡¯re gonna trip,¡± said Marina quietly.

    ¡°If so, they¡¯ll have a soft landing,¡± replied Ignasi, much less quietly.

    They didn¡¯t trip, so no one saw how well they¡¯d land. But a few steps past the group, one cushion slipped out of a boy¡¯s grip. The youth turned around with a pained look on his face, toeing it like he wanted to kick it back up. Socks picked it up for him with his mind, setting it neatly atop the others. The youth went a little pale, but otherwise kept his wits. He nodded, turned around, and ran to catch up with his friend.

    ¡°Who was that?¡± asked the Duke politely.

    --Me.-

    ¡°Ah, of course. Thank you for helping. He was going to drop the rest of them trying to pick that one up,¡± said the Duke. That got a chuckle out of Ignasi.

    Dirt might have asked about every painting, but he could sense the others¡¯ anxiety and eagerness to get moving, so he kept his mouth shut. Marina could hardly keep still, always shifting her weight or shuffling her feet. Her eyes passed over the glories of the palace¡¯s interior without truly seeing any of them, her mind elsewhere.

    The Duke, of course, seemed to have noticed before Dirt did, but wanted to make sure Socks and the others didn¡¯t feel rushed. He kept a careful eye on each of them, his gaze flickering at any movement to catch their body language. The man noticed Dirt watching him as well, and something in his demeanor made it feel like they were sharing a secret. Or perhaps like they were teaming up to watch the others, good-natured co-conspirators.

    A wolf could show dominance by where he stood, how he turned, and many other such subtle clues. Dirt had never realized humans were the same way, but now that he saw a leader human in action, it was as undeniable as a full moon in a clear night sky.

    When Socks had nothing else he cared to inspect, the Duke led them into the great hall, servants still rushing around them to bring in cushions. Sunlight refracted through the colored glass windows and lit the entire, cavernous space with not only beams of white, but multicolor rainbows and shadows of every hue. The room itself was far smaller than Mother¡¯s den, but that was hardly a fair comparison. It might even be the size of the main room in Prisca¡¯s schola, where¡¯d she¡¯d kept him in the dark after catching him.

    On the right side of the room, against a long wall decorated with drapes and tapestries, a pile of cushions grew, one armful at a time. It was already big enough to accommodate Socks, but the servants kept finding more somewhere, leaving Dirt to wonder what else was in the palace. Just lots of bedrooms for all the visitors?

    A long table of dark wood sat under the windows on the other side of the room, clattering as servants brought plates and knives and other dishes to fill it for a meal.

    Socks wagged his tail and pushed past the others to make his way over to the cushions. A servant boy yelped and jumped out of the way, missing the pile with his thrown cushions, then scrambled out a small nearby door. Socks sniffed at the pile, whole body exuding eagerness. After pacing right and left a bit to consider his angles, he put up a mental wall of force to hold them all in place, then stepped over it and settled in, shimmying his long torso to even out his bed. Once everything was in place, he released the mental wall. Most of the cushions stayed put.

    Dirt had never seen him look so comfortable and ran over to pet him on the snout. Socks raised his nose and gave Dirt a little lick, then rested again with plain contentment.

    The Duke rested his hand on Dirt¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°Help me, little Dirt. What do I offer such a guest? Would he like a basin of water to sip, or does he drink wine or beer? We have some pigs roasting since this morning, but I am sure it will not be enough.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a good idea. Just the water. He, um¡­¡± Dirt gripped the Home-staff, debating making the water himself. ¡°If it¡¯s not too heavy.¡±

    ¡°Of course it¡¯s not too heavy. It will simply take several trips. Water will be brought,¡± said the Duke, not to anyone in particular. Dirt noticed, however, that more than one of the servants in earshot nodded slightly and left.

    -There is a man over there touching his sword and looking at Dirt. He¡¯d better stop doing that,- said Socks.

    ¡°There is nothing to fear, good wolf. The soldiers mean only to guard me, just as you guard your own. Think nothing of it,¡± said the Duke.

    -He was thinking about whether he would want to cut down Dirt before H¨¨ctor or Ignasi.-

    ¡°Yes, and that is well. He must plan for danger if he is to protect me. Just as you do, watching carefully for any threat and considering how you might react. But if you watch him a little more, you will see he has no desire for violence and prays it will not happen,¡± said the Duke, not backing down in the slightest. There was no challenge in his voice, however; just explanation.

    Socks huffed and peered around the room again, then gave the Duke a short, surprised glance. Then he was satisfied, relaxing more fully.

    ¡°Come, H¨¨ctor, Ignasi, Marina. Have a seat at my table and wet your throats. The meal will be a while yet, but a bit of fruit and wine will ease our conversation. My wife and children will be here shortly, and we want to hear everything. And come, Dirt. You can sit right next to me where Socks can keep an eye on you,¡± said the Duke.

    ¡°You have children?¡± asked Dirt, following. The nervousness he¡¯d felt when he first tried to meet Marina and the others suddenly came back.

    ¡°I do. I have a son who just turned nine and a daughter who is twelve. My two-year-old is napping, so we won¡¯t see her for a while. She slept right through all the excitement and I hope she keeps doing it,¡± said the Duke. A servant pulled out a chair near the head of the table and Dirt took a seat. The Duke then stood in front of the larger of the two chairs at the head of the table, and a servant pushed the chair in under him. The Duke sat with impressive grace, making something that should have been awkward look effortless.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Ignasi wasted no time pouring himself a glass of wine, then sipping it with a contented sigh. ¡°You are right, your grace. This will certainly loosen our tongues. I¡¯d better occupy mine, lest I start talking before the Lady Duchess and your children get here.¡± He grabbed a piece of something Dirt felt he should recognize and took a bite.

    Dirt sniffed the containers of drink on the table and settled on the water, since everything else smelled rotten. He poured himself a glass, then followed Ignasi¡¯s lead in taking a piece of fruit. It had yellowing, white flesh with a red peel and smelled impossibly sweet. He bit it in half and chewed twice before exclaiming, ¡°Apple! It¡¯s an apple!¡±

    He looked around excitedly. Marina, Ignasi, and H¨¨ctor all gave him knowing smiles, but the Duke looked like he was missing the joke. Dirt said, ¡°I¡¯ve never had one. I¡¯ve never even seen one before. I forgot all about them!¡±

    Socks reached out and Dirt shared his sense of taste, finishing off the other bite of apple slowly, letting the juices squeeze out with gentle bites and linger in his mouth.

    ¡°What is this one? Is that a plum?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Marina. ¡°That¡¯s a cherry. Where did you get the apples so early in the season?¡±

    ¡°I have one tree that produces early apples, and the cherries have been storing nicely in the cellar,¡± said the Duke, watching Dirt with increasing curiosity.

    Dirt picked up the cherry and bit it in half. Or tried, anyway. It had a hard stone in the middle he wasn¡¯t expecting, and it made his jaw pop open by reflex. That resulted in dripping bright red juice all down his bare chest, but he caught the drop that would have landed on his pants. Good thing he hadn¡¯t had a nice clean shirt to put on, or he might have ruined two in one day. ¡°I forgot that was in there,¡± he said, licking his palm. He wiped some of the juice off his chest, and licked that too. ¡°Are you supposed to eat the hard thing? No, right? You¡¯re not supposed to. It¡¯s a cherry.¡±

    ¡°Have you never had a cherry?¡± asked the Duke.

    ¡°Nope, no fruit at all,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I¡¯ve never even seen any before today. But I think I remember it now.¡±

    ¡°You say the strangest things, lad,¡± said the Duke.

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°You have no idea, your grace. He has not even begun to say strange things.¡±

    Dirt smiled and reached for another slice of apple. ¡°I¡¯m normal. I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    Ignasi snorted and Marina smiled down at the table.

    They waited for only a short time before the Duke¡¯s mate arrived. A man opened a door at the back of the room and said, ¡°The Duchess Teresa.¡±

    Everyone stood, which surprised Dirt, but he slid out of the chair to his feet in a hurry to match them. The Duke looked over to Socks and said, ¡°Stay resting, friend. You look too comfortable to bother.¡±

    --I will. I am,-- replied Socks, sounding happy.

    A woman walked into the room dressed even more finely than the Duke, in a dress that spread out around her legs like a circular tent. The cloth she wore had a reflective sheen and countless precious stones sewn along the seams or decorative embroidery. Her hair bounced inside a gentle net of silver threads and a necklace with a red stone in a golden setting rested between her breasts.

    She strode with the same easy grace as the Duke, at once powerful and relaxed, except that her movements were unmistakably feminine in a way his weren¡¯t. She walked with head high and shoulders back, just like he did; but when she walked, she glided, arms light around her waist like drifting feathers. Dirt was almost startled to see such a contrast, which was hardly noticeable between H¨¨ctor and Marina. Maybe Marina just needed some time back in civilization.

    Behind her came two children, both with the same dark hair and eyes that most people in the city had. First was a girl shorter than her mother wearing a dress of similar color who edged farther and farther from Socks as she followed, her face stony instead of smiling. She held the hand of the second child, a boy just a bit taller than Dirt who was all but hiding behind her. They walked like their parents did, if less convincingly, imitating the style but not the substance. For one, it didn¡¯t help that the boy couldn¡¯t keep the trepidation off his face as he made sure his sister was between him and the wolf at all times.

    ¡°Duchess,¡± said Marina, Ignasi, and H¨¨ctor, each bowing. Seeing how it was done, Dirt did the same.

    She had a pleasant voice, if not loud or particularly musical like the Duke¡¯s. She said, ¡°Welcome to our home. Please do not hide behind manners if there is anything we can do to make you more comfortable. Speak.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, your grace, we will,¡± said Marina, trying to return the same charming, noble smile she¡¯d been given.

    -Hello, Duchess,- said Socks. He kept his head resting on the pillows, but his eyes were lively as they darted around the room. -Do humans always show strangers their brood?-

    The poor woman paled, her smile faltering but not vanishing.

    The Duke said, ¡°Just speak aloud, as with anyone else.¡±

    She nodded, regaining her perfect composure. She didn¡¯t step an inch closer to the pup, though. ¡°It is good manners to show the family to guests in one¡¯s home. And why should I not, when I am so proud of them? Everyone, this beauty is our daughter ¨¨lia, and the timid little man here is M¨¤xim. He¡¯s usually a bit bolder, but, well, I¡¯m sure you understand.¡±

    -I understand,- said Socks, even though the Duchess had been speaking to everyone. -When I first met Dirt, I didn¡¯t know what he was, so I snuck up to sniff him. When he saw me, I was already right there, and he was too scared to even scream. He was so scared he peed. I thought he was going to die of being too scared, like a mouse. But he had just been chased around by a goblin, so he was already in a scared mood. He didn¡¯t run, though. He stayed and talked to me. Ignasi and Marina and H¨¨ctor all ran away screaming.-

    Ignasi grinning. ¡°To be fair, friend, you did growl. Anyone who hears that and doesn¡¯t run is a fool.¡±

    -You wanted to run before I growled, though.-

    ¡°Yes, I did. And the next time I saw you, and the third. Anyone who sees cute little Socks here and does not run away screaming and pissing himself is already doing better than average,¡± said Ignasi. ¡°Although his wisdom may still be a topic for debate.¡±

    The Duke smiled like they were old friends. ¡°Cute and little are not words I would use for him.¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°You would if you saw his parents. Mother and Father are way, way bigger than he is. He¡¯s still just a puppy.¡±

    ¡°How much bigger?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s hard to say exactly. But they could step over the wall without touching it, easy,¡± said Dirt. He looked at the two children, who shot him glances every so often but kept their eyes focused on the wolf, and said, ¡°Do you want to come pet him?¡±

    Both children froze, even holding their breath. The boy slid a little further behind his sister. All the joy went out of the parents¡¯ faces, even though they kept their smiles plastered on.

    Ignasi said, ¡°Maybe move a little slower there, Dirt. They¡¯re still debating running away pissing themselves like sane and reasonable people.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Sorry,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Nothing to be sorry for, lad,¡± said the Duke. ¡°I¡¯m sure my dear M¨¤xim will be happy to play with you once he¡¯s had a moment to settle in first. He and ¨¨lia just arrived, after all. Please, everyone have a seat. Now that my wife is here, I¡¯d like to hear what brought you all the way from Nullor to Ogena.¡±

    At that cue, everyone took their seats again. The Duke and Duchess sat at the head of the table, and the children sat farther down the table, separated by two empty chairs. M¨¤xim met Dirt¡¯s gaze and gave him a little wave, which Dirt returned. Dirt decided children weren¡¯t typically seated by the adults, but he probably shouldn¡¯t move from the spot the Duke had placed him. He and M¨¤xim would have a chance to talk soon.

    ¡°Where do we start?¡± said Marina.

    ¡°With the famine,¡± said Ignasi.

    ¡°Right,¡± she said. She took a deep breath and shifted her wine cup a bit on the table, then picked up a piece of apple and put it back down. ¡°Sorry, just, I¡¯ve been thinking about this for a long time.¡±

    The Duchess reached over and put her hand atop Marina¡¯s and said, ¡°Don¡¯t fret, dear. It might be your first time meeting royalty, but we see commoners every day. I know it¡¯s difficult and I know you¡¯ll do just fine.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, your grace,¡± said Marina. After one more deep breath she began, ¡°Two years ago, a hailstorm took out half the grain in Nullor¡¯s fields. The year before that, during the night, something crashed through some of our best orchards and broke nine trees. The year before that, something stole a chicken every night for a good portion of the summer. We think it was a gnome. Each year, it¡¯s something. A storm, or the wilds encroach, or a farmer breaks a leg, or something. And each year, our stores of food get just a bit smaller, each spring just a little hungrier. Well, each thing that happens, you can fix, right? You can get new fruit trees and laying hens. But it adds up. When Pol broke his leg, his wife and children could only farm about two thirds as much that year, and instead of a surplus to sell, they had to borrow. It¡¯s a hundred little things and they add up.¡±

    She paused and took a sip of wine. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m not getting to the point, am I? Nullor wasn¡¯t supposed to be a frontier city. Our band made it all the way there with no trouble, twenty years ago. But shortly after we got there, they lost contact with Alpica, and we didn¡¯t hear from Seramenat for five straight years. Fifteen years ago, we stopped hearing from Llovella entirely, even though it was too big and prosperous to just disappear. You probably know all about this, since I bet it¡¯s not just happening to us. All this is your territory, after all. Sorry, I¡¯m wasting your time.¡±

    ¡°You are not wasting our time, Marina. You have hardly even begun,¡± said the Duke, gently. ¡°Please continue.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just really nervous. Pardon me,¡± said Marina.

    ¡°Really puts the Duke¡¯s boldness in front of Socks in perspective, doesn¡¯t it, Marina? He hardly seems affected,¡± said Ignasi. ¡°Or the Duchess, for that matter.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tease her, Ignasi,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°But I have nothing else to contribute!¡± said Ignasi.

    She glared at Ignasi before cracking a smile. ¡°You ass,¡± she said. ¡°My apologies, Duchess, don¡¯t let my coarse speech offend your grace. I¡¯ll continue or Ignasi won¡¯t stop. I told the Major that I¡¯m from Ogena, one of your own people from your capitol. And it¡¯s true, I was born here. I left with Oriol¡¯s band when I was just a girl, hardly older than ¨¨lia. My parents were dreamers until the day they died, always thinking of adventure and new glories. Nullor wasn¡¯t supposed to be frontier then, like I said, but when we got there, it was. We settled in and became like everyone else, but I still remember the milk I was raised on. I know it¡¯s na?ve, but I still think there are good things on the frontier. There are, at least, a few good people left.¡±

    ¡°I have never doubted the goodness of my people, or their courage,¡± said the Duke. ¡°I have seen enough for them to earn my respect and service.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, your grace,¡± said Marina. ¡°You see, I think we have a deeper problem than just dwindling food. When I think about the old stories, about King Raimon who founded the First Kingdom of the Camayans, it¡¯s not a story about being careful and prudent. He was bold and used whatever force it took to get the job done. But that¡¯s not how we act anymore. We¡¯re too scared and too beaten down to make a lasting fix. Nobody cuts back the forests and starts a new field, right on the edge, anymore. But everyone will abandon the far fields if they become too unsafe. Short-term fixes. We¡¯ll try to chase out the gnome, but no one¡¯s going into the mountains to look for the rest to eradicate them.¡±

    She paused and took another deep breath. Dirt had thought she was easing up the more she spoke, but apparently not. ¡°The famine. Back to the famine. We lost ten adults to starvation that winter. Not so many the town is about to disappear. It¡¯s still there, doing fine. Losing children is one thing, but losing ten adults? That¡¯s a lot of work no longer getting done.

    ¡°And here¡¯s the point. This is what I thought about all winter, and all spring, and every day until I convinced these two fools to come with me. So what if no one¡¯s come on those roads for years? If anyone had been brave enough to take a wagon and reopen the road, they might have come back with grain, and those people might have survived. But they didn¡¯t. They were willing to lose some rather than risk losing more to preserve it. And that¡¯s the problem with us, my Lord and Lady. It¡¯s the whole people. It¡¯s the entire Three Kingdoms. We¡¯ve been hit so many times we¡¯re too afraid to fight back.

    ¡°And that¡¯s why we¡¯re here. Like I said, I never forgot the milk I was raised on. We started out with a cart and two horses and each mile we ran into new trouble. But when we set out, we did so to get here or die, and we made it. We walked into this city with nothing but our clothing, but we made it. All three of us know the entire road now, and we know what to expect. We can get back,¡± said Marina. At this she paused again, letting silence rule the room.

    Everyone could feel that she had more to share, just a bit more, and she seemed to be struggling to put it into words. She sat rigid, hands folded in front of her as she anxiously ground her fingers against each other to help her mind work. Finally she said, ¡°The wilds were hard. Worse than we imagined. We almost died more than once. But I just had that hope, and we kept going. And we made it. And along the way¡­ well, I don¡¯t know how to explain it, and I don¡¯t know what it means. But not everything in the wilds wanted to kill us. We found Dirt.¡±

 The Druid - Chapter 24

    Everyone turned to look at Dirt, who wasn¡¯t sure what he was supposed to do. Look at all of them in turn? Look away?

    Marina said, ¡°Dirt is¡­ Where do I even start? Do I skip to the trees?¡±

    Ignasi said, ¡°No, Marina, you will make it too complicated. Let me put it this way: See him sitting there, handsome and mild? He is an honest, friendly little boy, deserving of all affection. And yet, all the most terrifying moments in my life have involved him in some way.¡±

    H¨¨ctor snickered. ¡°That¡¯s a good way to put it.¡±

    ¡°What are some of these terrifying moments?¡± asked the Duke, leaning forward very slightly.

    ¡°Well,¡± said H¨¨ctor, ¡°there¡¯s the giant wolf. But you knew that already. So how about the time he talked the gryphon into not eating us?¡±

    ¡°I will never forget the ghosts, personally, no matter how hard I try,¡± said Ignasi, taking another drink of his wine.

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°Or the time he killed goblins with that stick and the thing he was worried about was getting blood on his pants.¡±

    -He is a human, though,- said Socks, sounding a bit protective. -And not anything else. You are making it sound like he isn¡¯t one again. He is human.-

    ¡°And you¡¯ll never catch me saying otherwise,¡± said H¨¨ctor with a hint of a grin.

    ¡°He¡¯s quite a child,¡± said Marina. ¡°Dirt can talk your ears off telling you his stories, and you should let him. But what we came to ask you for, my Lord, was for your help reopening the roads. And believe me, we know better than anyone what that means. Not just patrols. It means workmen to keep them in good repair. It means reclaiming Llovella. Now, I know you have a good reason for not doing it yet, after all this time. But we¡¯re here to tell you it¡¯s possible. Me and H¨¨ctor and Ignasi were willing to die to prove it. The frontier might be at your doorstep, your Grace, but we¡¯re here to tell you it¡¯s time to push it back.¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°We thought we¡¯d be sitting here with a wagon full of goods to make a better case. After we lost the wagon, we thought we¡¯d be showing you packs full of goods. Then we lost the packs. But we made it. It¡¯s possible. I¡¯m going to be honest, though. It¡¯s not a safe road. We almost got killed more times than I can count. I can¡¯t promise everyone you send is going to survive. But what I can promise you, is that if we don¡¯t do it, if we don¡¯t take the risk, then we¡¯re going to die. All of us. Every last human. I can feel it, your Grace. We all can. Marina¡¯s upset everyone¡¯s being cautious but that¡¯s not quite it. I think everyone knows the end is coming and we¡¯re trying to hide from it.¡±

    An uncomfortable silence followed. The children shifted in their chairs and the Duchess¡¯ folded hands tightened subconsciously. The Duke furrowed his brow and scratched his cheek, unable to give a quick response.

    A servant stepped in quietly and set a large cooked bird, plucked and still steaming, in front of the Duke. Shortly after, another brought out a bowl of steaming vegetables, and another brought two loaves of bread. They didn¡¯t stop there, and soon the table was covered in more food than Dirt had seen in his life, all of it steaming and aromatic, with too many smells for him to tell apart. In the center of it all were two fat pigs, all carved up and ready to eat except the faces. They were enormous, possibly weighing as much as Dirt did, and had to be carried by two people.

    The Duke flicked a finger to summon a servant and said, ¡°How many pigs do we still have cooking? Any more, or just these two?¡±

    ¡°Two more, my Lord,¡± whispered the servant. They all wore the same clothing, which was making it hard for Dirt to tell them apart.

    ¡°Are they done cooking?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°Good. Take these two over to our largest guest, and bring out the other two for him as well. Socks, I apologize if this is not enough to fill your stomach, but we were not expecting you,¡± said the Duke.

    -It is fine. I want to taste the pigs,- said Socks, lifting his head. A bit of drool dripped from his lips and darkened a pillow. -Four of those will be a good meal, and if I am still hungry, Dirt can give me sap later.-

    Before the servants had a chance to carry the pigs from the table over to Socks, the pup lifted the platters with his mind and carefully brought them over by himself, taking great care not to spill anything off the sides.

    Seeing the pigs floating across the room was enough to get everyone but the Duke to stare in shock. Even the Duchess¡¯ jaw dropped, and M¨¤xim stood up on his chair to get a better look, unable to believe what he was seeing.

    Socks shifted around on his pillows so he could sit up, then tilted the first platter right into his mouth, shaking it to get it all. Most of the bones had been removed, it turned out, but the head was still crunchy and he chewed it a couple times before swallowing.

    The Duke nodded, then cut a slice of roast bird and set it on his mate¡¯s plate. ¡°My Lady,¡± he said politely. Then he cut a piece for himself and set the knife and fork back on the platter, gesturing for Dirt to cut himself some.

    Marina, the two men, and Dirt wasted no time filling their plates, but the others couldn¡¯t stop staring at Socks. The pup ate the second pig in sections to draw out his enjoyment of it, and when it was gone, he watched the door eagerly for the next two.

    ¡°Tell me, Dirt,¡± said the Duke, raising a bite of bird with his fork, ¡°How are you involved in this? What is your place with them?¡±

    ¡°Oh, they¡¯re¡­ some friends,¡± said Dirt, trying not to be too obvious about peeking at them from the corner of his eye to see if they objected. They didn¡¯t. ¡°I haven¡¯t traveled with them for very long, but it looked like they could use some help, and I wanted to meet some humans. They taught me their language and lots of other things.¡±

    ¡°I knew I heard an accent in your voice. What language do you speak, aside from ours?¡± asked the Duke.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s called, but it sounds like this. Hello, my name is Dirt, and I am talking in my own language right now,¡± he said.

    The Duke sat up in his chair. ¡°No!¡± he exclaimed.

    ¡°What?¡± asked Dirt, shrinking back in his seat.

    ¡°The language of records. That was the tongue of the ancients! To think there are still some who speak it, out there somewhere beyond my borders,¡± said the Duke. His eyes took on an excited gleam that replaced his carefully dignified demeanor.

    ¡°Well, just me, probably. But you can still find old ruins with our writing on them,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Say something else, so I can be sure. I want to hear more,¡± said the Duke.

    ¡°In a sea of delightful wine, a mouse may only die,¡± said Dirt, sharing a popular tongue twister. Then another, ¡°Although they are under the water, they try to curse under the water.¡±

    ¡°See if you can translate this. If you can, then I will know for sure. Boy, meat, you want, good boy!¡± said the Duke, more excited each moment.

    ¡°That means, ¡®boy, meat, you want, good boy,¡¯¡± said Dirt. He sank further in his chair, knowing why the Duke asked. ¡°They also know ¡®come out,¡¯ I think.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    The Duke had no blame to lay on him, however; instead, the man grew more excited than ever. ¡°Your name means ¡®dirt,¡¯ doesn¡¯t it? What does the wolf¡¯s name mean?¡±

    ¡°Yep, it means dirt. And his name means socks, like you wear on your feet,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Marvellous!¡± cried the Duke. ¡°This is a day of days. Tell me, Dirt, please¡ªyou must know, why do the goblins speak the ancient tongue?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea. When I first met one, I didn¡¯t know there were other languages in the first place. It took me a while to realize,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Ah, a shame, a shame. Do you know much of the ancient people? Does any of their lore survive among your kin?¡±

    ¡°I think I said already, but I don¡¯t have any kin. These are the first humans I ever saw. But I know a little about the Sunset Empire. What sort of thing?¡±

    The Duke had yet to take a single bite. He still held the chunk of meat on his fork and waved it around to gesture with. ¡°Anything! Wait. Tell me this, first. How were you raised without any parents?¡±

    ¡°I just woke up in the forest one day. I met Socks, and then¡­ I learned how to talk to the trees and made friends with them too,¡± said Dirt. He took another bite and only then realized that it was even better than the cow meat from the other night. The bird was tender and bursting with flavor, herbs and salt and a hint of sweetness. He¡¯d been so distracted by the conversation he hadn¡¯t tasted his previous bites.

    ¡°And the forest was in a place once called Turicum? I thought I recognized that name. Can you answer this? Did the Sunset Empire ever truly exist?¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°I¡¯m certain it did.¡±

    The Duke clapped his hands and said, ¡°This is incredible, truly. Scholars have been arguing for centuries whether the empire was a fanciful legend or the truth. We have so little from those days, and the things those writings tell us! I was one of those who never believed. I only learned the language to read the old records. Have you ever seen any of their writing?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve seen some,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Not a whole lot, but I read the sign on a tomb once. It was in an old ruined city called Ocriculum.¡±

    ¡°Do you remember what it said?¡±

    ¡°Sort of. Do you want me to say it as written, or translate it?¡±

    ¡°Both,¡± said the Duke.

    ¡°I think it was something like, ¡®O Shepherd of the Dead, Here lies Callius Something Something. He was a magistrate and he was sixty-six years old when he died. His heir closed this door,¡¯¡± said Dirt in their language. Then he translated and said it again in his.

    ¡°Marvellous! We only have the names of a few of their gods, and that is one. Now it is certain,¡± said the Duke.

    The rear door opened again, and four servants entered carrying two more pigs. Amusingly, they only dared get close enough to Socks to set them just out of his reach before they scampered away, and the pup had to slide them into range with his mind.

    After watching to make sure the pup got the rest of his dinner, the Duke said, ¡°If I bring you some texts, would you read them?¡±

    ¡°My Lord,¡± said the Duchess, ¡°Let the poor boy eat. How often do you think he¡¯ll see a Duke¡¯s table, and here you are interrogating him.¡±

    The Duke paused, then visibly schooled himself into calming down. His countenance smoothed from uninhibited eagerness into convincingly sincere affection ¡°Of course you¡¯re right, my Lady. Later, I will insist he tell me everything. But I am being an ungracious host. After our meal, we can speak more about these plans to reopen the roads. I fear it will be harder than you all realize, but I will not refuse you so quickly, when you¡¯ve brought me such a treasure. Shall we have some music?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± said Dirt immediately. ¡°Please? Who will sing? I can, but I only know one song.¡±

    ¡°No one, darling boy,¡± said the Duchess. She gestured to a servant, who knew what she wanted because he¡¯d been listening. He hurried out of the room, leaving everyone munching on their meal and watching the door in anticipation. When he returned, he led a group of four musicians with different instruments to a corner of the room. One had a flute, but the other three had stringed instruments Dirt didn¡¯t recognize. They weren¡¯t lyres.

    The music they played was lively and complicated, allowing each musician to demonstrate their skill. Dirt gave up trying to follow the melodies and simply let the music carry him into a happy reverie, eating food that was more delicious than he¡¯d imagined possible. The others talked, but their words passed over him without leaving much effect. He smiled when he heard laughter, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

    Until he saw Socks sit up and peer around, having noticed something odd. -What do you think that is?-- said Socks. No one else reacted, though, so the pup was only speaking to him. Socks sent him an image of mind-sight, showing a dim and misshapen mind through which passed periodic images of roofs and buildings and not much else.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Do you want to see where it is?¡± replied Dirt.

    -Let¡¯s,-- said Socks, and their minds slid together. Socks and Dirt looked at the minds nearby, pleased they could tell them apart much easier now. Well, the boy¡¯s mind could, anyway; the wolf hadn¡¯t had any trouble in the first place. But now there was no doubt which mind belonged to whom, since they could place them. That was the Duke, and behind him, a servant, and another, and then the musicians over there, and behind the door, two more servants hurrying down a corridor.

    The minds of the city came into clarity and were no longer a field of indistinguishable lights, but instead, a sky full of stars, each one fixed in space. And far above them, surprisingly, the misshapen-half mind hovered on the drifting currents of high breezes, gazing downward.

    -¡°What is that?¡±-

    -¡°We still can¡¯t tell. Does it look like something only half-alive, like the tentacle beast?¡±-

    -¡°It does, but it is not the same.¡±-

    -¡°Is it a threat? Do we need to go catch it?¡±-

    -¡°Maybe. How are we to know?¡±-

    -¡°We should go look at it.¡±-

    -¡°Let us send the boy, then. The wolf doesn¡¯t fit through the doors.¡±-

    Socks and Dirt had the boy stand up, pushing his chair back, and say, ¡°We¡¯ll be right back. We need to check something.¡±

    They hoped the boy didn¡¯t sound too odd, since they¡¯d never tried interacting during a mind meld before. The wolf closed his eyes while the boy sprinted from the room, leaving a chorus of surprised comments behind him.

    The boy raced down the ornate hall and turned down the entryway. They pushed the door open, careful not to slam it, and stepped outside. The soldiers in metal remained, still standing guard, and now Socks and Dirt could see each of their minds distinctly enough to know they wondered what he was doing out here alone, even though they didn¡¯t speak or even turn to face him.

    ¡°We¡¯re just checking something,¡± Socks and Dirt had the boy say.

    The wolf lifted another bite of pig into his mouth, letting its savory richness linger on the wolf¡¯s tongue so they could enjoy it. Dirt and Socks said, -¡°That really is good. We think it¡¯s better than the chicken.¡±-

    Meanwhile, the boy gazed up into the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. There was nothing in the sky, at least nothing close enough to see.

    Dirt and Socks had the boy turn to a soldier and say, ¡°Do you see anything up there? In the sky? Can you help us look?¡±

    The soldier didn¡¯t reply, nor did he look up into the sky. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, keeping vigilant watch for any approaching danger.

    Socks and Dirt sighed and kept watching. They might be imagining it, but there was a shimmer in the blue, a flaw like ripples of heat in the distance. As they watched, it circled in gentle arcs but no form appeared and it might have been nothing, or the result of staring into the sky with the boy¡¯s human eyes. No birds or other flying creatures to see, just the ripple in the sky. Whatever it was, its mind took note of buildings and people, but only in a flashing, disjointed way, as if the greater part of its thinking was happening elsewhere.

    -¡°We don¡¯t know what it is, but we don¡¯t like it.¡±-

    -¡°No, we don¡¯t. It seems wrong.¡±-

    ¡°Dirt?¡± said a timid ¨¨lia, the Duke¡¯s daughter. She¡¯d come out to get the boy and the wolf hadn¡¯t noticed.

    ¡°Oh, yes, we¡¯re fine,¡± they had the boy say. ¡°Do you see that up there? That shimmer? The ripple in the sky?¡±

    ¨¨lia stepped the rest of the way out the door and M¨¤xim followed close behind her. She asked, ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay? Do you want to come sit back down?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re fine, we promise. But please, can you look? Do you see that? Either of you?¡± said the boy, pointing up at the sky. The two children stepped into the sunlight and gazed upward.

    ¡°That wave?¡± asked M¨¤xim.

    ¡°Yes. Good, you do see it. We are wondering what it is. Do you know?¡±

    The misshapen mind spotted them down there, three children staring up at it from the ground. An instant later, it vanished completely. No mind in Dirt and Socks¡¯ mental sight, no tiny ripple to see in the sky.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see it anymore,¡± said M¨¤xim.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t see it,¡± said ¨¨lia.

    ¡°It¡¯s gone now,¡± said Socks and Dirt, using the boy.

    Ignasi stepped out the doorway. ¡°Dirt?¡± he said.

    Socks and Dirt sighed to themself, then severed the mind meld since their prey was gone anyway.

    ¡°Sorry, did I make you worry?¡± asked Dirt sheepishly. ¡°I¡¯m coming back in now. I just had to check something.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t seem yourself for a moment there. Are you well?¡± asked Ignasi.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Let¡¯s head back in so I only have to explain once,¡± said Dirt.

    M¨¤xim and ¨¨lia gave him looks of mild concern, then beckoned him to follow. Dirt wished he could still see their minds, but his mind sight revealed only a glowing haze of white with almost no distinction, just like before. He resolved to get some serious practice at that, because losing his mind sight any time he was in a city would be a serious handicap.

    The children led him and Ignasi back down the entryway, along the hallway, and back into the large, glass-lit room. The Duke stood when they entered, but it seemed more to get a good look than because he was supposed to. ¡°Is he alright?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t that weird, was it?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°You were a completely different person. I can¡¯t explain it,¡± said Marina.

    ¡°It was that weird,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°Sorry. I had to check because there was something in the sky. M¨¤xim saw it too, but it¡¯s gone now,¡± said Dirt, timidly making his way back to his seat.

    ¡°What was in the sky?¡± asked the Duke. ¡°And how did you know it was there, if you¡¯re inside?¡±

    Before Dirt could answer, a note rang out in the distance. A horn, blowing an alarm.

 The Druid - Chapter 25

    The room went silent, the Duke¡¯s family growing pale and fearful and the man himself biting back annoyance to maintain his dignified demeanor. A moment later, a second alarm sounded from outside, only faintly audible through the sunlit windows.

    ¡°An army,¡± muttered the Duke. ¡°My guests, I regret that my company will shortly be required elsewhere. For the second time in one day, I may be called out to oversee a battle. You don¡¯t happen to know anything about that, do you?¡±

    -We do not have any armies. What is it an army of?- asked Socks.

    ¡°Goblins, I would say; I might be more certain had our first little invasion not been a harmless boy and a giant wolf. They have been an unreasonable nuisance the last few years.¡±

    -Will the men in metal armor fight them?- asked Socks, perking up. -Will they ride horses like in the painting?-

    ¡°Socks,¡± said Ignasi, ¡°I bet if you go put the gate back up where you found it, we can talk him into sending some men with horses and armor.¡±

    Socks looked over at the Duke, ears perked up in eagerness.

    ¡°We¡¯ll help fight them, too,¡± said Dirt, in case this was something the Duke needed convinced about.

    -No, Dirt will not help fight unless he is needed. He will scare the other humans. But I¡¯ll help kill the goblins if the men in armor come along,- said Socks.

    The Duke needed very little time to think and soon turned to one of his servants, a fidgety man who seemed anxious for everyone to get moving, and said, ¡°Go tell the quartermaster to get enough workmen to reattach the gate. I want them there immediately with tools and supplies. And you, Miquel, go tell Ramon that the Palace Guard will be attending me in person, in full strength. I want my horse and armor. Run, before my city is plundered.¡±

    The two men left at full sprints, leaving through different doors and not even closing them behind themselves.

    Socks stood, wagging his tail eagerly. -Will you fight too, since you are the father human?-

    The Duke said, ¡°If a hundred men are sent, the hundred-and-first will add very little. Whether I fight will depend on how badly I am needed.¡±

    -My Father would be worth more than a hundred of me,- said Socks.

    ¡°My Lord,¡± said the Duchess, resting her fingers on his arm, then rising from her chair gracefully and sweeping herself into his arms for a hug. ¡°Take no risks. Come back in one piece.¡±

    He kissed her hair and said, ¡°As you command, my Lady.¡± Dirt felt a puff of affection between them despite the interference of too many local minds.

    The Duke¡¯s two children approached on timid feet. He grinned and gripped them both on the shoulder and gave them a quick hug at the same time. ¡°No need to fret just yet. It is surely not that serious.¡±

    Dirt suspected that the reason the Duke mentioned the severity of the threat at all was because he suspected otherwise. ¡°I¡¯ll go with him. Socks probably won¡¯t let me charge in by myself anyway while he¡¯s holding the gate up. He¡¯ll be safe.¡±

    The Duke smiled in a way that Dirt found somewhat condescending. ¡°I appreciate that, little Dirt, but a battle is no place for children. I will want a stronger guard around me.¡±

    H¨¨ctor said, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t underestimate the boy, your Grace. You may be glad to have him. He¡¯s plenty capable.¡±

    -As far as I can tell, he is the only strong human at all,- said Socks. --If he is not with you, then he will be with me.-

    ¡°I cannot have an unarmored boy at my side in the middle of a battle,¡± said the Duke with finality.

    ¡°Dirt, why don¡¯t you jump up there and touch the ceiling?¡± said Ignasi with a sparkle in his eye.

    The room went silent, with even the unnoticed servants freezing in their tracks and slyly turning to watch. Dirt remained still, though, unsure if he should do it. Humans didn¡¯t seem to like that sort of thing, and Socks had told him not to.

    Into the silence, Ignasi said, ¡°What, you thought a boy with a friend like Socks would be otherwise ordinary? Is there anything about those two that strikes you as ordinary? Anything at all?¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Ignasi, but it¡¯s okay. I¡¯ll just go with Socks. Nothing will get past us anyway. But my Lord the Duke, your Grace, please don¡¯t have anyone shoot me with an arrow if I do something surprising. Once is enough for one day,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°You only need to say one title at a time,¡± muttered Marina.

    He took his little backpack off and set it on his chair. ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t have to put any of that food away yet. We¡¯ll be right back,¡± he told a servant.

    ¡°How long do you think this will take?¡± asked the Duke, showing a bit of indignation for the first time. ¡°We are under attack!¡±

    ¡°How long do you think this will take?¡± replied Dirt coolly. ¡°Come on, Socks. Let¡¯s hurry.¡±

    -We will meet you there. They are getting in already. Remember to come with your armored men so I can watch them fight,- Socks told the Duke.

    Dirt started walking across the room to go back out, but the Duke said, ¡°Wait!¡±

    He and Socks stopped and looked back.

    ¡°I must come with you so my men know not to attack,¡± said the man, striding forward. ¡°If they are already breaching our walls, then there is no time to waste. Gon?al, tell the others to meet me there. I will be armored on the field. Bring my horse. Socks, will you give me a ride?¡±

    Dirt grinned, proud to see the man¡¯s daring, and looked at Socks.

    The pup said, --I like this human. Come. They should make a painting about us.- He bent under the doorway and led Dirt and the Duke down the hall, around the entranceway, and back out the building.

    The armored soldiers outside were already moving into lines, with more and more of them running across the plaza from different places to get into formation. The sound of their metal boots pounding on the stone clattered loudly, even over the chaos of the crowd clamoring for news from behind the short fencing surrounding the palace.

    ¡°My Lord!¡± shouted one of them, whose extra decorations marked him as a leader of some kind.

    ¡°Come when you are ready. I¡¯ll be going on ahead,¡± said the Duke, standing regal and calm. He raised a hand, gently beckoning Socks. ¡°How shall I get up?¡±

    The pup lifted the Duke with his mind and set him down on Dirt¡¯s spot. The crowd of soldiers and men reacted in shock and horror, many screaming. Some stepped forward to help, and others stepped backward to flee. But the man raised his hand again, smiling freely and without fear. He waved at his people until they got the idea and calmed down somewhat.

    Dirt jumped up as well, sat down in the Duke¡¯s lap, and said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about falling off. Socks won¡¯t drop us. But if you get nervous you can hold onto me.¡±

    ¡°I have never felt more secure,¡± said the Duke. ¡°This is quite comfortable.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Okay, Socks, we¡¯re ready.¡±

    The pup left at full speed, leaping over countless people to land in a small open space, then jumping again. The Duke held back a scream at great difficulty, clutching Dirt with surprising strength and making a long whimpering sound instead.

    Dirt laughed and shouted, ¡°Faster!¡±

    The Duke hissed in fear, but stopped when Socks hit the ground and sprinted with all his might, moving so fast they couldn¡¯t hear anything over the wind. The Duke hugged Dirt so tightly he could tell the man was holding his breath, so he patted his arm, not that it would do any good.

    Only a moment later, and they were back at the gate. Socks slowed and stopped, and the Duke let out a loud gasp, then took a deep breath and did his best to regain his composure. The man¡¯s heart was beating at triple speed, but he smoothed out his fine clothing and hair and regained most of his dignity.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°It¡¯s fun, isn¡¯t it?¡± said Dirt, teasing the poor man.

    It was the wrong time for a joke, though, because the area was a mess. A surprising horde of goblins assaulted the few dozen soldiers pressed together in the gateway, blocking with their shields while the second row thrust swords and spears through to fight back. The line held, but it wobbled and bent under the press of wretched green flesh.

    At least fifty of the horrible creatures had gotten through. Some had rushed into houses and were making it hard to get them back out while others moved through the street in clusters, daring anyone to come charge them, snarling and gnashing their crooked yellow teeth. Screams and alarms rang out from everywhere and the nice gray paving stones were already slick with blood and corpses, not all of them green.

    Socks grabbed the nearest clump of goblins with his mind, all six of them, and tossed them back over the wall, high enough they¡¯d crunch when they came back down. He yanked two more through a house window and ripped them in half, then tossed the remains over the wall as well. Then another group, and another, to the horrified awe of the men who¡¯d been struggling with their lives to bring them down.

    The men fought desperately, boldness giving way to despair. The acrid, unmistakable scent of fear mixed with the reek of blood and injuries as women and children screamed from inside houses they¡¯d been too slow to flee, helplessly watching the carnage in the streets.

    The Duke sat through it all, riding regally with one hand resting on Dirt¡¯s shoulder, but he gripped ever tighter with each new horror. Dirt was content to keep sitting there for a bit, because it looked like the humans were doing fine for the moment and if he jumped down, he¡¯d get his shoes bloody.

    A goblin from inside tried rushing the rear of the soldiers holding the line and Socks jumped forward and ripped it in half between his teeth and right paw. He stepped right up to the line of soldiers, sniffing around and looking to get a good idea what was going on, then filled the air outside the gate with sparks.

    A wall of fire erupted and burst forward, filling the air with searing heat and the scent of burning flesh. Socks drew deeply on his mana and made the fire hot, so hot that most of the goblins caught right inside it died before they could do much screaming. Then he made a second wave of sparks a bit farther out and erupted that into a much wider fire. Now that he had some room, he stepped right over rows of soldiers who cowered and hid their faces from the heat, and out onto the sizzling ground outside the gate.

    -That is a lot of goblins,- Socks said. And he was right. Too many to count, well into the hundreds, and possibly thousands. More goblins than there had been digger-beasts, for certain.

    ¡°I wonder if it¡¯s the same army that killed everyone in Llovella,¡± said Dirt mentally, since there was too much screaming going on to talk with his voice. ¡°This could be really bad. I¡¯m not sure we can chase this many off.¡±

    -They won¡¯t be able to get through the gate, no matter how many there are,- said Socks. -That¡¯s why the city is still here.-

    The roaring shriek of the screaming goblin army sickened him as much as its appearance did. They made a roiling sea of green flesh, paler than his ferns but just as dense, with too many twisted, stretched faces and gnarled teeth. Ears curled or straight and pointy, many of them damaged or sliced. They stood so close together that they hardly had room to raise their fists, many of which held clubs or rusty swords. Dirt had hated them before he¡¯d seen a crowd of humans, and now that he had something to compare goblins to, he hated them twice over.

    ¡°The gate!¡± the Duke shouted. ¡°Go back in!¡±

    ¡°Wait, let¡¯s try something first real quick!¡± shouted Dirt. Then with his mind he told Socks, ¡°Make one more fire. I¡¯m going to try blowing it with wind and see what happens.¡±

    Socks obliged and cast a field of sparks over the next goblins, who were already gathering their courage to rush forward over their suffering, dying kin. The flames erupted with a roar and a wave of force that seared lungs and melted flesh, causing eyes to burst and killing broad swathes at once.

    Dirt raised the Home-staff and drew on his mana to call a wind into being, blowing down from the sky to spread the flames farther across the horde. It spread the flames with ease but did little to make them stronger, since there wasn¡¯t any proper fuel to ignite. Socks¡¯ fires died out, killing fewer goblins than before, but singeing others enough to make them angry.

    -Well, it was a good idea,¡± said Socks. He looked out anxiously over the army of goblins, stiffening his hackles slightly with growing trepidation. He padded back in through the gate, stepping over the soldiers and letting them cut down the goblins who had been too close to burn.

    The gate wasn¡¯t where Socks had left it. Someone had attached ropes and dragged it most of the way back to the wall, where it still lay flat on the ground. Perhaps the humans could have gotten it up and into place by themselves if they¡¯d had enough time, but they had none. Socks hefted it upright with his mind and moved it over to its place, where he held it overhead, waiting for room.

    ¡°Back three! Back three!¡± shouted the Duke, hands around his mouth to make a horn. They heard him over the chaos and repeated the call, then the Major, Marc, shouted, ¡°One! Two! Three!¡±

    With each count, the whole line moved back as one, all stepping at the same time and keeping the line intact. A man who¡¯d been dawdling at the periphery dove forward to pull a fallen soldier out of the gateway, just in time.

    The gate slammed down into place, turning a whole row of goblins into severed bits and paste that splattered a surprising distance. After such a shock, the ones who¡¯d made it inside were easy work for the soldiers and soon after, the work of killing ceased inside the city.

    It didn¡¯t get quiet, exactly, but it did get quieter. The gate blocked most of the noise from the goblins, but could not silence their screams. Those blurred into an unpleasant roar that rolled over the gates and made everyone¡¯s heart tremble.

    ¡°Please let me down, Socks,¡± said the Duke, releasing the tight grip he¡¯d had on Dirt¡¯s shoulder this whole time. ¡°I must see to my men.¡±

    -You will get blood on your shoes,-- said Socks.

    ¡°I have other shoes,¡± said the Duke.

    Socks lifted him with his mind and set him down gently, feet first, in an open spot a few feet away, one of the few patches near the gate where the stones were still clean.

    He strode directly up to the Major and said, ¡°Report.¡±

    ¡°My Lord!¡± said Marc. ¡°They rushed us out of nowhere, already massed. We were so focused on helping move the gate we didn¡¯t see them until they¡¯d entered the plain. They came right for us and it¡¯s my opinion they knew about the gap. We got a line up in time, but they broke through around the left side once and a third of your men are going house by house to hunt them down.¡±

    ¡°Tell the archers to hold their arrows for now and send the footmen to make sure none remain inside my walls. This gate will hold. Get me a count of the killed and injured,¡± said the Duke, hands behind his back as he listened with a calmness that spread to everyone who saw him. ¡°Offer anyone who was bitten their final mercy and send those who refuse to their families for their final hours.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Lord,¡± said the Major. He turned and barked orders at the men behind him and the soldiery sprang back into action, spreading out to check every shadow and corner for hiding goblins.

    Socks kept holding the gate, which pounded with goblin fists and clubs of bone or wood as the men tried not to stare at it in dread. But then the sounds changed, becoming sharper, and Dirt realized along with everyone else that the goblins were hacking at the wood with weapons of metal now¡ªthe rusty swords and axes he¡¯d seen before. A worried murmur passed through the men.

    The injured were deposited along the street to rest their heads on whatever cloth could be found for a pillow. Mostly nothing, just the hard ground. One by one they were brought, some with minor wounds and others holding their guts in. The goblins were short, resulting in more injuries to the lower parts of the body; but the wounds were no less gruesome and deadly for that.

    Dirt watched one man bleed out from a deceptively deep gash on his inner thigh and breathe his last. The sight affected him more than any other death, and he¡¯d seen plenty. It struck a whole chord of emotions inside him¡ªfear, heartbreak, and a nameless sense of wrongness. He wished he could have seen what happened to the man¡¯s mind for clues about where his soul had gone and at least draw some comfort from that. He couldn¡¯t.

    He began to appreciate the desperation of the men around him. Even the Duke felt it, showing it only in the slightest ways, a tightness around his eyes and lips that his commanding dignity couldn¡¯t completely erase. Death hung over everything. Socks and Dirt would make it out regardless, but if this place fell, no one else would. All those people, ripped apart.

    ¡°Oh, hey, Socks, would you mind licking some of their wounds? The ones who are going to die soon?¡± asked Dirt mentally.

    -If they bring them to me. I am going to sit down before my feet get sore. The gate is heavy and the goblins hitting it makes it worse. I don¡¯t know how long I have to hold it, because the men to fix it still aren¡¯t here yet,- And sure enough, Socks lay down to rest, paws forward and head up to remain wary.

    Dirt slid down and hopped between clear spots on the stone road as he made his way over to the injured. They¡¯d begun field medicine where possible, doing clever things like sewing wounds shut with needle and thread or applying salves and bandages. As tempted as he was to watch and learn how they did everything, it wasn¡¯t the most efficient just now.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± said Dirt to the nearest uninjured soldier, a man holding a fat roll of bandages that others kept cutting lengths from. ¡°If you want to take the people with the worst injuries over by Socks, he¡¯ll lick their wounds and they¡¯ll get better. People with goblin bites, too.¡±

    The man stared down at him with a blank expression, unable to make sense of what he was being asked. ¡°That won¡¯t help. Just stay out of the way.¡±

    ¡°Yes it will. He does it all the time.¡±

    ¡°Go talk to the Major or the Duke, son. I can¡¯t deal with this right now.¡±

    ¡°Just watch, then,¡± said Dirt. He stepped through the crowd of soldiers performing desperate medicine until he found a likely candidate, a young beardless man with no hint of a mustache, who was busy applying pressure to a stab wound just under his rib cage. He looked pale and the skin around where he was holding looked bruised and unwell from bleeding on the inside.

    ¡°My friend Socks is going to save you. Don¡¯t be scared,¡± said Dirt.

    The young man could hardly focus, turning his head and saying, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Just a moment while I carry you over,¡± said Dirt. He inhaled a good amount of mana and used it to strengthen his muscles, then awkwardly lifted the man in a cradling position and carried him over to Socks. Some of the medics came over and tried to stop Dirt, and the man himself squirmed and moaned in pain and begged to be put down.

    Socks looked at the ones approaching and gave a low growl, and that was enough to get them to back off.

    Dirt put the man down and held his arms away, pinning him down. He was strong, despite his injuries, but not compared to Dirt using mana. Socks licked the man¡¯s wound, lapping up all the blood and digging in with his huge tongue as deeply as he could. A moment later, the soldier¡¯s breathing relaxed and a bit of life came back into him. Socks lifted his head away and the man sat up, drawing surprised gasps from those watching.

    ¡°I¡¯m healed!¡±

    ¡°Mostly,¡± said Dirt. ¡°It¡¯ll hurt for a day or so. So, anyone else? Just the people who are going to die. How about that guy? Hold his intestines in and bring him over.¡±

 The Druid - Chapter 26

    Only eight men had been wounded to the point of death and Socks made quick work of those. Another six had been bitten by goblins, and they seemed more serious and ashen-faced than the man holding his guts in, or the two who had passed out from blood loss and awoke expecting to see the afterlife. Once all those were taken care of, Socks made an exception to Dirt¡¯s ¡®only the dying¡¯ policy and had a man hold a severed hand in place while he licked it, just to see if it¡¯d work. It did, it turned out; the bone remained severed, but all the flesh sealed back together.

    During the last few treatments, Dirt heard a loud clattering sound but was too distracted to pay attention. When Socks was done, however, he saw that the Duke¡¯s armored horsemen had arrived, riding up the street five abreast in tight formation. They carried tall spears on one side and shields on the other, and Dirt had never seen fighters so grand, not even in Prisca¡¯s memories.

    Some wore richly-embroidered tabards over their chests, and others carried flags, or had ribbons tied to their lances or around their arms. Even the horses themselves were dressed and armored, so well-covered that Dirt still wasn¡¯t sure what a horse was supposed to look like. The armored men matched the palace, Dirt decided, as prime examples of human accomplishment¡ªskillfully ornamented and redoubtable.

    They couldn¡¯t get the horses too close, though. The animals could see Socks in the middle of the road and probably smell him, and no amount of training or encouragement was going to get them any closer.

    -So much for those things being good at fighting,-- said Socks, just to Dirt. -Do you think those men would have to get off if they wanted to poke me with their lances?-

    ¡°That just proves the horses are smart,¡± replied Dirt. ¡°What should they do, come up and lick you? Do horses lick?¡±

    -They have tongues and everything with a tongue can lick.-

    ¡°Humans don¡¯t lick each other to say hello. In fact, I don¡¯t think they lick each other at all.¡±

    -You have not met enough humans to say so,- said Socks. -You should try licking the next humans you meet, so we can see what happens.-

    Dirt grinned at that, finding the picture amusing. But then he thought about it and wondered why it was funny and why it seemed so strange. Maybe he should try it one of these days. Although¡­ ¡°Maybe I will if I see the Duke do it.¡±

    He and Socks both looked at the Duke, who was patting his own horse, its brown and white spots only scarcely visible under a barding of silk and gold thread. Two youths stood nearby holding armor far more ornate than any of the rest, probably waiting for the Duke¡¯s command to put it on him.

    The Duke noticed their gazes and left his entourage to walk over at a brisk pace. Two attendants with swords followed hurriedly behind, taking deliberate effort not to look like they might be trying to threaten the giant wolf, which Dirt and Socks both found droll.

    ¡°Socks, a question,¡± said the man, standing straight and fearless, only a few steps away from the pup¡¯s nose. ¡°Would you be able to lift the gate away to allow my men a charge, then close it again? And open it again when they return?¡±

    -Yes.- The pup stood and wagged his tail, mouth hanging open. --Are they ready now? Wait, I want to watch.-

    Socks radiated excitement as he hopped up onto a nearby house, walking to the edge where he could peek over the wall. The building creaked beneath him and some of the tiles cracked and slid off with a loud clatter, but it held him. He wagged his tail ever harder as he looked out into the field, then back at the men, and back out again.

    -I am ready. You men, go and I will open it just in time, so the goblins don¡¯t all get in.-

    Dirt decided he wanted to see the moment when they first crashed into the goblins and hustled over to the gate, slipping easily between the handful of defenders waiting behind it. He stood right up against the stone wall, only a step or two away from the opening, where he¡¯d get the best view of their charge.

    Surely the Duke hadn¡¯t meant they were going to go right now, and surely Socks knew that, but he was too excited and couldn¡¯t help himself. And besides, the Duke wasn¡¯t put off-balance by the pup¡¯s haste in the slightest; at least, if he was, he didn¡¯t show it. He raised his hand and spoke with a voice that echoed off the stones, ¡°The gate will open for your charge, and open again for your return. In my name, and for the glory of our King, Charge! Charge now!¡±

    Socks eagerly lifted the gate a few inches just so they¡¯d get the idea, and to their credit, the men lowered their lances and spears and spurred the horses forward. Dirt watched in surprised respect at how fast the horses allowed themselves to be driven right into a closed gate; they must be plenty smart after all and knew what was happening. He wished for the hundredth time that the city wasn¡¯t so crowded it blinded his mind-sight.

    At just the last moment, when the lead horse was turning its nose and obviously about to try and stop, the gate flew upwards, to the surprise of the dozens of goblins hacking away at it with rusty swords and axes.

    The horsemen smashed into the crowd of squirming green bodies with a resounding percussive force. And they kept coming, row after row of them, charging forward and shredding the fallen goblins with their hooves. They didn¡¯t even need those long lances¡ªwith the goblins only as tall as a human child, the armored horses barely even slowed running them over despite their thick musculature.

    Dirt watched, entranced, his ears filled with their thunder, until the last rank of horsemen had passed the gate. Right on cue, the heavy wooden door slid back down and shoved itself forward a few feet to rest in its frame.

    -Look at them go! They are just stomping all over the goblins. They don¡¯t even need the armor,- said Socks loud enough for everyone to hear and still wagging his tail hard enough to knock people over. Good thing he was on a roof.

    Since there wasn¡¯t much to see until they came back, Dirt made his way over to the ladder and climbed up onto the wall so he could watch. The walkway atop the wall was wide enough for two men to walk side-by-side, but that was all. Its height made it feel much narrower, even though the stone walls to either side made it impossible to fall off.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be up here, boy,¡± said one of the archers, a long-faced man with stubble instead of a beard whom Dirt had never noticed before. Despite his words, he made no effort to usher Dirt back down.

    ¡°I just want to see the horses,¡± said Dirt, making no effort to move if they weren¡¯t going to force it. ¡°Say, has this ever happened before?¡±

    ¡°Never so many,¡± said the archer. ¡°And they¡¯ve never been smart enough to hack at the gate. That¡¯s new. My turn for a question. Did they chase you all the way here? Is that why your, uh, friends were in such a hurry to get in?¡±

    ¡°No, not even a goblin is stupid enough to chase Socks,¡± said Dirt. He was glad he¡¯d come up here¡ªthe view was fantastic, plenty high enough to see the armored horsemen cutting through the army like so much waving grain. They¡¯d spread out into more of a wedge than a mallet and left a trail of muddy carnage behind them, making their passing unmistakable.

    ¡°Okay, I have another question,¡± said Dirt. ¡°With those armored men and horses, how come the goblins are still a problem?¡±

    ¡°Couple reasons. One is they don¡¯t form into armies very often. Usually just little groups, sneaking around hunting for whatever meat they can find. Hasn¡¯t been safe to farm out there for years, and there¡¯s no way to get them all. Two, that¡¯s a lot more dangerous than it looks,¡± said the archer.

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s every horse the Duke has out there. All sixty or so. A few go down, and the best case is they don¡¯t have enough horsemen for a second charge. Worst case, the formation falls apart and we lose everyone who can¡¯t make it back on foot.¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°The armor should keep them alive, though. There¡¯s nowhere for a goblin to stab,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Sure, but if they pull you down, you¡¯re not getting back up, and they¡¯ll get that armor off you eventually. Just takes one bite to kill, after all,¡± said the man. He lowered his voice and looked around a bit guiltily, even though the man to the right and left of him would hear it regardless. He asked, ¡°My turn for a question. I¡¯ve heard whispers they saw an avitus, around the time your, uh, friend came in. Did you see one? Do you know anything about that?¡±

    Dirt kept his face blank while he thought about how to answer. ¡°What does an avitus look like?¡± he asked.

    The man¡¯s neighbor answered for him. ¡°An old man wearing a white gown, or maybe it¡¯s supposed to be a robe. He walks through town and any child he touches gets palsy. It¡¯s a stupid story.¡±

    ¡°No, the way my parents tell it, is it only looks like an old man until you get close. It¡¯s a monster in human disguise and it kidnaps children and burns them alive.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard that version, too. And the one where he goes around pointing at things, and everything he points at will collapse or die before the next full moon,¡± said the neighbor. ¡°And the version where it¡¯s a shapechanger.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± said Dirt truthfully, ¡°I didn¡¯t see anything like that.¡±

    The horsemen in the field turned to make an arc through the rear of the goblin army, where the bodies were much less dense. Dirt expected them to cut right across to the other side, then angle back inward. They left a trail that was easy to follow, and Dirt kept glancing along it to see if anyone had fallen or been separated, but so far, so good.

    -COME BACK NOW. RIGHT NOW,- said Socks, loud enough to give Dirt a brief, mild headache. All around, people ducked or reacted in some other way to the wolf¡¯s voice thundering in their minds. Way out in the field, a ripple of recognition passed through the horsemen¡¯s formation and one man raised his banner and waved it. The horsemen turned an impressively sharp corner and made directly for the gate. The distance they now had to cross, and the horde of raving creatures covering it, looked much more sinister now.

    ¡°What is it?¡± asked Dirt aloud, since Socks would hear him regardless.

    --Something half-dead is coming. More than one, I think.-

    ¡°Where?¡±

    --I don¡¯t know.-

    Dirt looked up, and there it was¡ªthe same ripple overhead, circling slowly as it watched them.

    -Not that. FASTER. HURRY.-

    The horsemen could only go so fast, but it looked like they tried, spurring their horses and crushing everything in their path. Two hundred paces. A hundred and eighty.

    Between the horsemen and the gate, a thin, green arm as long as four horses together rose from the midst of the goblins, followed by another, and another. A monstrosity vaguely shaped like a spider arose, all made of writhing, sickly flesh the same color as the goblins. It had no teeth or even a face, just arms and legs and limbs that were a wretched combination of the two jutting out from a flat, round body.

    Every man on the wall gave a cry of terror or alarm, and Socks kept jutting forward, as if wanting to run out there and fight it. The gate. He didn¡¯t want to drop the gate and let them all in, and he couldn¡¯t fight while holding it in place.

    ¡°Report! Report!¡± shouted the Duke from below, but he didn¡¯t get one; what were they supposed to tell him? A few men glanced back toward him, faces pained, but couldn¡¯t sum it up in a return shout.

    ¡°Socks, lift the Duke up to the wall. I¡¯ll make room,¡± Dirt said, directly to the pup¡¯s mind. He wrapped both arms around the waist of the man he¡¯d been talking to and carried him out of the way rather than waste time trying to explain. And sure enough, just as the man began a confused splutter of protest, the Duke floated up and landed in that spot, as gracefully as if he¡¯d done it by himself.

    ¡°My lord!¡± said the men close enough to notice, but the Duke gave them no more than a nod as he gazed out into the field of battle. His hand shot to Dirt¡¯s shoulder and grabbed it tightly once he saw the spindly green monstrosity, and Dirt felt tremors of fear in the man¡¯s fingers that didn¡¯t reach his face.

    ¡°We shall have to trust them. They are the finest among us,¡± said the Duke, his voice quiet despite the noise around him.

    The horsemen didn¡¯t turn aside and try to go around like Dirt expected. They slowed, horses rearing to stomp on any goblins who approached as they readjusted their formation. Those who still had lances moved to the front and the edges of the wedge tightened, narrowing the focus of their attack.

    They spurred their horses forward again, giving a great shout that cut through the screams of goblins and the cries of the men on the wall and gripped Dirt¡¯s heart, electrifying him.

    The goblins between the monstrosity and the horsemen realized the danger they were in and gave up trying to fight. They clawed and bit each other instead, pushing down their fellows and climbing over them as they fought to get out of the way.

    Every man on the wall held his breath to watch the charge. The monstrosity turned to face the riders, even though it had no discernable front or back, and raised three of its limbs. Hands the size of barrels curled into fists and waited.

    The first lances stabbed its contorting limbs just as it swung down, hammering into the front of the armored formation. The lancers left their weapons in its body and rode onward, but not everyone followed. Four horses had been killed instantly, their riders crushed as well or thrown to the side, and the creature raised it fists again, four of them this time, and hammered down at an angle instead to sweep the next rank of riders to the side.

    But the men on the ends hunkered under their shields and deflected the blows upward, even while its monstrous strength threw them to the ground. The formation was secure, and the next rank of riders crashed into the beast. Some stabbed with lances and others struck it with their shields. The effect was immediate.

    It shuddered and flailed, injured and dangerous. It jumped to the side, landing in the crowd of struggling goblins, and changed its tactics, grabbing riders off their horses instead. Two it tossed away, and Socks caught those right out of the air and brought them back over the wall. But the others weren¡¯t so lucky, getting dropped on the ground and then hammered with its barrel-sized fists.

    The right side of the formation curved away to charge directly at it, their lances aimed straight at the monster¡¯s core. It tried to swat them away like the others, but too many of its limbs were injured and it failed to protect itself fully. It crushed one more horse¡¯s head and cracked the legs of another, but that wasn¡¯t enough. A lance punched into its body and the man rode right under it to get back into formation. Then the next, stabbing it a second time and leaving the lance in place.

    The monstrosity curled up into a ball and simply waited for the rest to pass. The goblins screamed in anger and rushed for the horsemen again, but it was too late to stop their charge and they rode at full speed toward the closed gate.

    ¡°See how they trust me,¡± said the Duke, his face unable to hide the pure emotion that held him.

    At the last moment, Socks flung the gate upward again, with such sudden strength that the return force on his body pressed him right through the house he was on, collapsing it with a loud crash.

    The riders charged inside an instant later and everyone raised their fists and voices in a shout of triumph. Socks flailed to extricate himself from the ruined house, throwing planks and stones every direction until he could crawl out and stand back up. When the last horseman passed through, he brought the gate down and slid it back into place.

    The Duke hastily climbed down the ladder to greet his men and get their status, but Dirt kept his eyes on the field for a moment longer. And it was a good thing he did, because the monstrosity rose again and pulled the lances out of itself, one by one. Most it threw away, but two it gripped for its own use.

    Socks hefted a long beam from the fallen ruin of the house and placed it against the gate. -Hold this for a moment,- he said. -You, you men standing there. Put your hands on it. Hold it. Right now.-

    Once a few defenders braced the beam, the gate loosened in its place to indicate Socks had let go of it.

    -I¡¯ll be right back,-- said the pup. Socks effortlessly leaped over the wall, landing lightly on the field of battle. He ran out toward the fallen horsemen, ignoring the goblins useless attempts to swat or bite him as he passed. He found one, and lifted him out of danger with his mind, then another. And another.

    The monstrosity hesitated, its many wounds oozing a thick, dark-brown fluid that swallowed the sunlight, and Socks was content to ignore it until he found them all. Then he raced back over the wall and gently set the recovered horsemen alongside the other injured soldiers.

    Dirt jumped clear off the wall and ran right over to the gate, resting his hand on its planed wood surface. It was smooth beneath his fingers, the old polish still holding strong, at least on this side.

    Working with dead wood was much, much harder, but not impossible. Dirt inhaled mana and told it to grow. Grow, grow, he commanded, and it grew, slowly, resisting, taking far more mana than living wood. This door had been dead for ages, decades or more, but the word of magic the dryads taught him commanded it nonetheless. He drew more and more mana, inhaling it as fast as he could to fuel the process of growth and expansion.

    The brace holding the gate up fell aside with a heavy thump as the door grew tendrils that grew into thick branches that grasped the stone gateway tightly, both front and back. It expanded in every direction, thickening and pressing the arch above its frame upward until gaps appeared between the stone. Dirt breathed more power into the process until its bumpy surface filled the entire gateway, flush with the wall and held in place by branches thicker than a man¡¯s leg that stretched three paces in every direction.

    Dirt turned to see a sea of stunned faces. Everyone had been watching him do it. They all knew, now. He hesitated, almost hiding behind the Home-staff.

    But before anyone shot him with an arrow, the Duke raised his fist and gave another shout of triumph. An instant later, so did everyone else and Dirt was so relieved he almost cried.

    Men stepped over to pat him on the head or shoulder, smiling widely, leaving Dirt to grin back and nod awkwardly. First a few, but then twenty and more. So many rough hands on him should have been uncomfortable, but instead, he found they made it feel warm inside his chest.

    The archers gave a cry of their own and started firing their arrows. The Duke shouted, ¡°Report!¡±

    ¡°My Lord, it¡¯s still alive but it¡¯s too injured to climb up!¡±

    -Then save your arrows. I smell others on the wind coming down from the hills,- said Socks. And with that, the temporary moment of jubilation ended.

 The Druid - Chapter 27

    ¡°I really thought this wouldn¡¯t take very long,¡± said Dirt, sighing and thinking about their meal getting cold, sitting there on the table. He wondered if Ignasi and the others had resumed eating, since they weren¡¯t here. ¡°How many are coming? Is it the same kind?¡±

    -Enough are coming for me to smell them from too far away to see, but I don¡¯t know how many that is,- replied Socks. He shook from tail to nose, flinging the last of the dust from the collapsed house away. The crowd of guardsmen parted to allow him through, not that it mattered; he could step right over them. Reaching Dirt and the gate, he sniffed both, then gave Dirt a little lick. -You really stuck the gate in there tight.-

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t do any good if it falls off or the goblins chop their way through,¡± said Dirt.

    -It depends on which direction it falls off,- said Socks.

    Dirt grinned and looked around to see if anyone else thought that was funny. Mostly, they looked unsure whether wolves could tell jokes.

    The Duke waved for Dirt to come over, then stood expectantly with his hands behind his back. Dirt nodded and slipped through to go meet him with Socks following right behind.

    ¡°I am impressed, little Dirt. There is much I will ask, once we have time for a long conversation under more pleasant circumstances,¡± said the Duke. He furrowed his brow and looked at the ground, thinking. ¡°I¡­ hmm.¡±

    -Dirt can shape wood, speak to plants and animals, call wind down from the sky, create lights, and several other things. He can also fight. He learned some of it from the trees and some of it from me. There. Now you don¡¯t have to think of a way to ask,- said Socks, his voice tinged with amusement. -And before you ask, he really is a human. I already said that.-

    ¡°You did indeed, friend. You did indeed, and you are the expert on the matter,¡± said the Duke. ¡°Our confusion is simply that humans do not do what Dirt has done.¡±

    -That is probably why you are dying out,- said Socks.

    ¡°Well answered. But we are not dying out today.¡± said the Duke. He turned and gestured at the now-permanent gate. ¡°Or any time soon. With the only remaining entry closed, the city is secure. We will watch until the goblins leave, but they will disperse once they start getting hungry. They never come with provisions. In the meantime, we must consider what is to be done about the others you smelled on the wind.¡±

    -They will climb over the walls when they get here.-

    ¡°Firstly, have you smelled them before? At any point on your travel down from Llovella?¡±

    -No, never. I don¡¯t know what they are.-

    ¡°Neither do I. Secondly, could you be mistaken? Perhaps you smelled them because that is where they live,¡± said the Duke.

    ¡°Loose!¡± shouted an archer. Dirt and the rest turned to see the archers atop the wall shot their arrows at something on the other side.

    ¡°Report!¡± shouted the Duke.

    Before anyone answered, a monstrous hand reached up, bloody and pierced with at least four arrows, and tried to grab one of the archers. The man dove off inside the wall at the last moment, saving his life at risk of breaking his ankles. He had the good fortune to be caught by Socks, though, and set down safely.

    The creature¡¯s hand reached for another archer but got only a vicious sword wound for its efforts. It grabbed the lip of the wall with its long, green fingers, and pulled an entire rectangular stone down, leaving a section of walkway bare of exterior railing. The rock was so heavy that Dirt felt the thump of it hitting the ground all the way from here.

    Socks raised his hackles and drew his lips back into a snarl. -I want to growl but I will scare the horses. Come, Dirt, we will fight.-

    ¡°Surely you don¡¯t mean to take the boy out there?¡± asked the Duke, reaching forward to place his hand protectively between Socks and Dirt.

    -Dirt is like me. We are very nice until it is time to be ferocious. I want to scare off all the goblins before those other things come, or they will get in the way and it will be complicated.-

    ¡°How long do you think we have?¡± asked Dirt. He sat down and untied a shoestring, then pulled it off and put it in his pack.

    -There are a lot of goblins,- said Socks.

    ¡°Wait,¡± said the Duke. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to get blood all over my clothes, so I¡¯m taking them off. Don¡¯t tell Marina,¡± said Dirt. He pulled his other shoe off, then his socks, and put them in his pack. Then he stood back up and hopped out of his pants. He rolled those up before putting them away. ¡°Can you hold this for me?¡± he asked, handing the backpack out for the Duke.

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± said the Duke, his perfectly disciplined demeanor slipping. A tinge of worry appeared at the edge of his eyes, a tightness in his lips under his finely-oiled mustache. ¡°You can¡¯t go out there like that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not. I have this sheath for my dagger. That counts,¡± said Dirt, hoping to elicit a smile. It didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Boy,¡± said the Duke sternly.

    ¡°Please just hold this?¡± said Dirt. He turned to the armored man next to the Duke and pressed the backpack into his stomach. ¡°Or maybe you can? I don¡¯t know your name. But can you hold this for me until I come back? I don¡¯t want to lose it."

    ¡°I never agreed to carry bags for children,¡± said the man, taking the backpack from Dirt and handing it to the Duke.

    ¡°Sir Vidal?¡± asked the Duke, eyes widening as surprise removed another layer of his discipline.

    ¡°My oaths are about fighting, not carrying. Let us join them, my Lord. If the wolf is willing to lift us over the wall, we will take the field. We¡¯ll leave the horses and fight on foot. I¡¯ll keep the boy safe if I can,¡± said the armored fighter.

    ¡°How will you get back in if you have to flee?¡± asked the Duke, his worry no longer concealed in the slightest.

    ¡°We¡¯ll stack the bodies and walk over, my Lord. We had but a taste of blood today and wish ourselves another portion,¡± said the man, radiating resolve.

    The Duke looked him in the eyes, clear respect showing through his worry.

    ¡°Please, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°I forbid it,¡± said the Duke. He handed Dirt¡¯s backpack to an un-armored servant.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°My Lord!¡± begged the armored man.

    ¡°I forbid it! I¡¯m not leaving the fate of my duchy and the King¡¯s people to a puppy, a naked boy, and a band of knights with an absent Lord! Armor! Armor, now!¡± shouted the Duke. He pulled his thick, multicolored shirt off by himself, leaving a much thinner undershirt, and tossed it to the same servant who held Dirt¡¯s backpack. The man barely caught it before it hit the ground.

    From there it was one of the most elegant dances Dirt had ever seen. Four young men dressed the duke, first in padded clothing, and then layer after layer of armor. The Duke moved with perfect accuracy to assist them, holding out an arm or leg at just the right time and angle. Even with so many practiced hands, it took a surprisingly long time to get the Duke into his armor. There were straps to pull, then test, then pull again. Bits and pieces to adjust, more than Dirt could keep track of. He and Socks had the same thought, which was to be impressed at the incredible artistry that went into crafting it, now that they could see enough to appreciate it.

    And it truly was something to appreciate. To Dirt, armor was simple. The most complicated armor his people had used was rows of metal plates fastened to a shirt. Most of the armor in the Sunset Empire had been solid metal, not an intricate work of thousands of perfectly-shaped bits of metal. At least, if his people had had anything like this, Prisca¡¯s memories didn¡¯t contain it. And judging from his gut reaction to what he was seeing, he was sure such armor was a new thing in the world, fashioned long after his era.

    A few minutes later, the Duke was encased in solid, gleaming metal, and snapped his visor down with a loud clack. He stood turned to face his armored men, and said, ¡°We will fight in formation. Defend your neighbors and do not allow yourselves to be killed. Tonight our children shall sleep to lullabies, not lamentations and dirges. Socks, if you would be so kind as to lift us over the wall, it would be our honor to join you on the field of battle.¡±

    -You never asked me. What if I say no, after you spent all that time putting your armor on?- said Socks. His voice was serious, but his tongue was out and he was wagging his tail, giving him away.

    Dirt grinned as the band of armored men swallowed the cheer they¡¯d been about to erupt into. ¡°Be nice, Socks,¡± he said.

    -I am only teasing. It is good for the father human to fight with his brood,- said Socks. -You little humans are very brave. Almost as brave as Dirt. Come. I can¡¯t lift you all up at once. Dirt, go clear a spot for them to land.-

    ¡°Finally!¡± shouted Dirt. He ran back through the growing crowd of onlookers as he inhaled a full measure of mana, then jumped right over the wall. At the height of his jump, he raised the staff and gave an excited shout, which he intended for a battle cry but didn¡¯t sound like one.

    To his left, the creature was unmoving and trampled by goblins, finally killed for good. It had about fifty arrows in its round little body, and at least that many more in its malformed limbs. Dirt swung his staff down with both hands to crush the skull of the goblin he was about to land on, then expended a surge of mana to spin and fling them all away to start making room.

    The Home-staff swung with inexorable weight, the massive tree¡¯s momentum crushing so far into goblin flesh that it ripped arms apart and burst chests open in a spray of gore. And just like that, Dirt proved he¡¯d been right to undress first. Not even long enough in the field to blink twice, and his front was coated in red.

    Dirt swung the staff in wide arcs, holding it on the bare end, crushing screaming goblins and flinging their mangled bodies left and right in heaps. Being so close to them again reminded him anew how much he hated them. The scent of their breath and skin, their exaggerated features. Their eyes, so close to human but lacking any intelligence at all. Dirt hated even the taste of their blood, which got past his closed lips and flavored his teeth, but his disgust was offset by the satisfying cracks of their bones, their screams of fury whimpering out into death rattles.

    They rushed him from behind, their claws sliding uselessly off his mana-protected skin, and he spun, letting Home do her work and throwing their dying bodies into their crowding fellows.

    The first group of armored men landed around him, eight of them with swords already drawn. They tightened into a circular formation that Dirt jumped right over.

    The goblins were starting to realize the threat Dirt posed and shied away, but the size of the army meant there was nowhere for them to go. Dirt charged the next clump, swatting and striking to erase their hateful faces from his sight, just as the next group of armored men landed and folded seamlessly into the formation.

    Glancing back, the Duke wasn¡¯t here yet, so Dirt kept focusing on making room. He snarled in his most wolfish way and leaped on another goblin, spitting the blood of its siblings into its face before crushing its knees with a single stroke. Dirt turned to kill the next ones, and the next, swinging the staff in great arcs. But the one whose knees he¡¯d destroyed grabbed his ankle from the ground and pulled him back, locking its teeth around his calf. Dirt felt the mana there sizzle and spark as it burned away to protect his flesh, and before he could yank his leg away and get back up, another fell atop him, clawing his face and going for his neck with its teeth. Dirt rolled hard and freed his ankle, then burned a puff of mana to pull the other goblin under him. He held the staff widely in both hands and crushed it through the goblin¡¯s hissing mouth, shattering its teeth and breaking its jaw. Another shove downward broke its neck at the base of the skull.

    The next group of men landed with the ones after that following close behind, and the armored men quickly started to look like quite the formidable force. They had no need of shields and most had left them in favor of using two weapons. Their armor was sturdy enough to turn aside the rusty weapons and gnarled clubs the goblins wielded, and the soldier¡¯s swords and axes swung with such fury that a haze of red blood-fog formed in the air around them.

    The Duke landed with the last group and pushed his way forward to take a position in the front line. He joined in the work of death with the same vigor as his men, showing himself no less of a killer than they.

    Finally Socks arrived, tearing in every direction with teeth and claws and mind. To his left he destroyed the goblins with bursts of roaring flames, and to his right he lifted them with his mind five at a time and tore them in half. Dirt ran toward him and jumped, letting Socks grab him from the air with his mind and swing him through the goblin ranks, crushing dozens at a time with the Home-staff.

    Dirt estimated that over a hundred goblins must have been killed already, but it was so few compared to the rest of the swarming army that it may as well have been none. Socks fought with glee, leaping from place to place and leaving craters in the field of bodies. The pup¡¯s enthusiasm was so infectious that Dirt found himself laughing as he was yanked from place to place and thrown into groups of goblins to mow them down with his staff.

    The army was little more than a chaotic swarm of feral beasts, despite looking like they should have at least some intelligence. It turned out that moving unpredictably throughout the entire army instead of giving them a stationary target to focus on brought them nearly to a standstill. Instead of pushing forward at the gate, packing in so tightly in places that some of them suffocated and fell, they began to wait, unsteady and unsure, for Socks to come to them.

    ¡°Split them up! They¡¯re¡ª¡±

    -I see it!- replied Socks exultantly. Now that the goblins lost their reliable targets, they stopped refilling the areas where Socks had landed and killed another pocket. Those areas were starting to form threads, dividing the army roughly into four parts. The armored humans were doing very well for themselves, considering their limitations, in the quarter closest to the gate. The Duke was on the second row now, and Dirt supposed they were swapping out frequently to keep from getting tired.

    Socks carried Dirt low to the ground and had him hold the Home-staff forward with both hands. Then they charged right through the goblins, killing a few but mostly trampling over them without doing much damage. They moved from dead zone to dead zone, opening up gaps and pathways between them.

    The first little isolated group of goblins at the periphery started backing away from the rest of the army, and Socks turned toward them and barked loudly, a low sound that started as a growl and erupted into a percussive, angry noise. The group faltered and backed up faster.

    ¡°It¡¯s working! This is gonna be easy!¡±

    Socks jumped at the group, landing on the edge instead of in the middle, and nipped and clawed and bit to harry them into fleeing. The goblins tried to go around Socks to rejoin the army, hoping for safety in numbers, but Socks cut off their path with a row of sparks that erupted into flame. That was all it took for that segment of the army, perhaps as many as two hundred of them, to retreat with increasing haste.

    The pup chased them only briefly, just enough to convince them to keep running, then turned back toward the rest of the army.

    Just as he did, the entire army of goblins fell silent. Socks skidded to a halt and pulled Dirt onto his back. As one, every goblin, thousands of them, turned to face them. The wretched things ceased their screaming and wild movements and stepped with purpose into something resembling a formation, closing all the gaps.

    Dirt glanced everywhere in confusion and growing anxiety and caught a hint of motion above them. He looked up and saw the ripple in the sky, which had been hovering overhead for some time now, growing in size and descending.

    Socks turned his head to look at Dirt. They had no words. Something new was coming.

 The Druid - Chapter 28

    ¡°Break ranks and cut them down!¡± shouted the Duke, his voice carrying through the eerie silence despite being muffled by his helmet. The band of armored men split up like a disturbed ant¡¯s nest and slaughtered with reckless ferocity. The goblins gave no resistance, not even cries of pain as they were hacked apart.

    The ripple in the air widened and grew denser, taking on a white fog-like quality. Socks stepped back, his body lowered and fearful, hackles raising. With so many goblins, Dirt found he could differentiate them from the minds of the men across the way, and Socks¡¯ mind glowed like the sun. Their minds were silent, as if asleep, even though they were standing and looked alert. The mind in the ripple in the air was the same as before, simply watching, incomplete or damaged in a way that caused a deep sense of wrongness. Its thoughtless gaze was fixed on Dirt and Socks just as the goblins¡¯ were, but neither of them could see anything in it that might be controlling the army.

    ¡°Should we hit it?¡± asked Dirt.

    -I don¡¯t want to get close enough to until we know what it is.-

    Dirt stepped closer to Socks and stood just inside his front leg, since there was nowhere safer for him to stand. The Duke¡¯s men were killing goblins as fast as they could swing their weapons but there were so many still remaining, it was hard to tell if they had made much difference yet.

    The Duke caught Socks¡¯ gaze and reconsidered, calling out, ¡°Don¡¯t split up too far! Be ready to resume formation! Be ready, men!¡± It seemed he, Socks, and Dirt all had the same thought at the same time. There was a trick here, and splitting everyone up might be part of it.

    Overhead, the pale, translucent blur grew increasingly solid until it became a line, solidifying until it cast a shadow on the bloody mud below. It moved forward in the air until it hovered right above them, perhaps only twice the height of the wall. Dirt could have jumped up and hit it if he wanted, easy. Too close. Socks kept flinching as he debated running away.

    The line lengthened until it was twice as long as the pup, at which point it stopped moving at all. Its thoughts remained static, just observing, but there were such obvious gaps that Dirt was sure it was thinking somewhere, just like the tentacle monster had. It simply wasn¡¯t using its mind to do its thinking.

    A crack appeared in the blurry white that ran from end to end and widened like an opening eye. It was an opening eye, appearing in midair like something peering in from the void beyond all things. Its colors were inverted, with black where the white part should have been and a blood-red iris that moved only slowly as it regarded them below.

    Socks and Dirt stood in open horror. That eye looked bigger than even Father¡¯s, if it belonged on a creature proportionate to it in size. Surely it couldn¡¯t.

    A single tear of watery, black fluid pooled on the lens, the lowest point, and dripped down. Socks jumped away, pulling Dirt with him.

    A high-pitched screech erupted from the ground where the liquid splashed, sounding almost¡ªbut not quite¡ªlike screaming voices. Shimmering threads of blackness in the shape of flames swirled over the spot, causing neither heat nor light, but instead radiating a sickly feeling of wrongness that made Dirt squirm deep in his soul.

    The eye turned to find them again, and once it did, it moved in their direction, gliding silently.

    Dirt pulled his knife from its sheath and tossed it out in front of Socks¡¯ face. The pup grabbed it with his mind and threw it faster than vision could follow. It made a faint thumping sound as it pierced the eye right in the lens, and clear, watery liquid gushed from the hole it made.

    But instead of splashing, the liquid clumped together and heaped up into a pile. The liquid poured out faster as the puncture tore further open until the eye hung empty in the air, sagging like an empty sack.

    Dirt and Socks looked at each other, wondering if that was it. The incomplete mind of the watcher was gone now, but Dirt wasn¡¯t exactly sure when that had happened, distracted as he was. Glancing over at the goblins, they remained as they had been¡ªperfectly still, minds blank.

    The Duke¡¯s men had stopped cold to stare aghast at the black, deflated eye above the battlefield and the heap of clear muck below it. They shrank toward each other, backing up until they were almost in formation again.

    ¡°Now what?¡± thought Dirt.

    -I don¡¯t know. The other things are still coming from the hills. They will be here soon. I can see them with ghost sight.-

    ¡°Can you see the eye thing with ghost sight?¡±

    -Yes, but not very well.- Socks sent an image of the eye above in stark black and white, but the details were strangely obscured, like something incompletely painted.

    ¡°Well, I guess we should kill goblins until those other things get here,¡± said Dirt, trying to push away the nagging sense of dread.

    Socks crept over to the pile of liquid and sniffed it from a half a body-length away. He looked up into the deflated eye, and Dirt stepped out from under him to look up into it as well. The opening was only about as wide as his shoulders, and Dirt had expected it to be all dark inside but it wasn¡¯t. There was faint light in there, multicolored as if from several sources, and something moved inside it.

    The knife dropped from the hole and landed on the goo with a loud splat and slowly sank into it.

    Socks startled, hopping off his front paws a little in surprise.

    ¡°What?¡± asked Dirt, sneaking back under him.

    -I can¡¯t grab the knife. I can¡¯t reach into that stuff with my mind.-

    ¡°What? Really?¡±

    -Don¡¯t touch it. And don¡¯t stick the Home-staff in there either. It isn¡¯t normal.-

    ¡°Has that ever happened before?¡±

    -Never.-

    An arm thrust out of the hole in the deflated eye, as long as Dirt¡¯s whole body, white and gray like the clouds. Socks leaped back, bringing Dirt with him.

    A head followed, hairless and featureless, then the other arm and shoulders. The whole thing slid out like it was being birthed, falling into the pile of liquid. Once its fall was halted, it righted itself and slid out, rising to its feet.

    Dirt thought it was a particularly tall human at first until he noticed it had no face. It turned its featureless white head to look at them, then stepped forward. Shaped mostly like a human male, the more Dirt saw of it, the more disturbingly wrong it was, from its three-toed feet and hands to the smooth flesh where its sex should have been. A long tail, thick as its thigh, slapped the pile of thick fluid and then whipped it off.

    The goo evaporated, disappearing with surprising speed. Dirt whimpered when he recognized it¡ªthe same stuff he¡¯d been coated in when he woke up. It had to be. He hadn¡¯t thought about that stuff one single time until now, but he¡¯d never forgotten it. He struggled to figure out precisely what it meant.

    The creature stepped toward them, its steps slow but not unsure. It had a presence, so undeniable that Dirt thought he could feel it thickening the air. It reminded him of being near Socks¡¯ parents, even if it felt nothing like theirs. Their presence was the very essence of predation, ferocious and unstoppable. This, on the other hand, was like being in front of the motion that pulled the moon across the sky.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Dirt squeaked out somehow. It didn¡¯t reply, or really do much of anything except take another step. Socks matched it with a step back, hackles raised and a warning growl forming in his huge throat.

    Its mind glowed with hardly any color at all, as if with light his mind¡¯s eye couldn¡¯t completely make out, but Dirt could see its thoughts, such as they were. They were not thoughts that had any reasoning behind them. Instead, it reminded him of the trees, of their senses and processes his mind couldn¡¯t understand. This mind wasn¡¯t completely inhuman, however, and some of it made sense¡ªa heartbeat, muscles moving in regular motion, nerves carrying sensations. If it had any vision, Dirt couldn¡¯t find it. It was like a mind inside out. All the unconscious things where its thinking should happen and its thinking hidden elsewhere.

    Stolen story; please report.

    It did not appear half-dead like the other monstrosities, but neither could Dirt confidently say it was alive. To him, it felt like something that was neither alive, dead, nor in between the two. It was a third thing.

    Socks sent a mental image of violence and death, blood and claws and destruction as only a wolf in a frenzy could cause. He practically screamed it and the armored men quavered, all the way across the battlefield.

    The white-cloud-colored creature paused at the threat, inclining its featureless head slightly. Dirt watched its mind for any reaction, but there was no thought there. Tightening of muscles, nerves delivering sensations in a way that robbed them of all meaning. Not earth beneath its feet or air moving against its hairless skin, but mere pressure.

    It turned and bent down to pick up a dead goblin with one hand, hefting it by the head while its guts dangled all the way to the ground. It seemed to regard it for a moment, then grabbed another one by curling its long, thick tail around the torso, and carried them both.

    Walking over to the ranks of silent goblins, the monstrosity picked up a living one with its free hand. Its cloud-white body contorted, losing definition in its form as it pressed all three little bodies together, living and dead. Dirt felt an expenditure of mana, but accompanying it was a totally new sensation, one that twisted a tiny part of himself he couldn¡¯t name at first. But the trees had told him the shape of his being and he quickly decided this was the final part, the Law, which they had also called Divinity. The monstrosity was reshaping the world on a deeper level than magic, right in front of their eyes.

    Socks and Dirt attacked at the same time. Socks leaped to land on it with his front claws, but somehow Dirt got there first and struck it in the knee with the staff. Instead of cracking the bone like he¡¯d expected, the flesh simply gave way, folding in on itself. The creature¡¯s tail whipped down and struck Dirt across the chest and arms, throwing him backward.

    He lay stunned. The mana should have protected him, but inside him, everything was chaotic and fuzzy. He flexed his arms and sore as they were, they didn¡¯t seem broken. Nor his collarbone. The mana must have helped, but now it was all disrupted and wouldn¡¯t obey him.

    Dirt missed whatever Socks had done right after, but the pup quickly stood over him, snarling protectively. Dirt sat up and watched the white monstrosity rising from the ground, reforming twisted and bent limbs as it did. Socks must have crushed it, to no lasting effect.

    The monstrosity resumed its work, forming the living and dead goblins together into something new. Dirt¡¯s tiny sense of Law stung. Unclarity crept in at the edges of his thoughts and he struggled to understand it. Perhaps the Dream was leaking over, or perhaps it was the Void seeping in while the creature did its work.

    The goblin bodies fused together into a solid, lumpy mass, all sickly green with bits poking out like ears and noses and yellow-clawed fingers. From there the monstrosity pulled and twisted, shaping it like Dirt did with wood. First one leg, then another, but bent like a wolf¡¯s, not a goblins. It took only a moment before the thing was done and dropped its creation, a green humanoid with long, misshapen legs. Its head was three times the size of normal and when it stood and opened it mouth to scream, its mouth was so wide the entire head tilted back, revealing thick rows of sharp, yellow fangs.

    The creation rushed in to attack, moving forward with startling speed. Not faster than Socks could react, though, and the pup took the creation¡¯s entire head in his jaws, dug his front paws into its chest, and ripped it apart.

    Dirt flushed all the mana he had in him, pushing it outside himself to go nowhere at all. For a brief moment he was keenly aware of his desperate vulnerability, like a soldier whose armor had all just fallen off, but fortunately when he inhaled to draw more in, the mana was clean and pure again.

    -It¡¯s time to kill this thing,- said Socks. He reached out mentally for Dirt, who responded in kind, and their minds slid together into one. They split up, readying themselves, and darted forward from different angles.

    A line appeared on the creature¡¯s face where the eyes should be, which opened into a toothless mouth with no tongue. Just an opening. A moment before Dirt and Socks landed their pincer attack, a burst of pressure erupted from the monstrosity¡¯s open mouth that stunned their two bodies so thoroughly the mind meld fell apart.

    Then it turned and slapped Socks across the face with his tail, right along the scar from the tentacle beast that¡¯d torn him open. The pup stumbled and fell, knocked nearly unconscious. Dirt used the opportunity to smash the staff into its hips, hoping to crush the bones so thoroughly it would never get back up. The strike connected and with punishing strength, but Dirt could feel through the staff that nothing had broken. He¡¯d only changed its shape again, temporarily.

    He ducked under the tail swipe he knew was coming, then rolled away from its attempt to grab him with one hand. It strode toward him quickly as Dirt turned and ran, forcing his mind to think instead of succumbing to panic. Crushing it wouldn¡¯t work.

    Spotting his dagger, he sprinted toward it with mana-infused steps. The clear goo had completely dissipated, leaving not even a stain on the ground where it had been. The blade sat there calmly, waiting for him. He grabbed it with one hand, staff in the other, and turned.

    Socks was trying to get up but was having a hard time of it, stumbling and dizzy. His eyes were wild and desperate, unable to quite focus.

    Dirt mentally shouted, ¡°I¡¯m still fine! Don¡¯t panic!¡± But Socks didn¡¯t react, and Dirt wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d heard it.

    ¡°Charge through, men! Run with all haste!¡± shouted the Duke, sword raised. At his command, the armored men began running between the goblins instead of killing them.

    Dirt struggled with that, wondering if he should tell them to keep away. Better to just kill it before they got here. He sprinted forward, low to the ground, then jumped high at the last second, right over a kick aimed at his face. He struck with the dagger, slicing the only flesh that came within his reach¡ªthe shoulder.

    The blade slipped right through so effortlessly that Dirt wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d actually connected until he turned and saw the gash. Bright red blood poured from the wound and ran down its arm in stark contrast to the unearthly white of its skin. The wound tightened and the blood ceased then evaporated completely, leaving the skin bare again.

    In its mind, the monstrosity registered pain, but it was the sharpness of nerves sparking in response and muscles failing. Those sensations decreased as it healed itself.

    Dirt sprinted forward again, blade ready, and this time the creature was hesitant to let him get close. But the boy was faster and it couldn¡¯t back away fast enough. The second slash caught it deeply along the thigh. Dirt hopped over its tail and stabbed upward into its kidneys, twice, then darted away from its grasp.

    As before, the creature bled bright red from its wounds, blood that evaporated as quickly as the wounds closed. Well, there could only be so much blood in there. Dirt would have to just let it all out.

    Socks had his feet now and hung his head, trying to breathe out the effects of being whacked. He stepped forward, desperate to get back in the fight, but Dirt said, ¡°Not yet! Don¡¯t get back in until you¡¯re ready! I¡¯m fine!¡±

    The armored men were making good progress across the field, which was starting to feel awfully small now that it was turning into a time limit.

    Dirt grit his teeth and stepped toward the wary creature, who was now giving him its full attention, and planned his next attack. It came for him first, flying forward through the air arms-first to grab him. It hadn¡¯t used its feet and Dirt wasn¡¯t ready.

    He slashed one hand right through the middle of the wrist and halfway up the forearm, but its other arm shot down for his leg as he was stepping back and he couldn¡¯t react in time. Its three thick fingers closed around his calf and flung him up into the air, leaving him helpless. It spun and swatted him with its tail.

    Dirt blocked with both arms but the tail drove them into his chest hard enough to knock the air out of him. Despite surging mana to protect himself, he felt a bone crack and the force flung him spinning end over end until he crashed into a goblin. Their heads collided and Dirt saw a flash of white and found himself laying on the ground.

    When Dirt could see again, the creature stood over him and was reaching down for his head. Dirt had a vision of himself being fused with a goblin and panicked, rolling away limply.

    A goblin crashed into the creature, knocking it off its feet. The pup picked up another one with his mind, lifted it high in the air, and slammed it down onto the monstrosity before it could get up. Bones cracked, but Dirt couldn¡¯t tell whose. He wasn¡¯t sure the monstrosity had any.

    The pain from cracking his head kept Dirt from concentrating well enough to gather mana efficiently, but he stumbled to his feet anyway. It hurt to think, so he used his mouth to say, ¡°You have to cut it. Get some goblin swords.¡±

    Socks tried fire first, though. He surrounded it with sparks which glowed yellow and orange against its skin before erupting into flame, creating a pillar that roared high above the battlefield and was so hot Dirt nearly had to turn away.

    When the flames vanished, the creature¡¯s scorch-blackened skin sloughed away to reveal muscle, some red and some gray. Dirt realized the outer layers had been cooked. It seemed unfazed, though, and jumped toward Socks, arm drawn for a punch. It was only two-thirds his height, but that was enough to reach the dangerous parts. Socks dodged and ducked away from each of its strikes, his reactions faster than it could move. It followed a punch with a tail swipe and this time, it didn¡¯t even get close.

    Dirt leaned on the staff to try and let the pain subside. His headache decreased, but his broken arm got worse the more he thought about it. It was only cracked, not split in two like Home had done to him, but it still made it hard to close his fingers around the knife.

    The Home-staff quivered. Dirt looked at it and said, ¡°Are you okay, Home? Is everything all right?¡± He suspected the tree was worried about him, not harmed in some way, but he had no way of knowing that. To his surprise, the staff¡¯s shape changed in his hands, refitting itself to cover first his forearm, then his arm and shoulder. She was protecting him.

    Dirt hoped she wasn¡¯t about to encase him in solid wood where nothing could touch him. He was smart enough not to resist, though, and held his arms out and spread his legs a bit to let her do whatever it was she had in mind.

    The wood closed over his torso, then down his hips and legs all the way to his feet. He leaned to the side to lift one foot slightly and the wood closed under it, granting him a shoe. It closed around his head, leaving holes to see and breath through but covering his face otherwise. When it reached his other forearm, it tightened to hold his broken bone in place, which relieved the pain somewhat.

    He could still move, just as well as before. He looked down. Armor. Home had turned the staff into something like armor, with plates of solid wood perfectly fitted around his frame. The joints were flexible material instead of cleverly-interlinked bits, but he suspected they¡¯d be nearly as durable. The armor felt fused to him, holding every inch of skin tightly even while it hindered him in no way.

    Dirt laughed, which made his head sting, but he couldn¡¯t help it. It was simply too delightful to do anything else. Boy-sized wooden armor! Time to find out how tough it was. He gripped the dagger and charged.

 The Druid - Chapter 29

    Running was easier than he expected, with the armor fitting his form so well he may as well have been wearing cloth. It was heavier than anything he was used to, but not enough to slow him down. Especially not with a little mana burning in his legs to speed him forward.

    The monstrosity and Socks danced around each other, seeking blood. The pup snapped and snarled and twisted, his huge body a furry blur. His efforts never got him close enough for a good bite, though, because the creature floated like a leaf on the wind. Each step sent it gliding over the ground, landing only where and when it wished.

    Dirt¡¯s footsteps thumped heavily in the bloody soil. He ran right for it, dagger ready, and jumped in with a scream when he got close enough. It spun and caught his head in its long, white fingers. It lifted and squeezed while Dirt kicked his feet in the air to wriggle loose. The wood helm groaned beneath its grasp as it tried to burst his skull, but held. He stabbed its forearm over and over, puncturing it about twenty times. He butchered it so well blood spurted into his helmet, giving him a taste of dusty sourness before it evaporated, and it was quickly forced to drop him.

    -I can¡¯t touch it with my mind,- said the pup. --Try and get it to stay put so I can hit it with a goblin.-

    ¡°Got it!¡± replied Dirt. He and Socks circled it from different sides. First Socks darted in for a bite, then Dirt, then Socks again, keeping it off-balance. Dirt finally saw his chance when it planted its feet to counterstrike at Socks with its tail. He snuck in and stabbed right through its foot, pinning it to the ground.

    The monstrosity struggled for only a moment before it spun with his dagger as a pivot and kicked him with its heel, right under the ribs. The blow knocked him five paces before he hit the ground and bounced. The blow hadn¡¯t done any damage, though, and to Dirt it felt like the force had been distributed through his whole body instead of just his side. The armor stayed perfectly rigid, protecting him until he came to a stop.

    It ignored the bloody injury in its foot, which was already healing, and evaded as Socks grabbed living goblins one after the other and slammed them down, trying to crush it.

    The Duke and his men burst from the goblin army and into the littered field, immediately taking up position to encircle the creature in a wide arc, which they slowly tightened. They did so silently, now that they were so close, with a somberness that evinced their horror. They communicated with subtle waves and nods, understanding each other almost as well as Dirt and Socks did.

    Dirt grit his teeth, wondering if they¡¯d do any good at all or just get slaughtered, but to his relief, they handled themselves admirably. Although it was half again their size, towering over them and raining down blows with its fists, they blocked or redirected with practiced skill. It occurred to Dirt that it was about as tall as a man on horseback, and they must have trained for that.

    Socks snarled and jumped in at the same time he threw three more goblins. The creature had nowhere to go but into the human lines where it was met with four blades at once. It kicked upward at a man near the Duke, but he braced his sword with his metal gauntlet and drove the blade¡¯s edge into its shin. It bit deep, nearly severing the foot.

    The creature stumbled back, walking unevenly on the stump while its foot dragged behind on a thin flap of flesh. Even then, its mind held no emotion, no thoughts that demonstrated real consciousness. Just biological activity and motion, devoid of reason.

    Dirt gathered up as much fear and revulsion as he could muster, filling his own mind with it, feeling it so strongly it made him nauseous. Once he was ready, he redirected it all into the monstrosity¡¯s mind. He could see the mental attack work and watched the intrusive emotions swirl inside it, but they vanished as quickly as they appeared, leaving him feeling as empty as what he was seeing. So where did it go? All that fear had to go somewhere.

    The armored men stepped forward, keeping their formation steady. It struck down with hammer fists and crushed right through a man¡¯s defense, breaking one arm severely. The armor held the shattered arm in the wrong shape and his agonized scream was ignored by his fellows, who simply stepped around him to press their attack.

    Socks picked up another of the inert living goblins and swiped at the creature sideways, first from one direction and then back again. Dirt took the opportunity to retrieve his dagger while the circle of armored men closed tighter and tighter.

    Finally, Socks hammered it across the head and shoulders with a goblin just as a soldier gave it a deep slash in the thigh. The force drove it front-first into the ground and Socks immediately grabbed another one and slammed it down from above so hard the goblin¡¯s bones cracked loudly.

    For one breath, it lay unmoving. Two breaths. Longer. All the humans looked at each other, eyes wide through the slots on their faceguards. Socks crept up and sniffed it. Dirt would have suspected it was dead as well, but its mind hadn¡¯t winked out. It was still alive as it ever had been.

    The enormous deflated eye hanging in the air, forgotten for a short time, drifted overhead, stopping directly over the monstrosity. The eye skin wriggled, flapping loosely, then suddenly tightened. Its shape morphed and fluctuated. The injured gash in the lens lengthened and the colors of the iris and sclera blended together.

    After only a few heartbeats, the deflated eye had become a mouth with thin, tight lips. The shape was almost human but not quite, and Dirt decided it was because there was no chin. The lips parted and a stream of clear, reddish liquid poured out onto the unmoving monstrosity below. The liquid emptied and its mouth opened wider, revealing a space full of multicolored lights against a white background. The space inside it was not the void¡ªDirt could feel that¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t just another place, either. Something about it felt off to him, like so much else about the monstrosity.

    Socks decided he¡¯d had enough and filled the open mouth with sparks. Dirt hastily created a glowing ember and pressed it into the midst of them. He and Socks surged their mana at the same time and Socks¡¯ flames burst into being with a roar and burned hotter than ever before, fueled by the extra heat from Dirt¡¯s ember and all the mana they both could channel.

    Dirt felt the heat scorching lines on his face through the faceguard. Socks whimpered as it singed his whiskers and the fur around his nose and mouth. It worked¡ªthe flesh of the mouth burned clear away, into black ash that quickly turned gray. It fell apart and drifted on the air like smoke, leaving behind a hole in the sky that was now full of thick smoke.

    The monstrosity pushed itself up and rose to its feet, refitting its twisted limbs with popping sounds. Even its nearly-severed foot slid back into place and re-attached.

    Frustration filled Dirt and he stomped forward until he was right in front of the creature. He swung his arm and shouted, ¡°Just go away!¡± Then for emphasis, he screamed it into the thing¡¯s mind. Over and over, with both mind and voice, growing desperate, ¡°Go away!¡±

    Behind him, Socks stood ready to grab him out of harm¡¯s way at the slightest hint of danger, but it didn¡¯t attack. It didn¡¯t even turn its faceless head in his direction. Above, the hole in the sky trembled and gave a low rumbling sound. It shrank, just a little, and coughed out some of the smoke.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    A hole opened in the monstrosity¡¯s head and the entire creature deflated like it¡¯d been hollow the entire time. Its skin collapsed in a heap, turned brittle, and began flaking apart.

    Overhead, an eyelid closed over the hole in the sky, the same unnatural white as the creature. Once closed, it gained new features, growing eyelashes and wrinkles. It slowly shrank¡ªno, that wasn¡¯t it. It was withdrawing, revealing more of the face. And a face it was, and old man¡¯s face, wrinkled and weary. More of it appeared, a sharp nose, the other eye, a forehead and short hair, a mouth and clean-shaven chin.

    Dirt gasped and nearly fell over when he recognized the face. It was himself, as he used to be. He was gazing up into the sky at his own face, the one he lost, sculpted in flesh of sickly white.

    The Duke and his men gave a fearful murmur tight lines shifting. Socks saw what Dirt was thinking and looked up and down at the two of them in confusion.

    The giant face¡¯s eyes shot open, showing them to be all black and red. It fixed its gaze on Dirt below, its stare penetrating. Its mind showed flickers of awareness now, beyond just the mere senses, which gave Dirt the impression of some great attention drawing near which had been previously distant.

    ¡°Please go away,¡± he said, his voice soft. Then he said again in his mind, ¡°Please go away.¡±

    The face remained unmoving, its expression blank, and Dirt wondered if maybe it was just going to stay there forever, or follow him around from now on watching everything he did. He looked back at Socks, pleading for an idea. The pup had none.

    Dirt¡¯s old man face opened its mouth and spoke, its voice sounding like a grinding moan. ¡°Avitus Numitorius Urbanus,¡± it said. ¡°Avitus Numitorius Urbanus.¡±

    Was he looking at himself? Did he split off and become multiple things? Was this an echo of what he¡¯d done so long ago? Something else entirely? It was himself up there, his own lost face, speaking his own lost name, and it might have broken his heart if it wasn¡¯t so terrifying. It saw him, little Dirt standing there in his wooden armor, and knew him. It recognized him.

    No, it wasn¡¯t himself. It wasn¡¯t a part of him. There was something alien in its mind, something inhuman. Not just natural processes, muscles and sight and so on. Whatever mind drove it was there, lurking and knowing as if from behind a veil.

    ¡°You found me,¡± said Dirt, at a loss.

    ¡°Avitus Numitorius Urbanus,¡± it said again, its groaning voice so great the earth trembled beneath him. But what it meant, or what it understood about him, Dirt couldn¡¯t tell.

    The face froze again, losing all animation and staring blankly, its eyes still fixed on him. A crack appeared from chin to forehead, then another and another, and the whole thing shattered like glass. Dirt crouched down instinctively, but no pieces of it hit the ground.

    The mind behind it withdrew, its light fading as it departed. The last thing Dirt beheld was a word imbued with magical significance. A word of command that manifested into the world. A sage¡¯s word. ¡°Disperse.¡±

    The goblins snapped out of their collective coma and the field erupted in a wild tumult as they scrambled over each other to flee. The Duke and his startled men seemed relieved to have a more reasonable enemy to fight as they roared in fury and resumed killing as many as possible.

    -Did you see that at the end?- asked Socks, standing plainly while he thought.

    ¡°Yeah. The word ¡®disperse¡¯, you mean?¡±

    -Yes.-

    ¡°That¡¯s the thing you¡¯re curious about? Not my old face appearing in the sky and saying my old name?¡±

    -That word was in your language.-

    Dirt reconsidered and realized Socks was right. It wasn¡¯t a word of pure thought and magic, like the dryads had taught him to shape wood or call wind. It was a word like a person might say aloud, like a human mind might have in it, but given magical significance. That might have been a more interesting thing to ponder if his mind didn¡¯t keep returning to his own old face, appearing in all his thoughts like a waking nightmare.

    Socks leaned down with his tongue out in a licking posture, and Home saw it and got the idea. She withdrew the armor, leaving only a brace around his cracked forearm instead of a staff. The pup licked him furiously, sending him puffs of affection. -It¡¯ll be okay, little Dirt.-

    Dirt found himself hard to comfort. That thing had created a new horror right in front of their eyes, fusing living and dead into a murderous abomination. Was that him, somehow? Or was he responsible for it, at least? And the tentacle monster. That frightful thing in the sky that wore his face and knew his name, had it created them all?

    It occurred to him that not only had he broken the world, but he might have created or unleashed or allowed in something that was slowly erasing humanity in general, wearing them down bit by bit. Maybe sometimes it used goblins and monsters, and other times, who knew? Bad weather? The guilt grew in him, mixed with the horror still running thick in his blood, and overcame him. His child¡¯s body couldn¡¯t contain it and he wept, hanging his head. His tears mixed with the coating of slaver Socks was giving him.

    Socks picked him up with his mind, gently folded him into a fetal position, and held him close against the front of his chest, just under his neck where he could bend his head down to envelop Dirt in fur.

    -Whatever happened, you didn¡¯t do it on purpose. Don¡¯t feel bad, little Dirt. Don¡¯t be sad. It was a long time ago.-

    ¡°How many humans did I kill, Socks? And how many are still dying because of me? All the humans think they¡¯re about to die out and they¡¯re probably right and it¡¯s my fault.¡±

    -Good thing you came back just in time to save them, then.-

    ¡°But I¡¯m just¡­¡± thought Dirt, starting to argue. But what stopped him was the honest recognition that he might already be the strongest human alive. If anyone could, he¡¯d have to. And Socks would help, and he was worth an entire kingdom of humans all by himself. Or more. He tried to comfort himself with that thought, cementing it with resolve. ¡°You¡¯re right. I have to figure it out, and then I have to fix it.¡±

    -Good. That¡¯s the right thing to think. It¡¯ll be okay in the end.-

    Despite this, Dirt felt only slightly better and it took him a bit longer to get all the tears out. When they were finally drained, Socks put him down and gave him one last lick for good measure. -You¡¯re almost clean again.-

    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll have to do something about that. Are those other things still coming from the hills? The big ones?¡± said Dirt, feigning a total recovery that hadn¡¯t happened yet.

    -No, they dispersed too.-

    ¡°Okay. Good. I bet I can kill more goblins than you.¡±

    Socks huffed, as close to laughing as he ever got. -You will need more than a dagger for that.-

    Together they sprinted into the fleeing goblins and lay them waste alongside the Duke and his men. Dirt fought with vigor sufficient to sweat out all the evil he¡¯d taken in and even through a fresh coating of blood, he felt cleaner somehow. The Duke¡¯s men felt it too, their weariness and fear and hesitation fading as they lost themselves in a task they could understand.

    The goblins made little attempt to protect themselves except to scramble over each other in their haste to flee, but they were such a tangled mess that only the ones on the far edge had any hope of escaping. Sometimes they¡¯d turn around at the last second and lash out in desperation, but to no avail.

    The work of slaughter continued long after that, until the armored men were being outrun by individual goblins and finally sat to enjoy a well-earned rest. Socks and Dirt considered chasing down more of them, but they were too spread out. They went to sit by the armored men instead.

    Dirt had Home make him water and held his forearm brace over his head to let it pour in. Seeing that, the Duke removed his helmet, signaling the true end of the battle. His men followed his lead and looked thirsty, so Dirt went around giving them water to drink, starting with the Duke himself.

    They laughed and patted his bottom with their gauntleted hands, or gave exaggerated sighs of refreshment, or some such thing, and Dirt enjoyed himself tremendously and laughed right along with them. Socks stepped along right beside him, and the men patted his legs as he passed, which he allowed.

    The Duke watched slyly until Dirt had made it to every last man, ensuring no one was left out, then stood again and announced, ¡°We¡¯d better get out of this armor so our pages can clean it, before the smiths band together to have me beheaded.¡±

    The men laughed and stood. They walked across the wide field, strewn with hundreds of reeking goblin corpses, and made their way back home. Socks and Dirt led the group, happy and tired. Socks picked up the man whose arm was twisted in his armor and straightened it back out with his mind. Despite being careful, the poor soldier passed out from pain. He¡¯d get better, though, and so would all the injured from before.

    For now, the town was safe. The battle might be over for the Duke and his men, at least the big one. It wasn''t over for Dirt, though. His was just starting.

 The Druid - Chapter 30 - Volume II End

    ¡°Okay, Socks, go dunk again!¡± yelled Dirt, grinning. The crowd of children screamed and laughed as Socks rose and jumped back in the river, sending a huge wave crashing up over the riverbank to soak them again. The big pup submerged himself out in the middle where it was deepest, then climbed back out, water pouring off him in sheets. He stood next to the eager crowd and shook, flinging so much water around it may as well have been a thunderstorm.

    The children all laughed and danced away as if they didn¡¯t really want to get wet, but it was a ruse. Dirt screamed and evaded right along with them. Socks finally squatted down on the paved landing and his new friends got to work, loud and boisterous all the while. They scrubbed and wiped with dozens of brushes and rags while others splashed more water on with little buckets, but not in an amount that could do any good. It didn¡¯t matter, though, because it was fun.

    Dirt hadn¡¯t had to do a lot of convincing after the Duke asked for volunteers. The man simply had to declare that the children should do it, since Socks was a child himself, and the town¡¯s brood had rushed forward to volunteer like mice scared out of the bushes.

    Now a horde of them scrambled up Socks¡¯ back or snuggled against the side of his belly to reach as high as they could. Some ran along his tail, getting the whole length with one scrub. When they got too much grime or fur stuck to themselves, they dunked in the river and ran right back as fast as they could. A cadre of girls had claimed all the open spots around Socks¡¯ face; they were the gentlest of the bunch, and the most doting. For his part, Socks closed his eyes and looked as content as Dirt had ever seen him.

    It seemed everyone in town had wanted to come watch the blood get cleaned out of Socks¡¯ fur. The half-circle area the adults left them had started a lot narrower at first, until Socks shook the water out the first time. They¡¯d been too close and it showed in all the red and pink spots on their clothing. But no risk of clothing stain would keep them away, even those who had no offspring in the tumult. It was a novelty they¡¯d likely never see again and anyone who could squeeze in to watch, did so.

    None of the children knew who Dirt was other than ¨¨lia and M¨¤xim. And while M¨¤xim stayed close, ¨¨lia preferred girls her own age and all but ignored him. To everyone else, he was just another face in the crowd. He could fit into any cluster just by smiling and joining in with whatever the others were doing. There was no waiting for them to get used to him, or trying to act the right way, or any of that.

    A boy his size even leaned in close to tell him, ¡°The wolf has a human with him. I think I know who it is!¡± He was wrong, of course, and M¨¤xim had laughed and given Dirt a conspiratorial grin. The other boy hadn¡¯t caught on.

    Dirt didn¡¯t stand out, either, since he had a good tan from riding on Socks¡¯ back for the last few weeks. Most of them had dark brown hair, not black like Marina¡¯s, and his was only a shade paler than average. There were some exceptions to the norm, too¡ªeven a few blond-haired children with lots of freckles. If anyone noticed Home in the shape of a cast on his arm, they didn¡¯t mention it.

    All in all, it meant Dirt could relax completely. No careful speech or thinking, no hoping he wasn¡¯t doing something wrong. No, he could be himself in a way that had previously only been possible when he and Socks were alone. All this laughter made him feel as clean inside as he was outside.

    After Socks looked as clean as he was going to get, the crowd of children dried him off, fluffing his fur with an absurd quantity of towels that had appeared from somewhere, in every size and color. Socks rolled, carefully, to one side or the other to make sure they got all of him, from paws to whiskers. Dirt suspected the sunlight dried him out more than all the towels did, but who cared?

    Once that was done, the adults presented about twenty rakes and distributed them to the taller children. Dirt didn¡¯t get one, which amused him and M¨¤xim terribly, but ¨¨lia did. They commenced combing him, and Socks enjoyed that the most since it felt like getting scratched all over.

    Socks finally stood, thoroughly pampered and unsure what was next. He towered over the children and remembered not to wag his tail too hard this time. Dirt yelled, ¡°Can I have a ride? And him?¡±

    The pup caught on instantly and said, --You want a ride? Who else wants to come?-

    ¡°Maybe some will want to go slow, and some fast,¡± said Dirt. ¡°But I want to go fast, and so does he.¡± M¨¤xim looked less eager than Dirt did, but he didn¡¯t argue.

    An older boy stepped forward, then a girl about their age, and Socks decided that was enough for the first go and lifted them onto his back with his mind. Dirt loudly squealed his excitement to put the others at ease, then helped them all squeeze together and hunker down.

    -Hold tight anyway and keep your heads down,- said Socks, and with that, he was off. A great leap carried him across the river where the crowd was small enough for him to land, and from there, he raced down the nearest street. The children screamed in wild terror and held on as hard as they could, which made Dirt squeal with laughter. He knew that feeling.

    Socks ran all the way out to the wall, jumped over it, and then back again. Then back up the street and across the river, and then it was over, as quickly as it began. He squatted down to let his passengers slide off, which they did with wide eyes and unsure expressions.

    Poor M¨¤xim was unsteady on his feet and leaned against Dirt¡¯s shoulder for support. ¡°You do that all the time? That fast?¡± he whispered.

    ¡°Yeah. You get used to it,¡± whispered Dirt back.

    The ashen faces of the first set of wolf-riders did nothing to dissuade the next bunch, and Socks picked up five more and gave them the same path. They screamed as soon as Socks leaped, and Dirt listened with increasing amusement at how their voices faded against the city. Finally, someone else knew what that was like!

    After a few more groups of those, Socks picked up about fifteen of the littlest ones and gave them a much slower ride around the plaza. He performed gentle leaps across the river and back and set them all down, where they started cheering and hopping and begging for another ride. But it was time for the next group, and the next, and then a few more rides for the braver children who wanted to go again. Both M¨¤xim and ¨¨lia were among those, although Dirt stayed behind to leave a spot open for someone else.

    Socks was enjoying himself tremendously, as anyone could plainly tell without even looking at his mind. But Dirt did look, and Socks was as lost in the reverie of play as everyone else. The children collectively produced a great deal of mental happiness which infused the pup and washed away every external concern. It might not be as good as playing with a few dozen of his own kind, but it was close.

    The Duke waved and said something to one of his servants, and a moment later parents came to collect their children, getting them all dressed again, or if they were already dressed, replacing the wet clothing with dry. M¨¤xim took Dirt by the hand and pulled him through the crowd to a spot near his father where two servants were waiting.

    The two boys were then dressed in finery, cloth so soft it almost felt like fur, with a bold red color that caught the sunlight and seemed to glow. It was made of strips of fabric and the seams made decorative lines from top to bottom. The pants were tight and the shirt poofed out around the waist under a sash that served as a decorative belt. Dirt was given shoes with pointed toes and even a little lace scarf to tie around his neck. If he and M¨¤xim weren¡¯t exactly the same size, it seemed they were close enough.

    Finally they were presented to the Duke and Duchess, and the pair smiled their approval. The Duke said, ¡°Today we have seen you attired in two very different types of red.¡±

    The Duchess smirked slyly and added, ¡°And this type will do less damage to the carpets and furniture.¡±

    Ignasi told Socks, ¡°They would have loved nothing more than to present you with something charming to wear, but they had nothing in your size.¡±

    -They could have given me a little hat,- he replied, wagging his tail in amusement.

    ¡°Then a hat you shall have,¡± said the Duchess. She plucked the feathered cap from her mate¡¯s head and beckoned Socks to lean down. The pup complied, lying all the way down, and the Duchess reached up to set it between his ears. She fastened it to his fur with a wooden clip she pulled from her own hair, releasing one lock to tumble onto her shoulder, and stood back.

    Socks knew how silly he looked with that tiny little hat on his enormous head, but he thought it was as funny as Dirt did and pranced around a bit to show off. The humans weren¡¯t quite sure whether he was serious, though, so when Marina clapped instead of laughing, the others followed suit.

    Dirt slipped over to the Duke and suggested, ¡°He might like something to hold bags on, like a harness with pockets, maybe.¡±

    The Duke nodded and leaned over to the nearest servant, an older man with pale hair. ¡°Go tell my saddler to find a couple harness-makers and see what they can come up with. Tell them not to be shy about coming to take measurements.¡±

    The servant nodded and slipped away toward the palace.

    -Okay, I am done with the hat. If I keep wearing it they will put it in the painting,- said Socks. He leaned down and the Duchess collected the hat again, plucked a couple hairs from it, then set it back on the Duke¡¯s head.

    From there they made a grand procession back into the palace. There were no armored guards this time, since most of them had done all the fighting they needed to for the day, but a new set of city soldiers had taken their place. Which was fortunate, because it took all of them to hold the crowds back from getting any closer and coming to peep in all the windows.

    The Duke¡¯s company returned to the large hall, with Socks sliding under the doorways as before. This time, someone clever had taken long ropes and made rings around all the cushions, gathering them together into a tighter-packed bed. Socks sped right to it, sniffed twice, walked around it in a circle, then lay down and snuggled in.

    -This is better,- he said. -The cushions aren¡¯t sliding away anymore.-

    Instead of food, the table held some neatly-arranged scrolls, which Dirt hadn¡¯t expected, as well as some rectangular objects he didn¡¯t recognize. He stepped over and picked one up and discovered that it was two hard plates full of sheets of paper, all full of writing.

    ¡°These are all the texts I own that contain the ancient tongue. Those scrolls are ageless and, if the scholars are to be believed, may date back to the days of the lost empire itself,¡± said the Duke. ¡°I thought you might like to see them, and perhaps answer a few questions about how they should be read.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but what¡¯s this?¡± asked Dirt, holding up the object.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ let me see.¡± The Duke took it from Dirt¡¯s hands and looked at the thin edge where all the papers were fastened together. ¡°The Acts of the Emperors from Justinian the First to Claudius the Seventh,¡± he read. ¡°It¡¯s a history from, as far as we can tell, some of the final emperors. All their reigns were short. Very interesting.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean, what is it? What do you call this thing?¡± said Dirt, taking it back and waving it.

    ¡°The book?¡± asked the Duke. ¡°Do you mean the book?¡±

    ¡°Is that what this is? What¡¯s it for?¡±

    The Duke took it and opened it, showing the words. He said, ¡°Scrolls are more difficult to read, if you wish to read from different sections one after the other. You must roll and unroll to find your spot and it can take time. A book is slices of a scroll, arranged in order. I can read from here,¡± he said, showing an early page, ¡°and then skip right to here if I want. You¡­ can read, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I can read it. Especially if it¡¯s in my language. What do you want me to read?¡± asked Dirt. He took the book back, marveling at what a clever concept it was and wondered why his people had never come up with it.

    ¡°Anything to start. I¡¯d like to hear the sound of the ancient tongue.¡±

    Dirt flipped to a random page and read, in his language, ¡°¡­which came in those days. The peoples of the southern tribes of that island have red hair and wear tunics of wool, which they dye with local plants in delightful patterns, some of which have been copied in our own embroidery. They herd cattle and sheep but not pigs, owing to the harshness of the winters. Even the land around the beaches is frigid during the darker seasons. They do not have chickens, since they must eat all the grain they grow themselves, and do not like the taste when offered any. Their farms are unimpressive, as is their architecture. They are given to dancing at every opportunity and will drink heavily if they can find any alcohol. Their wine is made of whatever is on hand and never tastes the same twice, unless they acquired some of ours through barter. Indeed, if not for the hardiness of their men, caused surely by the climate, they should never have been a threat to Emperor Astimus¡¯ new colonies in the slightest, nor required the three thousand pikes and four hundred cavalry, which he sent¡­¡±

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Dirt stopped when he reached the end of the page. The room had gone silent, even the servants, as everyone strained to listen. He shyly said, ¡°Should I keep going?¡±

    ¡°Remarkable,¡± said the Duke. ¡°He reads as fluently in his tongue as I do in mine.¡±

    -Dirt is very clever,-- said Socks. -You should not be surprised.-

    ¡°I say so only because my M¨¤xim can¡¯t read so sweetly, and he is taught by learned men every day. Dirt grew up alone in a forest. I cannot fathom it,¡± said the Duke. ¡°And did you understand every word of that, Dirt?¡±

    ¡°Of course. It¡¯s my own language. How about you?¡±

    ¡°It says they are given to tripudium. What is that?¡± asked the Duke.

    ¡°In your tongue it¡¯s dancing.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± said the Duke. His eyes sparkled with undeniable eagerness. ¡°How about plumarius?¡±

    ¡°Embroidery,¡± answered Dirt.

    The Duke turned to H¨¨ctor and said, ¡°And he couldn¡¯t speak our tongue at all when you met him? Are you certain?¡±

    ¡°Just a few words is all, your Grace. He learned more every hour we were with him,¡± said H¨¨ctor.

    ¡°Do you remember the first thing he said that you understood?¡± asked the Duke.

    ¡°Of course,¡± said H¨¨ctor. ¡°Still gives me nightmares. He told a gryphon ¡®nice bird¡¯ and calmed it down.¡±

    The Duke nodded, but his mind wasn¡¯t on the gryphon. That didn¡¯t seem to have registered. ¡°So quickly he learns. If I wake tomorrow and this entire day has been a dream inspired by bad bread, I will be less surprised than if I wake up and it truly happened.¡±

    He poked at a few scrolls, then found the one he was looking for. He unrolled the opening, nodded, and handed it to Dirt.

    Dirt recognized it immediately from the art at the top¡ªit depicted a two-headed snake with wings, curled around a sphere that represented the sky. ¡°Oh, wow!¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± asked the Duke.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! But I know what it is!¡±

    ¡°Can you read it? No one has been able to. Not a single scholar of any age since the time that produced it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s just a simple cypher. Everyone who¡­ we could all read this. Everyone that¡­¡± Dirt looked up, eyes losing focus while his mind spun trying to fill in the gaps in his memory. He was so close!

    No one said anything, so he read aloud. ¡°I, Pacritus, do write and bless this scroll to preserve it. I write it in the hidden way of the order, which none shall read who are not initiated. Guard well its wisdom, reader, if a reader there be. I fear that I create a paradox¡ªI preserve that which is being forgotten, that it may endure. But perhaps none shall read it in all the ages to come, and its knowledge be reduced to mere ink and paper, devoid of reason. An object, like a chair or ball, which signifies nothing beyond its form. It has been eighty-eight years since the failure of Avitus Numitorius Urbanus, may his cursed name be blighted into eternities even as they forget who he was, by which he ruined the Sunset Empire and invited the calamity that has destroyed so much, and my last apprentice is now¡­¡±

    Dirt glanced up in surprise, but no one other than Socks and the Duke had understood the words, and only Socks knew their true significance. Dirt coughed politely and rolled through the scroll. His disquiet quickly turned to excitement as he recognized what he was holding.

    He stopped at a diagram about a quarter of the way in and grinned so widely he almost laughed. He turned the scroll and showed it to everyone. ¡°See, it¡¯s a basic primer on magic. This is a method for purifying water, in case a well or river runs unclean. They wrote it with a cypher so no one could learn their secret who wasn¡¯t supposed to.¡±

    The Duke nodded sagely, even as his twitching eyebrows betrayed his roiling thoughts. ¡°I see,¡± he said. ¡°And that must be why it survived so long. There are sixty-eight known undecaying scrolls, and only two that we can¡¯t read. The other is in the possession of The King. I don¡¯t suppose¡­¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°You want me to show you how it works?¡±

    ¡°I do. Please.¡±

    ¡°Sure. I want to try it anyway. Can I have some chalk? And a glass of something that isn¡¯t water?¡±

    Marina took a half-bottle of wine from Ignasi¡¯s back pocket and presented it with a smirk. It was only a moment until a servant returned with a block of chalk about the size of Dirt¡¯s fist.

    Dirt copied the pattern onto the table, pleased with how easily it came to him. He could¡¯ve drawn it in his sleep with his toes if he wanted to, now that he¡¯d seen it. He knew right where to put everything, and the diagram explained well enough that he knew why it was drawn that way. This part signified ¡®to purify¡¯ and this other part indicated a particular kind of change, while that part meant ¡®to move¡¯, and so on. Satisfied, he placed the wine in the symbol that indicated the target and let some mana trickle from his fingertip into the shape on the table.

    The effect was immediate. The wine swirled as the room held their breath and watched through the pale glass of the bottle. The liquid lost its dark color, first in strands and then completely. Then it was over. Dirt picked up the bottle and took a little swallow, then handed it to the Duke. ¡°See? Water.¡±

    It was such a simple display, but Dirt was only maintaining his composure through sincere force of will. He wanted to scream and cheer and run around in a circle because he¡¯d found human magic! This was his art, his real art, from when he was an old man. Knowing it was real and that it was his again felt as glorious as sunlight, as soothing as springwater. He¡¯d forgotten it existed, but here it was, one of the things he loved most in the world.

    ¡°Do you mind if I take some time and read this?¡± asked Dirt, not really waiting for an answer. He walked over to Socks, where he curled up and started the scroll over from the beginning.

    ¡ª-

    Two days later, Dirt placed his hand on the gate-door and looked back one last time at the huge crowd that had come to bid him and Socks farewell. For one brief moment they had fallen quiet, and after all the clamor they¡¯d been causing up to now, his ears were ringing faintly.

    He shrugged and turned back to the gate. No reason to put it off any longer. Shrink, he told the gate-door, causing it to withdraw the tendrils bracing it against the stone and shrink back down to normal size, or at least, as close as Dirt could estimate. It just had to fit the frame, and all he had to do was watching the little gaps between the stones disappear, then make the door just a little smaller than that.

    Workmen stepped beside him, some bringing ladders, all of them with hammers and awls and other tools. Fresh hinges had been made, nice big sturdy ones, and a new set of lock-bars had been planed and reinforced.

    Dirt moved back to give them room, smiling slightly to himself that the crowd wasn¡¯t sure when to start cheering again. The workmen hadn¡¯t given them the chance, but that was at the Duke¡¯s order. It wouldn¡¯t do to have everyone standing around like empty chairs waiting for the door to work again.

    Quicker than expected, the hinges were replaced and the door swung open. A bit too hard¡ªthe balance was off. Oh well. They could fix that later.

    Socks stepped through, ducking his head only slightly to keep from brushing his ears. He turned around and sniffed Dirt, then looked at the crowd.

    Dirt waved and the crowd lining the streets erupted back into riotous cheering. Some played horns or harps, others banged pots, and everyone else clapped and shouted. It really was a lot of noise, Dirt decided. It was loud to begin with, but after it all echoed off the buildings and walls and added together, it was making his ears hurt.

    The Duke stepped in close, making a little circle with the Duchess, the two children, and H¨¨ctor, Marina, and Ignasi. None of them could come, and Dirt knew he¡¯d miss them. For now. They¡¯d meet again.

    ¡°Thanks for letting us stay in your city, my Lord,¡± said Dirt. He had to get so close to the Duke¡¯s ear to be heard that he may as well have been kissing his cheek.

    ¡°Thank you for saving it. I look forward to your return. I know M¨¤xim will be crying tonight, having made a little friend who is leaving too soon,¡± said the Duke, right into his ear as well. The man¡¯s mustache tickled Dirt¡¯s cheek. As if on cue, poor M¨¤xim wiped a tear from his eye before it could drip down. Or maybe just some dust, to be fair. Only a few days, and they already felt as close as brothers. Dirt squeezed around the Duke to give the boy another quick hug.

    Then turning back to the Duke, he said, ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be back in two years or so and I¡¯ll teach him like I promised.¡±

    ¡°I believe you, or I would not have let you take my scroll, giant wolf notwithstanding,¡± said the Duke, his eyes sparkling.

    Dirt gave the man a hug, then the Duchess, Marina, Ignasi, H¨¨ctor, and ¨¨lia. That was about everybody. Dirt stepped back and waved one last time. Hundreds waved back.

    That was it, then. Time to leave, and hopefully the town could survive until Dirt made it back. He¡¯d only been here a few days, but it¡¯d still break his heart to come back and find it deserted.

    The Duke had promised to send raids on goblins and hunt them out instead of just waiting and hiding, so that was something. Waiting and hiding hadn¡¯t worked, and now it was a close thing whether they¡¯d be able to farm enough to feed themselves before the food stores ran out. Socks had said to just eat the goblins they hunted and the Duke was so disgusted by that he turned faintly green. Well, if they got hungry enough, they¡¯d get over it. But maybe Dirt could meet the King and have more food sent down the river before that happened.

    He¡¯d done everything he could for them for now. Or had he? Just as he was about to hop on Socks¡¯ back to leave, he spun on his heels and beckoned the Duke to lean in again. ¡°I just thought of something. Can you come meet me at those grain fields? The ones over that way, around the wall a bit? Get a horse and we¡¯ll meet you there. You can bring the others, but not too many people. You¡¯ll see why.¡±

    The Duke nodded, and Dirt waved a final farewell to the town. He hopped on Socks and sent a quick mental image of where he had in mind, a large fallow field with only a few stalks of grain, which they¡¯d passed just before reaching the city.

    Socks didn¡¯t particularly hurry to get there and the Duke and his company arrived just after Dirt and Socks did, with the Duchess and children, Marina, Ignasi, H¨¨ctor, two servants, and three soldiers. For him, that was a small entourage.

    Dirt slid off Socks and said, ¡°I¡¯m going to feel pretty silly if this doesn¡¯t work. Okay, just watch.¡±

    He calmed his breathing and mind, quieting down everything in his internal world. He knelt and touched the ground, his fingers brushing against one of the lonely stalks of wheat. He filled his mind with the Devourer¡¯s command, whose impossible vastness he could never hope to match. But he¡¯d seen how it made the forest grow, and the idea was the same. Ideas were just ideas. Magic was magic. The world was the world.

    He filled himself to bursting with mana, more than he could hold without it leaking out on its own.

    GROW.

    His command poured forth through the soil and into the stalks of grain, and they began to spread and multiply. New growth sprouted from the earth¡ªfirst as tiny green buds, then full stalks of wheat that matured and turned yellow. The growth spread across the field, slowly at first and then with more purpose and force as Dirt¡¯s bodies grew into greater harmony. His mana vessel became a gateway through which the world of magic entered. His spirit reshaped that power into physical being. It burned him raw, stinging and aching in every part of himself. Even the dream body made itself known and Dirt suspected he¡¯d have unquiet rest until it recovered.

    But it was enough. Soon he stood on unsteady feet and opened his eyes. Golden wheat, all of it ripe and ready for harvest, filled not just the field he¡¯d planned but the neighboring ones as well. Even the road was now hidden, leaving the small group of stunned humans standing with nowhere to go.

    Dirt smiled, trying not to look too pleased with himself. Dignified like the Duke, he said, ¡°Alright. Now you don¡¯t have to worry about food as much. I don¡¯t know if you have time to grow any more before winter, but that should help.¡± He leaned back and almost lost his balance, still dizzy, and Socks propped him up with his mind.

    ¡°This is a miracle,¡± said the Duke, breathless.

    ¡°I wish it was. Maybe the gods will be back someday,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I guess this will¡ª¡±

    His arm twitched. The brace on his forearm, Home, was trying to get his attention. He looked down and saw a thin pole which grew until it was about the length of his leg, so long he had to hold it with his other hand. But then its top sprouted into a tuft of little branches that filled with tiny green leaves. The bottom separated from the brace as twisty roots grew out of the wood, and finally it came away in his hand.

    Dirt looked at its mind and saw the pure light of new birth. ¡°A baby tree!¡± he shouted aloud in pure amazement. ¡°Socks, help me dig a little hole! Hurry, before it dries out! Where should we put it? Closer to the wall. Let¡¯s hurry!¡±

    The Duke saw his panic and stepped forward to see what was the matter. He put his hand on the baby tree as if to take it away, thinking it a gift, but Dirt pulled it back. They ran together past the grain and out into untended area somewhat closer to town, looking for a nice spot to plant it. Somewhere with good soil, not too close or too far from the river, somewhere it would be safe. The area around the walls was all plains, though, and no spot was better than any other to Dirt¡¯s eyes. The Duke¡¯s group followed, still amazed.

    -Here,- said Socks. -The dirt here smells a little damper than the rest.- With one claw, he dug a hole big enough to plant the tree.

    With trembling fingers, Dirt placed the precious infant in its little cradle, standing her as straight as he could measure and filling the hole back in to cover the roots. He sent her tiny, awakening mind happy thoughts, words expressed in pure feeling. Hello. Welcome. I love you.

    Then, aloud, he said, ¡°Home, can you find her? Is she connected?¡± Only a moment later, Home made the brace vibrate on his arm, and looking at the little tree¡¯s mind, he saw they¡¯d found her. She was part of the forest now, connected to her own kind.

    ¡°That is a lovely tree, Dirt. Thank you, but why?¡± asked the Duchess, hardly sure of what to even ask.

    Marina knelt and gently traced her fingers along the little trunk and tiny branches, her dark eyes wide with awe. She looked at Dirt, questioning, and said, ¡°This is an even greater gift than the grain, your Grace. Even greater than that.¡±

    Dirt turned and addressed the Duchess. ¡°This isn¡¯t from me. This is¡­ this is one of my trees. From the forest I lived in. You have to take good care of her! Even put a guard here, until she¡¯s strong enough. Someday, when she¡¯s big and strong, she¡¯ll be a blessing like you wouldn¡¯t believe. But only if she loves you, and you love her,¡± said Dirt. His mind was split between trying to explain and watching in awe as the darling little thing began exploring its mysterious tree world. ¡°And she¡¯ll know. The trees are smart. Aren¡¯t they, Marina?¡±

    ¡°I suppose they are,¡± the woman muttered.

    ¡°So the city has a tree now, like in your stories?¡± asked the Duchess.

    ¡°No.¡± said Dirt. He stood and grinned. He checked Socks¡¯ fancy new shoulder harness and made sure all the bags were closed. Everything was fine. Of course it was. He was quickly starting to feel rather poorly, and not just from magical exertion. He wanted to stay instead. A baby tree, his new friend M¨¤xim, and so much else to be leaving behind. Sleeping in a bed, eating human food. But it was time to go because Socks had to keep moving.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s better to say the tree has a city now. Alright, Socks, let¡¯s go see the King,¡± said Dirt. He hopped onto the pup¡¯s back, and together they sped with eager curiosity across the wide fields into the welcome unknown.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 1

    APPROACH, said Father. Socks lowered his head, ducked his tail, and crept forward on unsteady paws.

    Dirt held his breath from the top of the tree, trying to gently shake a few more of the red-and-yellow leaves out of the way so he could get a better view. This was it. Socks would now live or die based on Father¡¯s approval.

    One of Socks¡¯ older siblings, a female, reached her nose forward as he passed her, and he shyly touched it with his, his tail twitching in a hidden wag. But he didn¡¯t stop moving forward, and the other three ignored him, pointedly looking elsewhere. Dirt suspected they¡¯d be more friendly after seeing if Socks would get eaten.

    Socks reached Father and the scarred, black wolf towered over him like a mountain. From where Dirt was watching, little Socks looked like a pygmy species compared with his sire, not just a child. Father leaned down his great head to sniff his pup and Socks whimpered, a heart-wrenching, pleading sound that Dirt almost never heard.

    The pup gave a timid, playful little hop with just his front legs and reached his nose up to meet Father¡¯s, licking his snout, then fell to his back to expose his stomach. I love you, please accept me, I submit to you, Socks was saying in the language of wolves.

    Father growled and bared his teeth, and Socks whimpered, pawing at the air. The sound of Father¡¯s growl was so shocking to Dirt¡¯s basest instincts that he nearly lost his grip on the branch and fell out of the tree.

    GET UP AND GIVE ME AN ACCOUNTING OF YOURSELF, commanded Father. Socks rolled over to his belly and sat up, head still halfway to the ground as he looked upward with pleading eyes.

    Socks must not have started quickly enough, because Father said, ARE YOU TOO COWARDLY TO SPEAK WITHOUT YOUR PET?

    -That¡¯s not it,- said Socks. From across the valley, his mental voice was on the quiet side, but Dirt could still hear it. The pup was probably doing that on purpose. Dirt didn¡¯t dare open his mental sight right now, not with Father so close.

    WHAT IS THAT YOU HAVE ON? HAVE YOU BEEN TAMED? asked Father, his voice more threatening than lightning strikes.

    -I wanted it, so some humans made it for me. I am wearing a harness, but I am not harnessed. Sometimes I like to carry things. Its purpose is to give me pockets,- said Socks, sounding gentle and conciliatory.

    SHOW ME WHAT YOU HAVE IN THERE.

    Socks¡¯ ears twitched eagerly and he turned his head to look at the pockets on either side of his harness. He pulled out their contents with his mind, circling them around himself in the air. He couldn¡¯t help but wag his tail as he explained, -This is a big bone that I like to chew on. It¡¯s from a bull. This is a ball of metal the humans gave me. It¡¯s called iron and I use it to hit things. This is a rock I found, and I Iike it because it¡¯s so square. I wear it on the other side to balance out the metal ball. The Duchess gave me this necklace, and it has a special rock called an emerald. This is Dirt¡¯s backpack and it has his clothes and a scroll in it. I only carry it sometimes. This is a flower that had lots of bees on it, and I wanted to see if they would follow it. They didn¡¯t. It¡¯s drying out now. This is a red leaf, which I kept because I didn¡¯t know they did that when autumn comes. This is a rake that Dirt uses to brush my fur and scratch me whenever I want.-

    WHY ARE YOU CARRYING AROUND GARBAGE?

    -None of this is garbage.-

    A WOLF NEEDS NONE OF THOSE THINGS.

    -I still want them anyway. They are fun. You should let Dirt rake you.-

    The pup didn¡¯t seem to be taking this as seriously as expected, which made Dirt increasingly nervous. Dirt couldn¡¯t tell from Father¡¯s body language if he was impressed or not, but at least Socks was still alive, so that was something. If it¡¯d help, Dirt would certainly rush all the way across the valley in an instant to grab that rake.

    -Watch this!- said Socks. He shoved everything back into the big pockets except the iron ball, just larger than Dirt¡¯s head, which he flung in a smooth arc against a nearby tree. The poor thing¡¯s trunk exploded with a resounding CRACK, splitting in half and sending splinters whistling in every direction. Socks yanked the ball back and made it slowly circle over his head, tongue out and looking quite pleased with himself.

    Then he suddenly shot it at another tree, shattering it like the first. Before the sound had even reached Dirt¡¯s ears, Socks had retrieved the ball and held it ready for another fling.

    YOU ARE ACTING TOO HUMAN. WHAT USE HAS A WOLF FOR TOOLS?

    -I am not too human. You would use tools too if you had pockets. With this, I can hit something over there, even if I am over here.-

    YOU CAN ALREADY DO THAT. YOU DON¡¯T NEED AN IRON BALL.

    -I know, but I figured this out. When you lift something with your mind, the force has to go back into your body. But that works both directions. If I brace my feet I can use all my muscles.-

    YOU DO NOT NEED AN IRON BALL. WATCH. Father turned his gaze toward a tall, thick pine and a sharp thump sounded across the field, a strange sound too quiet to echo. The tree remained standing. Then another high-pitched thump, and another.

    LOOK, LITTLE PUP.

    -Those holes are as small as Dirt¡¯s fingers. How did you push them all the way through the trunk? Is it because you¡¯re so big?-

    NO. THINK OF THIS SHAPE.

    -Oh, you start big and then funnel it down, like water going in a hole. Let me try,- said Socks. His posture had perked up a little, even if he made it obvious how he leaned toward Father, never looking away from him for long and frequently reaching up with his nose. He nuzzled his sire¡¯s front leg in a way that wasn¡¯t subtle at all, then braced himself and tried to hit the tree with his mind the way he¡¯d been shown.

    The thump was so quiet from this distance that Dirt thought he might have imagined it, and Socks ducked down in dismay at his failure. But Father didn¡¯t bite his spine in half, so he hurriedly tried again. The second try made a slightly louder sound, and a third.

    I DID NOT CALL YOU HERE TO WATCH YOU PRACTICE.

    -One more try. I think I¡¯ve¡­- said Socks, trailing off. He braced himself, digging in with front and back claws, and smacked the tree with his mind. Dirt heard the thump, faintly, but it sounded right. The pine swayed a bit at the top, which it hadn¡¯t done for Father. -Well, I made a bigger hole than you did, so I didn¡¯t hit as hard. But I still made one. See, Father? I am strong. I am not getting weaker running around with Dirt.-

    PINE WOOD IS SOFT.

    -Can my siblings do that?-

    The great wolf hesitated to answer, giving away the answer before he replied. Dirt grinned to himself to see such an overwhelming presence outsmarted by his friend, and Father shot Dirt a look, just the quickest of glances, to tell him he was watching. Dirt¡¯s smile vanished.

    NO, said Father.

    -How about¡ª -

    MOST OF MY CHILDREN ARE ADULTS BEFORE THEY GAIN THAT LEVEL OF MENTAL CONTROL.

    -Then I bet they can¡¯t do this either. Watch closely, everyone.-

    Socks turned and stepped backward to be alongside Father, then pulled the emerald necklace back out. Even from here, Dirt could see the pup¡¯s entire body focus on the necklace. Not quite well enough to know for sure, but Dirt could guess what was happening¡ªthe pup was unlatching it. That was hard enough for Dirt, who had fingers. Its band was so thin it looked like a thread instead of gold links at first glance, and the clasp operated by a tiny lever that Dirt had to use a fingernail to open. It had taken Socks at least four straight days of practice before he¡¯d gotten it.

    The other pups all startled at the same time, indicating that Socks had succeeded. They crowded in for a closer look, perking up their ears and wagging their huge tails.

    YOUR PET¡¯S FIDDLY LITTLE FINGERS HAVE BEEN GIVING YOU IDEAS. YOU SHOULD NOT IMITATE SUCH BIZARRE CREATURES.

    -They are funny-looking, but mine is cute. And they can be useful.-

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    PERHAPS. SHOW US WHAT ELSE YOU HAVE LEARNED.

    Socks thought about that for a moment. -Okay, no one move.-

    The area filled with sparks, around and under all the other pups and even Father, surrounding them all in a cloud of glowing embers. Each spark burst into a short-lived flame, creating a giant ball of white and yellow fire that burned out almost instantly. Socks¡¯ four siblings yelped and jumped back, and Father growled sincerely, creating a menacing low rumble that Dirt could feel in his chest, filling him with white terror.

    -Look, I didn¡¯t burn you. I didn¡¯t even singe your fur. See how careful I am?- said Socks. He stepped from sibling to sibling making that squeaky whimpering sound, giving their faces little licks. Only once they were sure all their fur was intact did they return any of the affection.

    Dirt gripped the branch ever tighter. What was Socks doing? How could he possibly dare do anything to aggravate Father?

    HOW HOT CAN YOU MAKE THE FIRE? asked Father, sounding unimpressed. Still, some of the carnivorous edge had faded from his voice, which made Dirt wonder.

    Socks stood straighter and wagged his tail. He skipped halfway across the field, then looked around to make sure no one had followed. They knew better.

    He lifted his face upward and created another field of sparks about a body length above himself, then brought them all in together in a small ball. More sparks appeared and fell into it, looking very much like it was drawing them in, then a third batch. The ball swirled.

    Socks strained, stretching his focus to its limit as he brought in more and more sparks. All at once, it became too many and exploded in a flash of white light. A searing wave of heat hit Dirt¡¯s face and made his eyes water, followed by a gentle press of wind.

    Dirt almost jumped out of the tree to go pat Socks¡¯ fur when he saw it smoking, but the pup rolled on the ground and put it out, then hopped back to his feet, looking pleased with himself.

    -I can make it even hotter if Dirt helps.-

    DIRT IS NOT ALLOWED TO HELP RIGHT NOW, said Father. The great wolf moved over to Socks, only needing a few steps to cover that broad distance, and leaned down to sniff him. Socks rolled to his back again and raised his paws, reaching for his sire¡¯s face. Father lifted his head just high enough not to be reached and gave another quiet growl.

    Then Father turned and stepped back to where he was before. COME FORWARD, he said, indicating with a thought which wolf he meant. It was the female who had greeted Socks, his sister one year old.

    She stalked out into the meadow, all playfulness gone. She approached like a predator, not a friend, half again Socks¡¯ size or more with almost none of the fuzz and gentleness of puppyhood. The gray fur of her birth had almost all darkened to black, indicating her maturity. Her orange eyes lost all their affection and she began to regard her little brother as prey.

    TAKE OFF THAT HARNESS, PUP. IT WILL NOT HELP YOU HERE, said Father.

    Socks grabbed the harness with his mind and stepped backward to slip out of it, then deposited it carefully on the ground beside a thin pine at the edge of the meadow. He shook himself to loosen the lines of flattened fur that had been under the straps. Then he stood straight, looking ready.

    KILL HIM. IF HE SURVIVES LONG ENOUGH, I WILL TELL YOU TO STOP.

    Socks wagged his tail for just a moment, glancing across the field to the tree where Dirt was watching, which filled the boy with panic. What was he thinking, losing focus at a time like this? Please, please live, he begged to no one, still keeping his thoughts to himself.

    The pup looked back at his older sister and said, -I have fought scarier things than you.-

    She snarled and stepped forward, ready to circle and look for an opening. And immediately lost her balance and bit the grass. Socks had tripped her with his mind. She tried to rise but took a ringing blow on the head, pushing her back down.

    That was only temporary, however, because she redoubled her strength and surged forward, shrugging off blow after blow. She kicked forward through another mental trip attempt and jumped forward, teeth and claws ready. Socks ducked under it and hoisted her right over himself, then stepped away.

    For her second attack, she didn¡¯t jump, but rather charged straight through and none of Socks¡¯ mental attacks could push her away. She was half again his size and probably twice his weight, and that was before she strengthened herself with mana.

    She reached him easily and they became a tangle of twisting limbs and vicious roars. They bit and tore at each other, growling and snarling the whole time. She had the clear advantage, but Socks was wily enough to keep his throat out of her teeth. More than once she got her fangs into the fur around his shoulder and he tore himself away, opening bloody flaps of skin to keep from letting her do even more damage. The blood slicked his fur and made him harder to grab.

    Dirt whimpered and he clenched his teeth to keep from crying out.

    Socks raked her belly with his rear claws, opening long, bloody lines, but it wasn¡¯t deep enough to let her guts out and end it. She roared in fury, but Socks twisted out from below her grasp.

    They stood apart, then lunged at each other, trying to sink their fangs into whatever they could grab. They split up and lunged again. And again. Her attacks were stronger and more direct, and each time Socks had to pull himself out of her teeth. Not every attack drew blood, though¡ªsometimes she came away with just a tuft of fur.

    The fight raged from one end of the meadow to the other, and beyond it. They crashed into trees, uprooting the smaller ones and shaking the birds from the others. It was so fast, so bestial and chaotic, that Dirt could hardly stand to watch. He had to, though, despite how hard it was to see. He and Socks had come mentally prepared for the worst, but that didn¡¯t make it easier.

    Socks shifted his strategy again, spending more effort dancing away. Invisible hands pushed his sister¡¯s jaws aside, or caught her foot at just the right moment to make her stumble, or some such thing. Never enough to stop her¡ªhe couldn¡¯t¡ªbut always sufficient to slow her down.

    He began to look like he was enjoying himself, despite Father¡¯s judging eye, which filled Dirt with desperation. The whole field was torn up, trees broken, earth and blood and bits of fur everywhere, but Socks was wagging his tail like he was playing tag with children.

    That enraged his sister more and more, but there wasn¡¯t much she could do about it. If Socks turned to run, she¡¯d be on him in an instant. If he faced her directly, she¡¯d overpower him. But this dance of dodging and misdirection was something she couldn¡¯t overcome.

    Until she grabbed him with her own mind. Dirt watch Socks¡¯ movements slow as her mental grip tightened around him, and although it seemed she had much less control, her strength was more than he could resist. Finally she held him secure and lunged in one final time to rip his throat out.

    But she didn¡¯t. She snapped her jaws shut and buried her muzzle in his neck instead, looking completely confused. She stepped back and waved her snout in the air, twisting in every direction and Dirt quickly realized that Socks had clamped her mouth shut. No matter how she struggled, she couldn¡¯t get him to let go.

    She still had her claws, and she still held Socks in her grasp. But she was so surprised by her inability to get her mouth open that it seemed she¡¯d forgotten all that. Dirt quickly removed those thoughts from his mind, though, lest she happen to see them.

    ENOUGH, said Father. Both pups let go of the other, and Socks quickly stepped over to lick his sister¡¯s face affectionately. Despite his injuries, he seemed in a better mood by the minute. Dirt, on the other hand, couldn¡¯t hear the birds anymore over the sound of his own terrified, beating heart.

    Father lifted both pups and placed them before himself, rather than step over where they were. The great wolf huffed in annoyance and looked over to Dirt, who ducked down instinctively, as if that would do any good. Then Father looked back down at Socks and said, THIS IS NOT WORKING. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FRIGHTENED AND TIMID. DO YOU NOT THINK I WILL KILL YOU?

    -She gave it away on accident. I am very good at seeing thoughts someone is trying to hide, because Dirt and I play a game like that. But not just her. She was the first, but they all did,- said Socks, sounding proud. -I saw as soon as I got here, and then I hid it from you so you wouldn¡¯t find out.-

    AND I DIDN¡¯T THINK TO LOOK. I AM GETTING LAX AND YOU ARE A RASCAL. THE GAME IS OVER. LICK THEIR WOUNDS, said Father. He lowered his huge head and finally rubbed faces with Socks while the other pups came and licked the wounds of the combatants.

    Dirt could hardly believe what had just happened. Socks had known he wasn¡¯t going to die, all the way from the start? He edged closer and closer to the end of the branch, wondering if he was allowed to come down there yet or if he even wanted to. It really did look like the trial was over, because now he couldn¡¯t see even a hint of hesitation or coldness among them.

    Indeed, it was nice to see Socks finally smothered in the affection he deserved from his own kind. Maybe Dirt could wait until his heart stopped pounding so hard before he went down. He finally let his mind open to their thoughts so he could watch what was going on, though.

    Socks and Father had been speaking in words, but the other pups didn¡¯t care to. They probably could, but why bother? The air filled with their thoughts, pure emotion and scent and complex ideas all jumbled together in a way Dirt had forgotten about, it¡¯d been so long. Affection and admiration, mostly, speaking so loudly that it almost felt like it belonged to him. They were curious about his adventures and the things in his pockets, and Dirt relaxed onto the branch to enjoy the moment for a bit longer.

    Father¡¯s voice nearly startled him from his perch, though. GET DOWN HERE, HUMAN. I HOPE YOU ARE PROUD OF YOURSELF. THEY ALL WANT POCKETS NOW.

    Dirt jumped right out of the tree rather than waste an instant climbing down. He strengthened his legs and back with mana and rolled when he hit the ground, then sprinted over and lay down on his back right next to Socks. He pulled up his shirt to expose his belly and looked away, in a posture of complete submission.

    I SEE YOU FOUND SOME CLOTHES, said Father.

    -He wears them most days now because it gets cold in the morning and he doesn¡¯t have any fur,-- said Socks, adding ideas and pictures to the words. Dirt shivering after waking up, his teeth chattering in the cold wind while Socks ran, the city full of humans and all of them dressed.

    Dirt said something as well, trying his best to speak in the way of wolves. A bundle of ideas and scents¡ªfamiliarity and relaxation, the comfortable feeling of cloth on his skin, the bite of cold air and his need to stay warm. An image of himself leaving the human city and the reassuring scent of Socks¡¯ fur as he lay down for the pup to run. Their affection and Dirt¡¯s choice to stay with him.

    The other wolves were amused, all of them opening their mouths to show their tongues. -You speak like an infant,- said one of the younger males. Dirt grinned before he remembered that baring your teeth was different for them. Fortunately, though, they understood.

    Of the four pups, Dirt recognized two as being from Socks¡¯ litter. He¡¯d met them before, and even spoken a bit. He sent them puffs of affection and recognition. To the two older pups, he sent respect and greeting. And, foolishly, to Father he sent complete humility and gratitude, the kind that expects nothing in return. He still did his best to avoid looking at Father¡¯s mind, though, which glowed like the burning summer sun at noon.

    GET UP OFF THE GROUND, HUMAN. THAT IS NOT HUMAN BEHAVIOR.

    Dirt hopped instantly to his feet and bowed, like people did for the Duke.

    THAT¡¯S BETTER. NOW, PICK UP THAT RAKE. AFTERWARD, WE WILL DISCUSS WHAT YOU TWO WILL BE DOING OVER THE WINTER.

    Father lay down, his bulk shoving trees aside rather than moving to where there weren¡¯t any. He rested his chin on the ground and looked at Dirt expectantly with eyes as big as the boy was.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 2

    Dirt wasted no time. He grabbed the rake in both hands and used mana to jump atop Father¡¯s head, right up between his ears. It was a close thing¡ªthe rake caught the wind and slowed him down and he almost missed his target, landing on the slope of the skull and only barely keeping his balance.

    But he still made it up there and immediately got to work, doing it like Socks preferred. Rough and deep and scratchy first, really digging in, then smoothing it out to leave it flat and handsome. Dirt had enough practice by now to know where the skin was thin and tender and not to scratch as hard there, but that wasn¡¯t as important atop Father as atop Socks. Father was so big it didn¡¯t feel like he was standing on a living creature, more like a strangely-shaped hill covered in rough black fur.

    Father gave no reaction beyond a deep, cavernous huff, which sounded to Dirt like a satisfied sigh. The pups, Socks included, watched for a moment with eager curiosity, expecting their turns to come next.

    And they were right, but it wouldn¡¯t be soon. Father was enormous. Just his head had more fur than Socks¡¯ whole body.

    After Socks and his siblings got tired of waiting, which wasn¡¯t long, they began to play, hopping around and exploring, chasing and play-biting at each other, rubbing up against trees to scratch themselves, and generally having a good time. Their games were all physical, all causing frequent contact with each other, and none of them were serious. Half-hearted races ten paces away, or wrestling someone to the ground, then panting proudly for a moment before he or she twisted away.

    When a gust of wind filled the air with red and yellow leaves, they chased them, snapping their jaws in the air. If they managed to catch a leaf, they regretted it and had to wipe it off their wet tongue with a paw, but that didn¡¯t stop them doing it again.

    Dirt couldn¡¯t pay too much attention to them, having a much more important task to complete. But he did notice that when it came down to it, Socks wasn¡¯t visibly stronger or faster than the two his age, and certainly not than the older two. Those two bowled him over just running past. It looked a lot different when they weren¡¯t using mana, he decided. Probably much like humans in that regard.

    Still, it was nice to see Socks finally get to play with creatures his own size. Dirt hummed happily to himself, content for it to take as long as it took, and let Socks play.

    Once Dirt got down to the neck and beyond, Father¡¯s fur was full of tangles¡ªnested twigs or vines with thorns, or hardened grime that Dirt suspected was old gore from something Father killed. Tufts of fur matted around briars, other such things. He didn¡¯t dare just yank, lest he cause the great wolf the slightest discomfort, so when he couldn¡¯t gently rake something out, he got down with his knife and carefully trimmed it away.

    Truthfully, what Father needed most was a good soak, but where was a lake big enough? The deepest water Dirt had seen anywhere was that stone basin with the tentacle monster, but Father could probably stand in that without getting his belly wet. Maybe he could lay in it for a while with just his nose out to breathe.

    But if not a soak, then Father needed his own team of humans to tend him, well-dressed servants like the Duke had, who were nimble and could use mana. And had some longer rakes.

    I HAVE HAD HUMANS TO TEND ME AT VARIOUS TIMES, WHEN THE FANCY STRUCK ME. THEY DO NOT LAST.

    Dirt hesitated, dread gathering in his heart, wondering if he should reply. But Father seemed to be making conversation, reading Dirt¡¯s thoughts and commenting on them. So Dirt replied, just thinking to himself and not speaking to Father directly, ¡°Because we¡¯re short-lived? If you let them have children, then they could tend you for a long time."

    NO. EITHER THEY GROW RESENTFUL AFTER THREE OR FOUR GENERATIONS, OR THE GODS GROW JEALOUS. THEY NEVER DID LIKE TO SHARE.

    ¡°Oh. Well, I¡¯m glad I can do it this time,¡± thought Dirt. Did he dare ask about the gods, and what happened to them? He had a growing belief that he¡¯d directly caused whatever it was, and Father didn¡¯t seem too keen on having them return. Father had said once he was freer than he ever had been, now that they were gone.

    On second thought, what could it hurt? Dirt was utterly insignificant to a being like Father, and it was obvious Dirt had no intention of giving any offense or disrespect. Most likely, Father would simply ignore anything he didn¡¯t care to answer.

    So Dirt asked, ¡°What happened to the gods? What are they?¡±

    Father raised his enormous black head to look at Dirt with one yellow eye, and Dirt ducked his head down and got to raking twice as hard, his heart beating heavily against his ribs.

    YOU MAY SPEAK TO ME DIRECTLY. WATCHING YOU TRY TO AVOID IT IS TIRING. SPEAK TO ME AS YOU SPEAK TO THE OTHERS. AS FOR THE GODS, YOU WILL FIGURE IT OUT EVENTUALLY. FIND ME ONCE YOU HAVE THE ANSWER TO YOUR FIRST QUESTION AND WE WILL DISCUSS THIS FURTHER.

    ¡°Yes, Father,¡± said Dirt, sending the thought as directed, instead of just thinking it. Then, for no reason beyond reckless daring, he turned his mind-sight onto the blinding sun of the great wolf¡¯s thoughts. Father had most of his mind hidden so tightly and perfectly that Dirt realized just how sloppy he and Socks were, but there was one thing he recognized¡ªFather wanted scratched over by the shoulder.

    Dirt raced over to the spot and raked it well, finding and then cutting out a stick the size of his forearm. His lips drifted into a smile that spread while he worked, his excitement too great to contain. Not only was Father showing him an unbelievable level of tolerance and condescension, but the answers really were out there, and Dirt would find them.

    ¡°Can I ask you a few other things?¡± asked Dirt, raking just a bit faster to show he was still fully engaged in his task.

    ASK.

    ¡°What was that big purple smoke thing in Ocriculum? We heard it tapping on the door, so it was still alive, but it must have been there for a really long time,¡± said Dirt.

    IT WAS PART OF A PARASITE. EVEN DIVIDED IT CAN PROVE AN UNFAIR THREAT TO MY PUPS.

    ¡°A parasite? So it would have attached to something, maybe? Like a leech?¡±

    Father sent him a vision of a vast, skeletal being, the size of a mountain, bigger even than the trees. Parts of it looked human, but it wasn¡¯t. Not even close. A skull and shoulders, like Dirt remembered, and a skin of dark-purple fog inside which swirled countless bones and other remains of death, but indefinite and worm-like below that, with too many arms, each having too many joints. Its finger bones were tendrils that sank into the earth as it leaned down, jawbone open in a wretched scream that twisted Dirt¡¯s soul, even in so distant and abstracted a vision. He¡¯d heard that scream, once, and it sickened him even now.

    Every living thing its bony tentacle-fingers touched was drained of all color and became a husk, still moving but empty. Skeletal. Drained and dead. Dead but still moving, until whatever motive force kept it going ran out, at which point it collapsed. Deer, wild cattle, a gryphon, and even some humans fell prey to it, wandering like walking corpses, which is what they were.

    The abomination itself remained floating in the air, fading in and out of visibility, drifting patiently as it looked for more prey whose life could feed it. The walking dead, if they found anything moving, clutched it tightly with whatever arms or claws they had until the abomination¡¯s snaking fingers found it and drained it of life and color.

    The sun crested over the distant horizon and rays of light found the hateful thing. It squirmed as its dark purple skein of fog absorbed the light, bulging in odd places and making it bloat like a corpse that¡¯d been out too long. After several minutes of slow suffering, all while it kept feeding wherever it found life, it exploded, sending flecks of itself great distances in every direction. Most flecks fell on barren ground or on plants too small to provide any nourishment, and all those soon vanished like sticky bits of fog, wisping away into nothing. But some fell onto humans or other animals and sank into the skin, causing large purple lumps to appear, diseased and painful. The unfortunates grew crazed and confused, lurching away from dens and homes to wander in search of dark, quiet places to lurk.

    Places like the tombs beneath Ocriculum, where one cowered behind the statue of the Shepherd of the Dead before that god was damaged and fell from his place. Hiding in burial nooks alongside the dead when the living brought in life, waiting mindlessly until they left. The diseased woman cowered long in the dark, feeding on corpse flesh, waiting. Until disaster drove hundreds to hide in the tombs. The door closed, leaving so many hapless souls trapped in there with her. With it. The vision faded when the first of them screamed.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Dirt realized he¡¯d stopped combing Father¡¯s fur, deeply unsettled by the vision, the worst parts of which lingered. He shook his head, took a deep, calming breath, and resumed.

    ¡°Can Socks and I fight it if we find another piece of it someday? What should we do?¡± he asked.

    IF IT IS NIGHT, HIDE. IF IT IS DAY, RUN OR CONCEAL YOURSELF AND LET THE SUN BURN IT AWAY. IT WILL TAKE A GOOD PORTION OF THE DAY. THEN DESTROY ALL THE PIECES.

    ¡°How do we destroy the pieces?¡±

    BURN THEM WITH FIRE, AND ANY INFECTED HOST. IF IT ATTEMPTS TO INFECT YOU, YOUR ONLY CHANCE OF SURVIVAL IS TO THRUST IT AWAY WITH THE RADIANCE OF YOUR OWN LIFE. MY PUP WAS YET SMALL. A DAY WILL COME WHEN IT FLEES HIM, AS IT DOES ME.

    By now, Dirt had gotten most of Father¡¯s fur scratched and combed on this side, and Father gave him no warning before rolling over. Dirt had to sprint to keep up, moving from Father¡¯s left to his right by running straight across his stomach. Dirt giggled, thinking Socks would probably have done the exact same thing and found it funny. And it was.

    Between Father rolling over and the pups¡¯ wild play, the meadow was twice as big now as when they first arrived. Countless trees had been knocked over or broken. There were only three kinds here: tall dark-green pines that grew so close together only their top third had any needles; short, white-barked birches whose circular leaves had mostly turned yellow and fallen everywhere, and smaller, scrubby trees that were too tangled and messy for even Dirt to want to climb through. Those had handsome red or orange leaves, and most of them were still attached. Until a pup crashed into one, at which point the leaves were flung up into a cloud and drifted quickly down to get caught in any fur they found.

    As such, the pups were making quite a mess. Their fur stood up with static, which made the leaves stick even more, and Dirt found it too comical not to laugh once he got a good look.

    ¡°Can I ask another question?¡±  said Dirt. ¡°I¡¯ll try not to get distracted by the answer this time. Sorry.¡±

    ASK.

    ¡°What was the eyeball monster thing that came out of the sky at Ogena?¡±

    THAT WAS THE GREAT ENEMY OF MANKIND. IT SEEKS TO MAKE YOUR KIND EXTINCT. HUMANS ARE TOO SHORT-LIVED AND LIMITED IN PERSPECTIVE AND EXPERIENCE TO COUNTER IT, AND ITS VICTORY DRAWS EVER CLOSER.

    Dirt shuddered, or perhaps trembled. His arms felt like empty cloth, but he made himself keep raking anyway. He knew what question he wanted to ask next, but lacked the courage. Except that was silly. Father already knew what he wanted to ask, and what the answer was. So he asked, ¡°Why did it have my face?¡±

    YOU WERE THE FIRST THING IT SAW WHEN IT PEEPED UPON OUR WORLD. I WILL TELL YOU NO MORE ABOUT IT UNTIL YOU FIND THE ANSWER TO THE FIRST QUESTION YOU ASKED ME.

    ¡°Okay. Well, thank you for answering so much. You know I¡¯m grateful. You can see it. And I am. And thank you for letting me be with Socks,¡± said Dirt. He got back to raking, and all it took was to think about how happy Socks was, over there at the bottom of the puppy pile, to fill his heart with warmth, so much it choked him up a little if he let it. This time, he did. He truly loved the pup, and his siblings, and even terrible, magnificent Father, the mere thought of whom filled him with immeasurable, wordless awe. How could anyone be happier than Dirt was?

    THAT IS ENOUGH FOR NOW. GO PLAY BEFORE THEY GET TIRED.

    Dirt nodded and slid down, landing hard and rolling since it was so far up. He even had to reinforce his legs with mana to keep his ankles from breaking. But he tossed the rake aside and looked at the pups, considering how to approach this. He quickly stripped his clothes off, since there was no chance they¡¯d survive what he had in mind, and ran into the tangle of pups, right into the middle, making them all freeze for fear of crushing him.

    ¡°Whoever catches me first gets raked next! And no using your mind! You can use your claws or teeth, since I¡¯m sturdy. But not too hard. Okay, go!¡± Then with a wild laugh, he raced with mana-infused legs under Big Sister, swatting her tail with his hand as he passed. She nearly flipped over trying to chase him.

    It turned out to be easier to avoid them all at once than one at a time, since he was so small and they kept crashing into each other. It took no time at all for them to watch Socks and see how much force was safe to use, which was more than they were expecting. Dirt was no mouse, and they could step on him if they had to. If they could catch him.

    Dirt hooted and squealed as he darted between them, jumping over their heads when they lunged in for a bite or rolling to one side when they tried to pin him with a paw. Big Brother tried rolling on top of him, and that almost worked until Little Sister got in the way and gave Dirt a space to squeeze out.

    The game got more serious the longer it went on, which made it outrageously fun. The pups snarled and growled at him and each other, with Dirt screaming gleefully each time he saw an attack coming. Finally, Little Brother got him by smacking him out of the air with his tail when he tried to jump out of Big Sister¡¯s way in the same direction as the previous time. The pup spun and snatched him right out of the air, getting his teeth around one of Dirt¡¯s legs, leaving him dangling awkwardly.

    ¡°Okay, you got me. Put me down!¡± said Dirt, laughing. Little Brother was biting him just a little hard and Dirt could feel the mana tingle as it burned away to protect his skin.

    Then it turned out Little Brother would rather keep playing than get raked. He could get raked later and this was too good to pass up. Hunting a prey like Dirt, who you could bite semi-gently without killing, and who was just as quick and wily as a wolf, was not an opportunity to miss.

    Dirt had to use every trick he had, then think of several more. The pups were quick learners and after Dirt had been caught twice more, the real trick was catching him without moving him into a position to be caught by someone else. For his part, Dirt ran on all fours, or clung to their fur on a spot they couldn¡¯t reach, or anything else he could think of. Socks caught him once, then Big Sister, then Little Brother again, then Little Sister. Finally Big Brother managed to catch him by snatching him off Big Sister¡¯s neck when he thought he was safe.

    Dirt¡¯s mind wore out before his body did. Staying that wary, watching in that many directions at once, was incredibly tiring. He called a stop to the melee and lay down, arms and legs outstretched while he caught his breath. The pups all licked him at once, all five of them, covering him from head to toe with their huge tongues and leaving him almost sopping wet when they were done. Then they curled up around him protectively, surrounding him in a circular fortification of wolf flesh, with their noses in so they could keep sniffing him while they all relaxed.

    Big Sister licked him again, just slightly with the tip of her tongue. She said, -Where can I get pockets?-

    Socks answered for Dirt, since he could tell her the way. He shared his sense of direction and location, showing her the feeling that would guide her to the exact center of Ogena. Then he said, -Tell them you are my sister and Dirt¡¯s friend, and hunt some goblins for them, and they will make you pockets. Humans are not dangerous, but be careful around them because the father of their den is our friend. He is called the Duke.-

    Dirt added, ¡°We have other friends there, too. The Duke¡¯s children and his mate, who are called ¨¨lia and M¨¤xim and the Duchess, and a man named Ignasi is still there. And H¨¨ctor. Marina is our other friend, but I don¡¯t know if she went to the forest yet or not. She was looking for a mate.¡±

    I AM NOT PLEASED AT THE THOUGHT OF ALL MY PUPS RUNNING AROUND WITH HARNESSES ON SO THEY CAN CARRY GARBAGE, said Father. He only sounded half-serious.

    -We will grow out of it. We are still just pups,- said Socks.

    GROW OUT OF IT NOW, THEN.

    -Soon. I promise. Very soon,- said Socks. His siblings all gave him amused looks. Dirt was sure that if Socks thought Father meant it for real, that¡¯d be the end of it. Socks was being sincere when he submitted and begged for affection from his sire. And while it seemed like they had all been selected to grow up, who knew? Getting eaten might still be a possibility. Either way, the pups didn¡¯t seem too worried about it.

    Father rose and a few steps placed him above their heads. He leaned down and the pups all whimpered and leaned back up at him, licking his maw and pressing their noses together in a bid for his attention.

    IT IS TIME TO DISCUSS WHAT YOU WISH TO DO OVER THE WINTER. I WILL GIVE YOU TWO OPTIONS, said Father.

    The great wolf gave his pups their options in two complex bundles of thought that arrived all at once. It took a moment to contemplate and consider them, and for a moment, no one said much.

    The first option was to stay with him over the winter. They would trace through the mountains in the bitterest cold to hunt the choicest prey. Great beasts with long tusks, humanoid creatures that bellowed like warhorns, rocks and wind and storms and violence, but always a safe refuge at the end. Gentle caves to hide from wind or warm dens Father himself had dug would mark their journey across the great expanses of mountain and plain. They would learn the ways of sky and earth, about rocks and weather and the rotations of the skies. Father would protect them from the Devourer as well as could be expected, as he had been doing thus far. Dirt, however, would almost certainly freeze to death. If Socks went with Father, Dirt would have to spend the season somewhere else.

    The second option was to wander south, all on their own. It would be the first time for the other four pups, but Socks had managed to avoid the Devourer during his adventures, so perhaps it was possible as long as they all kept moving. They should wander south far enough to avoid most of the snow, into the warm, desolate lands of sand and cactus and gray brush, with black hills and red mountains and hardly any prey at all. They would teach themselves to hunt and find water in scarcity. Dirt would be forbidden from giving Socks any sap or water if Socks chose this option.

    -Are there any humans in the south?- asked Socks. ---Dirt wants to find more scrolls, so we were going to the Kingdom to find the King.-

    THERE ARE SOME BUT I DOUBT THEY HAVE ANY SCROLLS.

    ¡°Socks, you shouldn¡¯t make the decision based on me. Father, what do you think would be best for Socks? I don¡¯t want to be left anywhere for a whole season, but I think if I was a reason Socks didn¡¯t become the best he could be, I¡¯d be even sadder.¡±

    THE CHOICE IS NOT A TEST. I WOULD NOT GIVE TWO OPTIONS IF ONE WAS CLEARLY INFERIOR.

    -I will go north into the snow,- said Big Brother. His thoughts shared his enjoyment of the cold, preferring it to the heat. In that regard, he was just like his Sire.

    -As will I,- said Big Sister, thinking of the grand exploration promised by the mountains.

    -I will go south. I might find my own human,- said Little Sister, not without a hint of envy for Socks.

    -And me. I want to explore on my own for a season, if brother did it and survived,- said Little Brother.

    AND YOU, CHILD? asked Father.

    -I¡¯m still thinking.- said Socks. -If I go south, can I still spend another season with you someday, before I¡¯m all grown?-

    YOU CAN. AND PERHAPS I WILL TOLERATE YOUR PET.

    -Then I will miss you. I miss you and Mother and my siblings a lot. But I will go south this time.-

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 3

    Father leaned down and sniffed his tiny pup, then the others. Satisfied at whatever he was checking, he said, VERY WELL, THEN. THE DEVOURER IS NOT CLOSE, SO WE SHALL REMAIN HERE FOR A FEW DAYS FIRST. He turned his terrible gaze to Dirt and added, EXCEPT FOR YOU. GATHER YOUR THINGS.

    Dirt looked down, trying to hide his sudden disappointment, and ran to gather his few belongings. He pulled his clothes on so hastily he put his shirt on backward the first time, to the amusement of the pups who loomed over him to watch. Once he had his shoes on and everything was proper, he slung his backpack over both shoulders and said, ¡°Okay, is there anywhere in particular you want me to go? Or just¡­ away.¡±

    He didn¡¯t conceal his feelings of disappointment and rejection, or make himself feel something else to be diplomatic and inoffensive. That was probably pointless anyway, and better to hurry than be tiresome. Socks noticed and sent him a little puff of sympathy.

    Father didn¡¯t reply. He just huffed and looked away, making Dirt wonder for a moment if the great wolf was amused or annoyed. Before Dirt could pick a direction on his own and start walking, however, the world vanished around him.

    Dirt hurtled at incomprehensible speed, sharply slamming this way and that, unable to see or hear or smell anything. By the time he realized what had happened, he hit the soft ground in a daze.

    Root travel! Hitting the ground that hard knocked all the bad feelings right out of him, since he instantly knew where he was. There was no mistaking this damp, black soil. How silly he¡¯d been, doubting Father. When had the great wolf ever shown him the slightest cruelty? Never. ¡°Thank you!¡± he muttered, his mouth barely working, just in case Father was watching.

    He shot to his feet so fast he almost fell over and braced himself by clasping Home in a tight hug. He found her more by feel than sight, since his eyes refused to focus that quickly. She hugged him back, not too hard, and he inhaled deeply to smell her subtle scent of bark and leaves. He was finally back! It¡¯d seemed like so long, most of the summer and a good portion of autumn as well. It was warmer here, he noticed. The same temperature it always was. The perfect temperature.

    ¡°Hello, Home. How did you know to bring me?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°The Father of Wolves told us to summon you. The part of me that is your brace, or staff, or armor, will remain there until it is time to send you back,¡± said Home, smiling warmly. Now that Dirt had more experience with humans, her body language and posture reminded him of the Duchess, even though her dryad was still his size.

    Dirt held out his arm and pulled back the sleeve and sure enough, the brace was gone. ¡°Is my arm fine now? Oh, it¡¯s everyone!¡±

    Now that Dirt was regaining his equilibrium enough to actually look around, he found himself surrounded by a huge crowd of dryads, all those he recognized and plenty more he didn¡¯t. They looked different, though, and it took him a moment to realize why. Clothing. Many¡ªthough not all¡ªhad clothing on now, not just the fuzzy carpet of leaves they used to have. It wasn¡¯t fine cloth like the Duke and his family wore. No vibrant silks bedecked with jewels. Not regular cloth like the others in Ogena had, either, with colorful patterns and layers. No, it was laborer¡¯s clothing, simple and brownish gray in color. Undyed fibers spun into thread and woven.

    ¡°Welcome back, friend Dirt,¡± said Callius, spinning in a circle and then planting his hands on his hips. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°Did you make those yourselves?¡±

    ¡°We did! Do you want to see?¡± said Callius, face bright with eagerness.

    ¡°Of course I do,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Great! I¡¯ll show you how we make it later,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dirt. ¡°So, until then, I guess we can¡ª¡±

    ¡°Look around you, silly Dirt,¡± said Callius. ¡°Look.¡±

    Dirt looked at all the dryads, not sure what else he was supposed to notice. Hundreds of gray-skinned, green-haired girls his age. Those who had clothing on wore it short, never past the knees, whether a skirt or pants, so it wouldn¡¯t get dirty walking through the black soil. Come to think of it, Dirt should probably take his shoes and socks off and roll his pant legs up, at a minimum. Maybe he should take everything off, in fact. There¡¯d be no way he¡¯d be able to play with the dryads without getting nice and filthy. No need to ruin his clothing. Although, maybe if they were all dressed, he should be too? Or did they¡­

    His thoughts trailed off into a stunned stupor when he noticed the buildings. They were everywhere, in perfect rows just like he remembered. Gray stone stained with black soil rose from the ferns to stand silently beneath the trees. Where stones couldn¡¯t be found to patch the building back together, wooden vines filled the gaps. The roofs had almost no tiles and were covered instead with wide, five-pointed leaves bigger than Dirt was. Most of the paint and stucco was gone after so long, but he still recognized them. He knew exactly where he was.

    ¡°Turicum,¡± he said quietly. This was vicus salutaris, a street he knew well. Over there was one of the nicer hostels in the city, busy at all hours. And next to it, Clavii caupona, with the good lamb and vegetables, always hot and ready. Avitus had known Clavius well after eating there so many times. He could almost picture the man. Almost.

    The streets weren¡¯t completely paved, leaving gaps for bare soil already growing in with baby ferns, but they were there. The original stones. So much of it was just how he remembered, even if the colors were faded, the stucco lost forever and the paint worn away to nothing. Flowerpots and sculpture remained, and partial facades over doorways. Most of the buildings were missing their shady wooden awnings, but the dryads probably didn¡¯t know about those and there wasn¡¯t much need for shade now anyway.

    Dirt¡ªno, Avitus¡ªwalked up the street in a daze, his posture straightening and growing dignified. This was his city, once full of his people. It wasn¡¯t like the ruins of Ocriculum, where, for most of the city, nothing but footings and foundations remained. Here, entire buildings had been fully resurrected. The city wasn¡¯t completely rebuilt, but enough to recognize. Some buildings were only partial, one story instead of seven, but the upper floors had all been wooden. And some buildings hadn¡¯t been raised from the ground at all for whatever reason. Perhaps not enough of them remained to bother, or maybe the dryads needed to leave room for the ferns and grubs and all the little bugs that lived in the soil.

    Furthermore, Ocriculum had seemed like an old skeleton falling to dust. The remains of a place, not the place itself. But here, dryads occupied the buildings, waving at him from inside the windows and doorways and resting on benches to chat. They smiled as he walked past.

    For him. All of this was for him. So much effort and time and care. They were wearing clothing because that¡¯s what humans did, and they were resting or chatting or walking about just like they¡¯d seen humans doing in Ogena, through Home¡¯s staff. All for him.

    It was too much. The precious familiarity became mixed with his gratitude for their love and overcame him. He turned with tears in his eyes and embraced Callius, who had been the closest. ¡°Thank you!¡± he whispered, his chest shaking. He reached an arm out for Dawn, who was close by and pulled her in as well.

    ¡°Oh! Wait, I remember¡­ I remember where it is!¡± he said and pulled away. He spun and ran down the street, turning at the five-way intersection. He passed the small theater and the apartments where Drucus and Ecidia lived. Past the brass-worker¡¯s shop and the two cheap potters. He ran past the temple and several more row houses, past the enchanter¡¯s shop where some of his apprentices had worked, past the justice¡¯s outpost. One more turn, then down the street, and there it was.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    His stone fence, mostly reconstructed, walling in his private villa. And inside it, his home. The walls had been fully restored and the roof was the right shape, although it was replaced by the standard vines and leaves. Nearly all the pillars were back as well, although most of them had cracked and were held together with vines. They lined the walkways, holding up nothing since the awnings were missing. Well, he could fix that himself later.

    ¡°This was my house,¡± said Dirt. Dryads were pouring into the villa, standing on the walkways and the empty garden areas, all walking in with eager faces.

    It felt alive, even though it was dead. It was a ruin in the shape of his house, but no, those were the original stones. The original concrete patched back together. He stepped to the doorway of the living area and traced his fingers along a crack in the wall, then walked inside, anticipation stealing his breath.

    He walked down the short hallway into the large atrium, just as he left it, minus all the wooden furniture. It felt so familiar it left him almost light-headed. The interior fountain was empty, and they didn¡¯t leave an opening in the roof, making the whole room much darker than it was supposed to be. The shadows hid what remained of the wall paintings, but most of the beautiful tiled floor was back, and in the right place. The statues were there, the youth pouring water into the pool and the woman with a bird resting on her finger.

    ¡°I used to receive guests here. There were couches and divans once, with cushions. In fact, this corner was my favorite spot to read. Hilaria liked to sit by the fountain and embroider. I remember that,¡± he said, his voice quiet. He was having difficulty remembering the dryads were still here, despite how they crowded in to watch. His mind was too distracted with enjoying the feeling of familiarity and trying to claw some of his lost memory from the void to pay them much attention.

    He remembered the sense of people, but little more than that. A name or two, but no idea who they¡¯d been. A strong man used to stand here, reassuring and friendly. And over there, a gossipy group of women who laughed and sang. Were they his brood? Was one of them his mate? He had no idea. But he felt drawn to this corner and that, to the feeling of the person who had occupied the space and whose faded memory now haunted it.

    Avitus sighed and entered a different doorway, following a wider hall to the left. He passed the hot bath, now empty and cracked and unlikely to hold water again, and the cool bath, much the same. A storage room where he¡¯d once put¡­ well, it was empty now, not even shelves remaining. Another storage room, just as small, but with a larger door. Ah, right, clothing and towels and things. That¡¯s what he¡¯d stored there, with no door to ensure easier access.

    Then, finally, at the end of the hall, his bedroom. It was built against the exterior wall, sporting windows to the front and side, and was grimy and dark now. Dark soil filled all the lines between the floor tiles, drawing out the patterns. The stove for heating had been restored and looked like it probably still worked, although the metal grate was gone. And there was nothing to burn, and he¡¯d have to fix the chimney, which was sealed.

    The first thing he¡¯d have to do was make a new bed, though.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t know which house was yours, or we might have taken more care for it,¡± said Dawn. She was a little taller now, he noticed, a bit rounder and more feminine. She reminded him of ¨¨lia, in fact. She still had that girlish cheer, though. It was unmistakably her.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I wasn¡¯t expecting any of this. I never thought I¡¯d see this place again. I used to sleep right there, on a bed. Three thousand years ago,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I can clean it myself, if I can get someone to make water for me.¡±

    ¡°We know you were not expecting it, which is what makes it a surprise,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good surprise! It definitely surprised me. Do you have any plans for the city, or did you just do it for me?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°You gave us an entire world, friend Dirt. We can give you one little city in return,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°Come, we have something more we wish to show you,¡± said Dawn, grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle tug. ¡°It is in the schola, where the cursed dead captured you. Or will you be too troubled to see that place again?¡±

    ¡°Oh, did you rebuild that place too? It¡¯s fine, it won¡¯t bother me,¡± said Dirt. He remembered it being mostly intact, but to be fair, he hadn¡¯t spent much time there.

    ¡°Then come,¡± said Dawn, tugging his hand more urgently, her dry, glassy eyes almost sparkling.

    ¡°I know the way,¡± said Dirt with a half-smile. He inhaled mana and leaped out a window, then ran up the street. He dashed to a main road and followed it out of the city, marveling at just how large it was, and how much had been restored. It was larger than Ogena and Llovella together, easily. He passed well over ten trees before they reached the exterior wall of the city, and they were hundreds of paces apart.

    Out the gate and into what had once been the countryside, with large sections of the highway restored, as well as whatever stone or concrete buildings had been found along the road. Mostly farmer villas. It was a good distance from there to the schola, and they traveled through two different villages, Iguvium and Dullu, which were in much worse condition due to having been constructed from a lot more wood.

    Then the side road off the main highway, where a signpost had once stood, and a well for travelers to water the horses. Neither were there now. Dirt turned, followed by the crowd of hundreds of happy dryads, and sped along the path until it came into view.

    Prisca¡¯s schola, just as he¡¯d left it. Except the ornate gardens were in better order now, fallen stones stood back up and walkways and walls and such all restored. Even the pillars in the front of the building had been pieced back together, and much of the fa?ade. He could read the name now, which had been carved in fascia stone that had been missing before: SCHOLA SAPIENTIAE ANTIQUAE, the school of ancient wisdom.

    He smiled at that. Most of what they¡¯d taught there hadn¡¯t been quite so ancient. Some, perhaps, but not most.

    Dirt stopped at the little basins of water, pleased to see they were working now, all full of cool, pellucid water instead of just the one. He bent down and plopped his face in to drink his fill, he stood again and wiped the water off his face and hair. Some of it dripped onto his shirt, giving him a little chill, but even with that it wasn¡¯t as cold as where he¡¯d left Socks, so he found it pleasant.

    He paused at the entrance to the schola, though. It was dark as night inside, just as before. The memory of terror wafted from the place and sank into his skin, leaving him clammy.

    Home took his hand and held it tightly. ¡°Do not be scared, dear Dirt,¡± she said.

    ¡°I¡¯m okay. I like how well you put this place back together. Should we go inside?¡± he asked, gathering his courage. It¡¯d be fine. Surely.

    He snapped with his other hand and made a light, then split it into several more and sent them inside. Then he followed them in.

    The warm yellow glow of his lights made the lecture hall feel warm and inviting, as if by warm fires on a cool night. They flickered as he pushed them mentally into the farther reaches of the space. Ancient wooden benches stood in their proper places, and some new ones, paler in color, which the dryads must have made. The frescos and statues brought extra life into the place, and Dirt¡¯s fear faded, replaced by nostalgia.

    Such a charming place, the schola, and this was one of the greatest ones. And the most expensive, which showed all these years later. Tiles and decorations everywhere, expensive and exacting architecture that carried sound perfectly from the front into every ear. The ruined furniture had been removed and most of it replaced with passable reproductions, everything from chairs and tables to shelves and candelabra and lamps. Dirt was sure that if he looked close, he¡¯d find the lamps solid and unusable. Things here and there to indicate that the dryads didn¡¯t actually know what most of this stuff was for. But even so, to Dirt¡¯s eyes, it rivalled the Duke¡¯s palace.

    ¡°This is incredible,¡± he said. ¡°You restored so much of it! Is it because this place never sank, so lots of the wooden furniture remained?¡±

    ¡°This is not what we wanted to show you, friend Dirt,¡± said Dawn, taking his hand from Home and tugging it. ¡°Come. This way.¡±

    ¡°What? There was more?¡±

    ¡°Come!¡± said Dawn, insisting. She was practically bouncing.

    She dragged him toward a side door, out into the hallway that led to other rooms of the schola. He stumbled trying to keep up, but she didn¡¯t relent. Her steps were almost a dance as she tugged him onward, past two empty doorways and stopping in front of a third, on the other side. ¡°Go in,¡± she said, pointing into the shadows.

    Dirt snapped again, summoning another bright spark, and sent it in. Dawn pushed him right behind it, almost knocking him over. Callius laughed. ¡°Be gentle with our little Dirt, my dear,¡± he scolded. ¡°That is the wrong place to fall and break something.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t believe what he saw. The room had started as a library, with hundreds of nooks for scrolls, and every single one of them was full. Then, covering nearly every inch of floor from wall to wall, were baskets and chests of every conceivable thing, all stacked on top of each other from floor to ceiling, leaving almost no room to walk despite the size of the space¡ªsilver and gold and cups carved from precious stone, beautiful works of old, yellow ivory and amber and more. He didn¡¯t even know where to start.

    ¡°This is all the stuff we found digging up the city,¡± said Callius. ¡°We didn¡¯t know where else to put it.¡±

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 4

    Dirt had no idea where to start. The room was too full to get around in, and most of the stacks of stuffed boxes were taller than he was. All the silverware and gold cups and carved stone trinkets and so on were impressive, and they¡¯d be fun to sort through later, but what he really wanted were the scrolls, and he¡¯d have to climb to get any. He really needed to figure out how to move stuff with his mind like Socks did.

    ¡°How did you find all this stuff? I¡¯m guessing you found the stones of the city sunk into the ground and pulled them back out and put them together. But how did you find little stuff, like this quill stand?¡± asked Dirt, lifting the first thing his hand rested on. In fact, that box was full of them, and inkwells.

    Callius gave him a smirk. ¡°The answer would be more complicated than it¡¯s worth. Let¡¯s just say we felt around for it.¡±

    ¡°I guess that makes more sense than just digging everywhere to see what you find,¡± said Dirt. They must have used their roots and grown something like a net. That was his guess. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s see if I can¡­¡±

    Now that he got a closer look, the boxes looked like the dryads had grown them all of one piece. They would be sturdy, for certain. But they were all different sizes and not quite flat around the edges, so they didn¡¯t stack very well. Dirt stepped up on the rim of the nearest and wondered if he dared pull himself up. The top of the stack was wobbly, and if it fell over on him, then he¡¯d have a mess and no progress.

    ¡°Okay, everyone, I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll work. If I try to climb over I¡¯m just going to break something, so let¡¯s move all this stuff to the lecture hall. Maybe we can build shelves in one of the villas or public buildings and turn it into a museum. But the thing I want the most is the scrolls,¡± he said, ¡°and they¡¯re the farthest thing in the back.¡±

    ¡°At least we organized it all first,¡± said the dryad, shrugging.

    ¡°You did? How did you know what everything was?¡±

    ¡°We had someone to show us many human styles and dwellings, dear Dirt. We saw similar things being used. Did we not?¡± said Home.

    ¡°Right, I guess that was a silly question. You probably noticed more than I did, since I can only look in one direction at a time and there¡¯s only one of me to notice anything,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Just so,¡± said Home. Her demure half-smile gave her a truly dignified air. Dirt was sure that if she made an adult-sized dryad, it¡¯d be like having a second Duchess around.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know what all of it is, though,¡± said Dawn, picking up a gold ring from a basket on the floor and slipping it onto her little finger. It was far too big and she spun it around like a toy. ¡°I know what this is. But some things, we organized by shape.¡±

    ¡°So what do you want to do?¡± asked Callius, hands fidgety like he wanted to go play. ¡°Do you want us to move all this now?¡±

    ¡°At least enough to get to the scrolls. I can read them later, but I want to find out what they are first.¡±

    With that, Dirt handed the box of writing tools to Dawn and waved her out. She took it in one hand like it weighed nothing at all, and Dirt placed a second box on her other hand, one full of¡­ bathing implements, it looked like. Out she went.

    Callius was next, and then Home, and then all the others Dirt had named in the weeks before he and Socks left the forest to begin their journey. Sunset, a quiet girl who was always hanging around near Dawn; Dancer, a flighty girl who seldom looked like she was paying attention, even though she always was. Votorla, who had made up her own name from random sounds and wore a longer rough-spun tunic than anyone else, black with dirt along the bottom hem. Tooth, a boy who only interacted with Dirt if Callius wasn¡¯t around, since apparently one male was enough. Starwatcher, another girl. Chaser. Pathway. Gift.

    Dirt thought progress would be faster than it was, since another dryad appeared with arms outstretched as fast as he could turn around. But there was simply too much. This was more gold than the Duke had, by far. And more silver.

    And it wasn¡¯t all things for daily living. A chest, complete with lid, held spearheads, some in surprisingly good shape. A container that was more like a barrel held swords, one of which was in perfect condition, gleaming like it had been made yesterday. But most were things like jewelry, lamps and candlesticks, cutlery, cooking implements, and so on. Objects of gold or silver that a normal household might only have a few of, to bring out on special occasions. But with a city the size of Turicum, it was wealth to fill a temple¡¯s treasury several times over.

    A few boxes held hammerheads and similar tools, but they were so rusted, cracked, and flaking, that they¡¯d never be restored. Someone might want to look at them for ideas, though, so it couldn¡¯t hurt to keep them around. Scissors. Dirt had forgotten all about scissors. He grabbed a lock of his dark brown hair and wondered if he needed a haircut. No one in Ogena had said anything, so probably not.

    Finally, Dirt could climb over the last few things and get to the scrolls. The dryads continued clearing the room while he rubbed his hands and gently looked them over to see what they were. Many of them were not preserved against time like the primer on magic in his backpack¡ªthey were only preserved by not having been touched for three thousand years, except perhaps by Prisca¡¯s bony fingers. Those, he lifted with extreme care and opened just far enough to see what they were.

    The library was a treasure greater than anything else in the world, to his eyes. Things Avitus might have known once, but which were likely completely lost to the world. Biographies and genealogies of emperors and noble families. Accounts of wars. Medical treatises, natural philosophy documenting birds or plants, mathematics and geometry and engineering.

    Each scroll he touched filled him with a sense of recognition, but incomplete, which longed to be fulfilled. Each one was harder to put down than the last. Each subject reminded him of something he had once known but had since forgotten. He had known all about cattle husbandry, once. And olive horticulture. And arguments on the nature of Being.

    The nostalgia was so powerful that he was almost surprised at the size of his child-sized hand as he held the scrolls. Avitus yearned to stop and pick one¡ªany one at all¡ªand race to his villa, plop down in his favorite divan, and read it the whole way through without moving, even if it took all night. Fabia was young enough to stay up with him and keep the lamps lit, and she enjoyed hearing him read. She was wasted as a handmaiden. He¡¯d probably have to sell her to a¡­

    Dirt tried to hold on to the memory, but of course it slipped away. It had never really been there, just the outlines, like everything else. A name with no face, a memory of smelling but without scent, of touching but without sensation. Empty lines with no color inside them, lines made of ash that blew away if disturbed.

    Then he found what he was looking for, and his hands trembled so much at the recognition that he almost dropped it. Pomponius¡¯ Natiuitas Deorum. The birth of the gods, giving the most accepted account of how all things came to be.

    Fear kept him from unrolling it any farther at first, not even far enough to read the first line. Avitus knew he loved the gods, whatever they were. They were no longer recognized or even spoken of, leaving a strange gap in public life among the Duke¡¯s people that everyone pretended to ignore. Even so, there was still something there, a shadow resting in the undercurrents of human thought and society. The Duke had claimed to know nothing of it. Avitus suspected, however, that he did so more out of duty than conviction.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    And furthermore, Avitus had a strong suspicion that he himself had harmed the gods, or cast them out somehow, or even killed them. From the scraps of information he¡¯d been able to gather so far, that seemed the most likely cause of the death of the Empire. The rise of the great trees, the freedom of the great wolves, and his own face on that great Enemy¡ªhow much had Avitus caused, for good or ill? Mostly ill.

    It almost seemed blasphemy to him, who was perhaps the gods¡¯ enemy, to read of them now, so long after their calamity and ruin. A true offense, marked by deeper justice than his mortal heart could measure. But despite all that, he unrolled and read:

    Due to the increasingly popular belief, by which unthinking men are led into folly by fools, it is appropriate to lay out at the first what the truest cause of these things is. For many say that all things were once a single, raw, confused mass, which they call chaos. But this is not the case. For if there were matter in that eternal before-time, even unformed and immeasurable, then there must also have been thought, and time, and space, and knowledge, and truth, for those things are as fundamental as matter, and indeed, more so, for they measure it. And if there was a mind to measure chaos, then it was never chaos.

    And if there were never truth, or thought, or knowledge, in the beginning, then whence could these things come? The Critians say the Great Primeval is he who brought himself into being, but he could not have done it, for before he existed, he did not exist to cause anything, even himself.

    No, if a world there is, a world there must always have been. This earth, speaking only of itself and its form and not any particular thing that was ever found upon it, is perfectly eternal. For even as we poor creatures farm our grain from the dust only to ourselves rot away into dust in the end, the land itself always remains, sometimes above water, and sometimes beneath; sometimes rich and sometimes poor, once rock, then sand, then soil, then sand again, which blasts away in the wind to reveal the rock.

    The gods are the mighty ones who take possession of a part of it, as a man claims a field. This one claims the clouds and rain, and that one claims the farmland; this one claims the men of war who conquer, and that one the peaceable women who nourish.

    They must be eternal to claim lasting dominion over that which is eternal and reshape it to their will. Thus we¡ª

    WHAT YOU ARE READING IS NONSENSE, said Father, his voice piercing Avitus¡¯ growing reverie so strongly that he became Dirt again.

    Dirt blinked and lowered the scroll. Home was watching him patiently, a soothing, placid look on her face. If she¡¯d heard the great wolf, she gave no sign of it.

    SKIP TO THE LISTS IF YOU WANT TO KNOW THEIR NAMES, BUT MOST OF WHAT THE HUMANS SAY ABOUT THE GODS IS NONSENSE. NONE OF THEM WERE THERE.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Dirt.

    YOU ARE FILLING MY SON¡¯S HEAD WITH TOO MUCH NONSENSE ALREADY.

    ¡°For what, dear Dirt?¡± asked Home.

    ¡°Nothing. Never mind,¡± he said. It was a strange feeling, having so much cast into doubt before he¡¯d even had a chance to digest it. Was he relieved, or annoyed? He couldn¡¯t tell. But if there were false things in here, then he didn¡¯t want to believe them, and if Father was going to offer him the slightest bit of help, then Dirt wasn¡¯t going to be anything other than grateful.

    So he put a smile on that quickly sank into the rest of him, and rolled through the scroll, skipping the long discussions about the nature of matter and so on. It didn¡¯t take long for the smile to be completely sincere, either, because how lucky was he to know a falsehood from the start, especially such an important one? It didn¡¯t take long to find the lists.

    Above them first is imperious Caelpater, whose vastness outstretches all things, who is the unending sky of Day, beneath whom even the conquering sun rides in obedience.

    Those who rule are called by the name of his wife, Domina, who is Domina Noctis. The stars are her jewels, more glorious than every other creation. She joins hands with her husband to encircle all things in the cycle of dawn and dusk.

    Just the names, remembered Dirt. Whatever was said about them might be wrong. So he had two so far, a father and a mother, Caelpater and Domina, rulers of day and night.

    Next was their daughter, Lucina, a goddess of lamps and indoor light, and also of midwives and childbirth. Then a son, Pastorus, the shepherd of the dead, whose twisted statue Dirt had encountered in that giant tomb.

    He started skimming. These weren¡¯t the names he wanted to see. He could come back and memorize them later, and there were plenty. He could sense the proximity to the information he most desired, the lines he most wanted to read, and skimmed faster and faster until he found it:

    Least of these is bright Melodia, also called Mistress of Song, whose daughters by Oraculus are the Muses, inspirers of art. The Muses could inspire nothing without her, for she is the truth behind them all, the harmony of many voices and the rhythm of life and movement. The steady drumming of footsteps upon the earth is hers, and thus it is she who watches over travelers by day and night, eager for the cheer they know at journey¡¯s end.

    Avitus lowered the scroll and stared at nothing, wondering at the affection he felt toward the name. No, not affection¡ªreverence. Melodia. Why did that name hold such meaning for him? It sounded like gods were people, of a sort, so maybe he had known her? Or was it because he was a traveler now, and she was a goddess for travelers?

    ¡°Home, do you know anything about the gods?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I do not. But I am sure you will find what you wish to know among these writings,¡± she said.

    Now that he looked around a bit more, the room was nearly empty now, only a few stray baskets or pots here and there. He¡¯d been so focused looking at all the scrolls that he¡¯d missed all the work.

    ¡°Oh, was there a collection of little figures? Little statues of people?¡± he asked, quickly rolling the scroll back up and setting it in its nook.

    ¡°There was. Come,¡± she said, holding out her hand. He took it and she led him out of the library, down the shadowed hallway, and back into the main room, the lecture hall. The dryads had set all the boxes and chests and baskets out in an orderly grid, with just enough space to walk between them. Seeing the whole floor filled with treasure reminded him once more just how much it was.

    Home led him right to what he was looking for, a wide box full of figurines of gold or tarnished bronze or silver. Dirt pulled them out one by one, hoping he¡¯d recognize the one he was looking for. A soldier in armor. A nude boxer. A woman carrying a jug. A man captured by writhing snakes. A shepherd and a wolf. A boy sitting and pulling a thorn from his foot. A woman with bird wings in a flowing dress. A nude young man with bird wings. A nude woman bathing.

    A woman with a crown of stars caught his eye. That must be Domina, the goddess, judging from the star shapes all over her dress. In the statue, her legs had been broken and she was kneeling on raw bone, weeping upward. It made him feel sick and he quickly put it back and kept looking.

    Then he found another god, which he recognized only because of how deformed and injured it was. It was a nude man leaning on a staff, but his whole body was punctured by swords and arrows and one of his shoulders was dislocated. A shirtless goddess on her knees trying to gather her guts back up, a god holding his own severed leg against his chest, face twisted in despair.

    He found her. Melodia, the Mistress of Song. He knew it was her at once but couldn¡¯t say how. She was nude except a crown of flowers in her hair and shoes that made him think of dancing. Both arms had been severed at the elbow and lay on the ground near her feet. Her eyes had been stabbed out, complete with trails of gold to mimic the blood leaking down her face. Her ears and nose had been cut off and were nowhere to be seen, and her mouth was open in an eternal scream.

    Avitus knew he¡¯d feel something when he found her, from the first moment he¡¯d thought to look. But he wasn¡¯t sure what it¡¯d be. Sadness, perhaps. Revulsion, terror, relief. Perhaps all or none of those. He had not expected guilt, though, and guilt was all he had in him. Terrible guilt, like the reckoning of Heaven standing over him awaiting the merest whisper of Justice to come and crush him.

    He had caused this somehow, either directly or indirectly, and if anything still remained of the gods, surely it was the curse of their wrath, waiting only until it found him to give him suffering greater than their own.

    Guilt like physical pain wracked him, coupled with cruel terror at what that guilt meant. He couldn¡¯t escape it, nor could he find relief in tears or laughter. He was sick with it.

    Avitus had wondered somewhere in the back of his mind whether he might someday undo what he¡¯d done. Now he trembled to think he might actually succeed and bring the gods back into the world in the fulness of their power and glory. He was a living sacrilege. The idea of facing them, revived and whole and angrier than storms, made his fingers tremble so bad he dropped the little golden statue of Melodia. It clattered as it fell among the others in the box.

    ¡°Dirt, are you all right?¡± asked Home, her face now full of worry.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 5

    The dryads looked at him with mixed expressions, some confused and curious, others concerned. He gazed back, wondering how much of his inner horror was showing on his face.

    ¡°Dear Dirt, I see you are troubled. Please tell us why,¡± said Home, in a voice that was probably meant to sound tender, but didn¡¯t. Not quite.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ Well, I¡¯m not sure how to say it. I guess¡­¡± he said, momentarily losing his ability to speak. Guilt burned him. He wanted to weep. ¡°I¡¯m afraid. I think I did something horrible a long time ago and I don¡¯t know what to do about it.¡±

    ¡°What do you think you might have done, since you do not remember?¡± asked Home.

    ¡°Broke the world. Harmed the gods. Put humans on the path to extinction. I think it¡¯s all my fault. I can¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m scared, Home. Everyone. I¡¯m scared of what I did,¡± said Dirt, loudly. He couldn¡¯t control the volume of his speech and his words came out unevenly. ¡°I don¡¯t want to know anymore. I can¡¯t face it.¡±

    Dirt looked at his friends, so many of them, all eager to console him now that they knew he was troubled. But all that eagerness looked desolate to him, since he knew they didn¡¯t really understand. Couldn¡¯t. They knew nothing of pain and very little of fear. They lived lives of unbroken joy, dancing in worlds he couldn¡¯t perceive. What could they know of guilt?

    Home wrapped him in a slow hug, resting his face against her shoulder, and he began to feel relieved. His body, his creature, knew the feeling of comfort even if his mind couldn¡¯t justify it. She felt perfectly lifelike, from the tickling strands of her green hair to the softness of her wooden flesh, even the bones underneath it. It wasn¡¯t easy, he knew, putting so much detail into a dryad. She might not understand, but she was sincere, and she really did love him. That was worth something.

    ¡°I do not know how to comfort you. What else can you tell me of what you are experiencing?¡± she said.

    ¡°It¡¯s guilt,¡± he admitted quietly. ¡°I feel guilty. It¡¯ll go away eventually. I just don¡¯t know if it should, because what if I deserve it?¡±

    Callius patted Dirt¡¯s head and said, ¡°Would it help if we gave you something else to think about?¡±

    Dirt grinned slightly, despite himself. What silly creatures they were, he thought. They really had no idea what to do with him. They were like a bunch of humans trying to figure out why a bird was angry.

    Dawn said, ¡°Guilt is the pain of regretting your own actions, but you don¡¯t remember what you did, right? So you shouldn¡¯t feel any guilt. It doesn¡¯t make sense. You can stop now.¡±

    That got a tiny chuckle out of him, more of a snort. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work that way, but thanks. I¡¯m starting to feel better, though.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s walk until you have recovered, and then we¡¯ll give you something else to think about. Perhaps we can come back here another time,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°Oh, I definitely want to come back. I still want to read all those scrolls and look through all this stuff. And see the rest of the building,¡± said Dirt. ¡°As much as I can before Father lets me and Socks meet again. I think it¡¯ll only be a few days.¡±

    ¡°Come, then,¡± said Callius, taking Dirt¡¯s hand and pulling him away from Home.

    Starwatcher took his other hand. ¡°I am close,¡± she said. ¡°Come to me.¡± She was thicker now than when they first met and it reminded him of a plumpish girl he¡¯d briefly talked to in Ogena. Her face was still about the same, though, and her hand didn¡¯t feel any different from the rest. He wondered if she wanted to have another footrace, like she had so many times before.

    Callius and Starwatcher led him out of the wide doorway of the schola and onto the old marble pathway. He let his lights wink out behind him and felt the tiny trickle of mana cease. They walked while holding hands and swinging their arms like the children of Ogena did, and it helped him soothe away the turmoil inside him. Partially, anyway. Enough to keep it off his face.

    Before they stepped off the path and into the ferns, Dirt stopped and rolled up his pant legs up past his knees. They were already getting dirty around the hem, but since the dryads had made so many tunics, skirts, or shorts for themselves, he felt awkward just stripping like he might otherwise have done.

    The walk was increasingly adventurous the farther they went, with all the dryads walking at differing speeds or showing variety in some other way. Some played games with each other, racing around at top speed and filling the air with laughter. It lent the forest a very different atmosphere than he was used to. The trees tended to be quiet unless they were talking to him and preferred to walk behind him instead of in front. At least, that¡¯s how it had been before. Usually. Now they were everywhere, acting like the crowds of children Dirt had met in Ogena.

    He wondered if they would age alongside him, all their dryads growing up the same speed he did, or if they would prefer to stay as children. And now that he thought about it, would he actually grow? Mother had said his ¡®time¡¯ was one of the things he¡¯d lost in the void, so did that mean he¡¯d get more? Would he grow up a second time? Or stay this size forever? Or just fall over dead any day now, since he¡¯d already been old before?

    ¡°I have a question. Are you all going to make your dryads grow up at the same speed as me?¡± he asked no one in particular. ¡°What about when Marina comes? Will some of you be adults around her?¡±

    Callius was the one who answered. ¡°At first, we all wanted our dryads to be like you. But now we understand that humans at different ages have different roles in society and interact with each other in different ways, and it is more complicated. What do you prefer?¡±

    Dirt had to think about that for a moment. How would he have viewed Callius if he was an old man, or Dawn if she was a little girl, younger than him? Or any combination other than what they were now? ¡°I was about to say, you should be whatever best fits how you think of yourself. But then I remembered most of you are thousands of years old and I don¡¯t want to be surrounded by only old people.¡±

    Callius laughed. ¡°Just because I am comfortably past three thousand years old does not mean I view myself as old. There¡¯s a small chance you¡¯re older than me, anyway. Maybe I should be a little shorter.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Sure. We didn¡¯t live as long when the Gardener was here, and we were lesser beings than we are now. I don¡¯t know how old I was when she ceased to be among us,¡± said Callius. He squeezed Dirt¡¯s hand and added, ¡°Consider this when you are tempted to feel guilty again, by the way. Even if you did something worthy of guilt, it wasn¡¯t all bad, was it?¡±

    Dirt nodded. ¡°The wolves, either. Father mentioned once that the gods limited them, too. I think the world would be less wonderful without you and them in it. But on the other hand, I didn¡¯t know what goblins and gryphons were when I first saw them, so they didn¡¯t exist back then either, and they¡¯re horrible. Goblins are, anyway. And all the other nasty things Socks and I keep running into. I guess what I need to do is figure out what I did before I spend any more time feeling bad about it.¡±

    Behind him, Home said, ¡°Dirt, how do you view me now?¡±

    He turned and found her in adult form. The skirt she had on didn¡¯t go all the way around anymore and looked like more of a long loincloth, tied in the back. Her childish face had filled out into one full of patient grace, with features of angular beauty that still seemed motherly, like a sculpture. All of her looked like a sculpture, round and feminine. She seemed about average height for a woman, a head taller than he was, maybe a little more. Dirt smiled and said, ¡°Honestly, about the same. It suits you.¡±

    ¡°Come, embrace me, dear Dirt. I am curious,¡± she said, holding out her arms.

    Dirt let go of Callius and Starwatcher¡¯s hands and hugged her. His head rested against her bosom, on the flat space between her breasts and her chin. She still smelled the same, that gentle earthy, plant smell, and her body was the cool temperature of the air and soil. She was not a mother or a big sister, but she was not unlike those things.

    He stepped back and looked her over once again, then said, ¡°It suits you perfectly. I like it.¡±

    Home smiled in a way that was more girlish than womanly, with a hint of mischief in her eye. ¡°You look different from up here,¡± she said. ¡°I can see how messy your hair is.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± he said, feeling it to decide how bad it was. Callius laughed.

    ¡°I will fetch a comb later, and you will bathe,¡± said Home.

    A bath might be nice, but Dirt had a sinking feeling that Marina had been telling them things, things he¡¯d rather not have them know.

    ¡°I guess. Let¡¯s keep going for now, though,¡± he said.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    They led him to Starwatcher¡¯s tree, which was one of the closest to the schola. Tooth¡¯s tree was the only one closer, and he was nowhere to be seen. Her roots twisted into a recognizable swirling shape, at least most of them did, and she¡¯d said it was a coincidence but he didn¡¯t completely believe her.

    ¡°You have reached me. Now it is time to go up,¡± she said. Her eyes had an eagerness in them that didn¡¯t make it to her voice.

    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m not doing this again!¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m feeling a lot better already. I don¡¯t need to do that to recover.¡±

    Callius laughed again. ¡°I knew he¡¯d say that. No, silly, we¡¯re not going to try and kill you. It¡¯s time to show you what¡¯s in the branches.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you mentioned something like that a long time ago. So there¡¯s something other than just birds?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°It was not the Mother of Wolves who gave us your language like she did her pups. Nor was it you we learned from. The physical process of speaking, yes, but the words themselves? You¡¯ll have to go up if you want to find out,¡± said Callius. ¡°I¡¯ll come so I can catch you if you fall and the others will be waiting at the top.¡±

    All around him, the dryads popped right out of existence, vanishing instantly without so much as a wave goodbye. It seemed like it should make a sound when they did that, but it didn¡¯t.

    Starwatcher¡¯s dryad didn¡¯t disappear. Instead, it went completely inert as she withdrew her control of it. Dirt glanced at her mind and found her already working to create a winding set of steps to ascend her trunk.

    And just like that, the forest was how it had been at first. If he didn¡¯t look at the schola behind him, there weren¡¯t many other buildings around. The scenery was as flat and empty as it had been that first day. An ocean of dark green ferns, broken only by the impossibly giant tree trunks. The air grew still without anyone speaking, the silence growing until it encircled him like a blanket. Overhead, the gentle dappled greens of the canopy still hid the entire sky, letting not a single ray of sunshine through. The forest was eternal again. Quiet and sacred.

    Callius clapped him on the back and pushed him forward. ¡°Go, friend Dirt. You can take as many rests as you want.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Actually, why can¡¯t you take me up there with root travel?¡±

    ¡°Because we don¡¯t want to,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°Any reason why?¡±

    ¡°Nope! Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Dirt sighed sarcastically and hopped onto the nearest pale gray root and ran up to the trunk, enjoying how his bare feet slapped on the flat bark. He remembered that, too. Did that even count as nostalgia? Especially today, when he¡¯d been nostalgic about things buried for thousands of years? Why not. Sure it did. It was a day for nostalgia, recent or otherwise.

    Dirt kept the mana cycling inside as he hurried up the stairs, hundreds and hundreds of them winding around and around Starwatcher¡¯s trunk. They were fairly regular this time, and closer together so it wasn¡¯t a struggle. Still, he kept a careful eye out for some trick. The height started making him nervous around two hundred paces up, when he stopped being quite so sure he¡¯d be able to land uninjured, if he had to.

    It¡¯s not that he didn¡¯t trust the dryads, not quite. It¡¯s just that their idea of helping him didn¡¯t always coincide with his. So he slowed a bit, stepping carefully and listening for sounds in Starwatcher¡¯s trunk that might indicate she was about to do something sudden.

    Fortunately, the mana made the actual walking a lot easier. The higher up he got, the closer the trees looked to each other. Down on the ground, they were hundreds of paces apart, a huge distance, but up here, the same effect that made everything small when it was far away seemed to shrink them too.

    Callius said nothing, just followed him closely. Close enough to grab him if he slipped. And if they both fell together, then who knew what the dryad would do? Turn into a giant fluffy bed before they hit the ground? Grow wings and fly like a bird? He was almost tempted to fall and find out. Almost. He didn¡¯t want to find out the plan was for him to shatter every bone in his body. For his benefit, of course.

    Halfway up, the forest seemed unrecognizable. The tree trunks looked thin now, clumped together like a friendly little grove. He could make out separate groups of leaves and trace the branches that stretched everywhere across the sky. Where one tree¡¯s branches met another, they wove together, sharing the space and brushing gently in the high winds that never made it down below the canopy.

    Surprisingly, the air got warmer the higher he went, not colder. That was the opposite of going up a mountain. It stayed just as humid, though, and by the time he was three-quarters the way up, his shirt was starting to get drenched in sweat.

    Time for a rest, he decided. A steady flow of mana kept his legs moving and energized, but it was still effort, and it was getting tiring. He turned and sat, then pulled his damp shirt off over his head and set it on a stair.

    ¡°You¡¯re leaking a lot of water,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°It¡¯s sweat. It happens when I get too hot, or exercise too hard,¡± said Dirt.

    Callius smirked. ¡°I know. I can also tell you all the substances it helps purge from your body.¡±

    ¡°Really? Like what? Salt and water?¡±

    ¡°More than that. Perhaps the most surprising thing would be metal. There is a tiny amount of metal, more than one kind, in your sweat.¡±

    ¡°Metal? Really?¡± asked Dirt, looking at the clear drops of it on his forearms.

    ¡°Really. Zinc, copper, iron, lead, and two others that don¡¯t have names in your language. Those are the most prominent ones,¡± said Callius. ¡°Here, let me take that shirt. It¡¯s not drying out any time soon.¡±

    Dirt wrung it out, curious to see if any liquid would drip out. None did. He handed it to Callius, who acted like he was tossing it down, but it disappeared before it left his fingers. ¡°We¡¯ll leave it in your house.¡±

    ¡°Which one?¡±

    ¡°Which one do you want to use?¡±

    ¡°Would Home be offended if I wanted to use my old villa?¡±

    ¡°Friend Dirt, what do you think my answer is going to be?¡±

    ¡°Well, I just don¡¯t want her to be sad. But I want to sleep in my villa tonight.¡±

    ¡°Then so it shall be,¡± said Callius. He ran a finger across Dirt¡¯s forehead, then licked the sweat off his fingertip. ¡°Mmm, metal,¡± he said.

    ¡°Is that a joke? Do I really have metal in my sweat?¡±

    ¡°No and yes.¡±

    ¡°Does Socks have it in his?¡±

    ¡°Socks doesn¡¯t sweat, but his urine is similar to yours.¡±

    Dirt tried to remember. ¡°I thought he did, after I sat in one place for a long time.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but it wasn¡¯t sweat.¡±

    ¡°How do you know?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Because we would have detected it on his fur, either when he sheds or when we touch him. We would smell it evaporating or see it in his pawprints. The Mother of Wolves will not let us analyze one of her pups properly, so we infer more than we can verify. But I am certain he does not sweat. He cools himself by panting,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°It bothers me that you already know more about the physical world than I do, and I live here,¡± said Dirt jovially.

    Callius snorted and gave him a good-natured smirk. ¡°Look down. Can you see Starwatcher¡¯s dryad down there?¡±

    Dirt leaned over, just barely, and looked down. It was a long, long, way down. Far enough down he put a hand on Callius to keep his balance, just in case. ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. You are very small. Now come on, we¡¯re almost there.¡±

    They stood and kept going. It was only two or three hundred paces now, close enough Dirt thought he could start to make out individual leaves. They were probably huge, but it was still a long way up. There wasn¡¯t much else to see yet, other than a vast network of branches. And as badly as he wanted to keep his neck craned upward, he had to look at the steps or risk missing one and slipping. And finding out what Callius¡¯ emergency plan was.

    He looked with his mind-sight and froze in his tracks. There was something up there. Something plural. Things. And they weren¡¯t trees, or even plants. They were something else, their minds full of patterns and flows and streams rather than discrete observations or ideas. And they were having fun. They were playing, whatever they were.

    That was enough to get Dirt moving. He practically raced the rest of the way up, mana flowing freely and all his focus going to making sure his feet landed squarely where they should. Before he knew it, he reached the end of the steps and stepped out onto a branch, the lowest one, just as wide as the roots so far below.

    Too far down to make out, now that he looked. The dark green of the ferns camouflaged the forest floor and made it look like it didn¡¯t exist at all. It was more unnerving than when he saw the open blue sky for the first time. It reminded him of the night sky but without any stars.

    ¡°Higher up,¡± said Callius. ¡°We¡¯re not there yet.¡±

    There was at least another hundred paces of tree above him, but from here, at this angle, he saw spots of blue peeking in between the leaves. They were bigger than he was, wide and round and full, with a series of small points jutting out.

    The mysterious minds seemed to have taken notice of him, but he was only guessing that was the case. They had a sense of anticipation to them.

    Up they climbed, sometimes using steps and sometimes hopping from branch to branch or simply climbing. The foliage got smaller and thicker the higher they went, making it easier for Dirt to keep scrambling upward.

    They ascended until Dirt¡¯s head poked up from the highest crowning leaves and they could go no higher. The sky was brilliant overhead, the sun startlingly bright against the deep blue. He¡¯d never seen anything like the canopy, which rose and fell all around like immense hills with no hint of the cavernous emptiness beneath them. It was serene, but not somber and sacred like the forest floor. There was motion up here, vibrant activity.

    One slip and he¡¯d fall so far he could take a nap before he hit the ground, but it didn¡¯t seem that way. It seemed like he¡¯d found a whole other world and he could climb out and race across the leaves to find new horizons. And honestly, maybe he could. The leaf stalks were as thick as his arm.

    The birds were having no trouble, certainly. There were birds everywhere, mostly little noisy white ones that chirped and darted around with great excitement. A flock of larger ones in the distance flew over the forest in a V pattern. Another surprise was the variety of insects. One crawled across a leaf near his hand, smaller than a fingernail, and several more flew on wobbling paths nearby. None of the minds he was looking for belonged to birds or bugs, though. Now that he thought about it, the feeling of activity the place had had more to do with the mysterious invisible minds than the chirping birds.

    ¡°Do you see them yet?¡± asked Callius, popping up so close to Dirt the dryad¡¯s hair tickled his cheek.

    ¡°See what? I see a bunch of minds, but nothing with my eyes. What are they? I¡¯ve never seen anything like them.¡±

    One was larger than the rest, full of countless threading pathways, all rushing through and around each other like a vibrant knot of pure being. Dirt couldn¡¯t tell if he was looking at one long, tangled stream of thought, or hundreds all messed up together. There was absolutely nothing he recognized.

    ¡°Look closer. They might be hard to see,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°What am I looking for?¡±

    ¡°Elementals.¡±

    The large mind reached out to him, but instead of a mental connection, or something heard with his ears, he felt an electric shock. It tickled his mana vessel, reacting with the mana he still held inside him. A ripple appeared in the air around him, and for a moment he was terrified that it was the great eye again, but it wasn¡¯t. Gray fog, so thin and pale Dirt wasn¡¯t quite sure what it was, filled in the ripples and from one moment to the next, a huge face appeared directly above him. A woman¡¯s face, round, with wide eyes. She opened her mouth and a rush of wind washed over him, not strong enough to shake him out of the tree, but strong enough he held on tighter.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been wondering this whole time how you two would communicate. She lives mostly in the world of magic, like us. Good luck,¡± said Callius. He circled around to the other side of last thin branch, turned his feet into hands to hold on better, and relaxed to watch.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 6

    The wind ceased, but the huge face¡¯s mouth remained open, unmoving, like a cheap carving on a fountain. The faint fog that composed her form waxed, waned, then waxed again, and Dirt felt the temperature shifting around him as it happened.

    ¡°Hello?¡± he asked. There seemed to be a minor reaction in her mind, but it was lost in the tangle too quickly to tell what it was.

    Another gust of air blew over him, almost silently, despite his expectation her mouth would make some kind of whistling noise. It didn¡¯t, and that made the gusts of air seem to be blowing in from anywhere. Normal wind, instead of whatever this was.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, do you know how to speak using words? Or maybe you can think something really clearly for me?¡± he said. She seemed to be hearing him, but without any understanding that he could tell. He tried to follow her thoughts, but the tangles weren¡¯t anything concrete. They were a representation of a being comprised largely of motion itself.

    At the next gust, he thought he recognized something in her thoughts. A trace of himself, but not as a whole person¡ªit was a process, rather, a sensation like the wind itself would have as it passed over and around him. The smoothness of skin and the roughness of cloth. That gave him the insight he needed: it was his shape, perceived as a progression, as a motion. Front, then sides and arms, then his back, as it washed over him. That perception then slid wildly throughout the twisting threads of thought, chased and led by many, many others.

    Now more of what he saw in her mind started making sense. It contained more information than the trees¡¯ minds, startling amounts, even if less of it was¡­ analyzed? Acted on? It was the shapes of things, but understood like a map, perhaps. No, there was no use trying to compare it to human ideas. It was simply what the wind felt, and that was all.

    There was no use trying to put the images together into something he could recognize. There was no chance of that, with too many things moving too quickly. But if he held his attention on a single spot and simply tried to feel, to let it wash over him and experience it, he could almost understand.

    Dirt opened his eyes and took in the scenery again, enjoying how the brightness of the sun gave the greenery a hint of cheerful yellow, making it feel active. Very different from the darker greens far below in their quiet shadows.

    The gentle sound of rushing wind that stirred the leaves across vast distances in every direction filled his ears, punctuated by happily chirping birds. The flat face watched down from above, expressionless, and Dirt realized that wasn¡¯t really her. That was just an attempt to be recognizable, to let him see that she existed. No, the elemental had no body at all. She was alive all the same, though, a living band of motion that stretched past the horizons. No wonder her mind was so long, and so full of observations.

    ¡°What¡¯s her name?¡± he asked Callius, whispering at first. The rushing wind drowned him out, so he said it again, louder.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t tell you. I¡¯d have to think it, and I suspect you¡¯re too far to see my mind,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°Starwatcher, how about you? You¡¯re watching, right? Can you think her name for me?¡± asked Dirt.

    As if her name called her into being, Starwatcher formed her plump dryad on a nearby leaf, but it was hollow inside, having almost no weight. She looked like a frame, not a complete puppet. Her face was whole, but even if it hadn¡¯t been, he would have recognized her from her shape. Which, now that he thought about it, might be why she did it. How true would that be for any other dryad?

    ¡°I can think the name,¡± she said, her voice surprisingly normal. ¡°But be careful. The names of elementals are not like names for other things.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m ready, go ahead,¡± said Dirt.

    Starwatcher¡¯s mind pulsed in the way of trees, tremendous bundles of thought passing in cycles or waves, except the portion devoted to maintaining her dryad, which was smaller than usual. And a new section, disciplined in perfection down to a low hum, almost an emptiness like the minds of half-dead things. Into that space emerged a string of shapes and signs and patterns, each more arcane and bizarre than the last.

    Dirt recognized it well enough¡ªit was a glimpse into the world of Magic, which infused reality imperceptibly, like Spirit or the Dream. Dirt knew two words, for lack of a better term, from that world. Shaping wood and calling wind. The sign for wind, he found woven into the greater whole that Starwatcher showed him.

    The name of the elemental didn¡¯t appear all at once, either, like a normal name would. Her name was a process, not a discrete signifier. It would be like having a complete dance for a name, or a song, and if any part was left out or changed it wouldn¡¯t be the name anymore.

    ¡°One more time, please?¡± asked Dirt, doubting his ability to remember it even after twenty times. The dryad obliged, passing it through her mind once again, each section of it weaving into something new with each moment until the process was complete. Perhaps he could recognize it compared against similar things, but he certainly couldn¡¯t reproduce it yet.

    ¡°I guess the reason I need to be careful with her name is if I say it with mana, and get it wrong, something weird will happen? What¡¯ll happen if I do that and get it right?¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Dirt!¡± said Callius.

    ¡°What?¡±

    The dryad just looked at him with a blank expression.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dirt, breaking into a slow smile.

    ¡°The difference is it¡¯ll work from anywhere, as long as you¡¯re outside,¡± said Callius. ¡°So, do you have any ideas?¡±

    Dirt watched the gentle breezes shake the wind as far as he could see. Whether the elementals were the wind itself, or simply partakers in it he couldn¡¯t say. But they were not separate from it. While most winds returned to the sky and journeyed onward, some smaller currents of air twisted down into the branches and were lost, and the minds associated with them faded. They didn¡¯t seem to be dying, but perhaps they were. How long did a wind live?

    The round face hovering above him was only part of the great current of wind flowing across the treetops, and Dirt¡¯s body was hardly more than a tiny curiosity, a unique shape among so many similar things. The elemental knew where he was, though, and perhaps her face with her mouth that blew air was more like hands, trying to feel something in more detail.

    He searched the many pathways of her mind until he found himself again, the sensation of his skin and pants against the wind. It took great mental focus to follow it as it flowed through her thoughts, but into that spot he sent a wordless feeling of warm greeting. Hello.

    She touched his mana body again, the wind of her mouth causing electric sparks that danced all through him. He had no eyes for the world of magic, but he could sense the creation of shapes and patterns all around him as they manifested and faded.

    Starwatcher said, ¡°She is trying to play with you.¡± A gust of wind shook the leaf she was standing on, causing her to lean precariously to one side. Her feet were perfectly fixed, however, and she stayed put.

    Dirt closed his eyes and used all his mental focus on his mana vessel, doing his best to perceive what the elemental was doing. There were two problems. First, he could only barely sense any of it. His mind kept trying to turn what he experienced into something more familiar, like a feeling of touch or an image of sight. But that¡¯s not what it was. The more it became like something in the physical world, the less true it was.

    The second problem was that none of the magic happening around him was doing anything. It was all just potential, none of it made real.

    After a time spent in earnest focus, it got a little easier, but the elemental seemed to be losing interest. She was trying to interact with him, and he was acting like a statue.

    Was there a bit of magic he could do without actually completing it? A potential with no actualization? There was, and it was so instinctive to him he hardly even thought about it.

    He raised his hand to snap and create a small light, but he left his fingers pressed, hovering in that moment between preparation and completion. A magical pattern manifested near him, one which he knew so well he¡¯d never even looked at it. Light.

    The elemental¡¯s mind pulsed with sudden excitement and drew around the magical symbol for light with patterns of her own, expanding it into poetry. Dirt watched in awe, holding the inchoate light with all his strength, as she worked. One piece of her efforts stood out to him somehow. Just that one part, but something about it seemed familiar and tickled his curiosity fiercely.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Then it hit him¡ªhe knew it from the magical primer scroll, and unconsciously long before that. He¡¯d just seen it yesterday, in fact. The written representation was a poor substitute, but it meant ¡®growth¡¯ in the sense of expanding to reach within prescribed limits.

    That was it! He wasn¡¯t sure whether to be proud of humans for getting it so close, or ashamed at how inadequate it was. Was that the limit of human magic? Scrawling out half-understood magical ideas and fueling them with power and hoping they worked?

    No, proud. He should be proud. How had they even done it, without any real guidance? If only he could go back in time and ask himself.

    Dirt shook off his focus and his awareness returned fully to the world, almost like waking from a dream. ¡°I figured it out! Callius, can you tell her I¡¯ll be back? I need to read some more. I need my scroll in my backpack, too, wherever that ended up. Can you send me to the schola again? No, wait, I¡¯ll tell her. I¡¯ll try,¡± said Dirt, so excited he was in danger of babbling.

    He quickly sent the elemental two emotions, one of growing affection and one of temporary farewell. Hopefully she¡¯d understand, or maybe the trees could fill her in. He doubted she¡¯d go anywhere, since she was in so many places already.

    There were so many things he needed to try! He almost jumped out of the tree and risked his mana being insufficient to keep him from going splat when he hit the ground. No, he could summon wind below him and have it blow upward to slow him down! He just needed to add this and maybe this to the magical word the dryads had taught him.

    Best not to risk it, though. Breaking your bones hurt. ¡°Can you send me down with root travel, Starwatcher? Please?¡±

    ¡°I think our dear Dirt is excited,¡± said Callius, glassy eyes sparkling with shared amusement. ¡°What did you figure out?¡±

    ¡°Oh, well, I think if I take another look at the¡ª¡± He vanished into pure speed, bouncing this way and that, and landed with a sudden thud near the colonnaded entry to the schola. He laughed into silence and jumped to his feet. Callius had done that on purpose! Dirt really needed to come up with a way to play a joke on a tree.

    Dirt took deep breaths to wash out his dizziness, but it wasn¡¯t so bad this time since he hadn¡¯t come far. It was still quite a marked difference from above, though. Up there, it was warm and bright and windy, full of noise and motion. Down here, it was dim and silent and pleasantly cool.

    He wasted no time and snapped a couple lights into existence before any dryads had even appeared. They were just starting to arrive, some forming anew and others popping into existence, probably sent by root travel. Dirt ran inside, ignoring all the boxes in the main hall, and turned down the hallway to the right, his bare feet slapping the stone and echoing loudly.

    Dirt was running so fast he slammed into the ancient wooden door frame to slow himself down and bounced into the room. He checked each scroll as fast as he could without damaging them, looking for texts on magic. FOR THE PROSPERITY OF CATTLE. That was one. He gently set it near his feet. SCRYING AND ALL USEFUL IMPLEMENTS. That was another. THE HAND. He put that one with the others.

    By the time he¡¯d gone through them all, he¡¯d found twenty non-magical texts that had sparked some recognition in him, things he knew he¡¯d read and loved as Avitus. But even better, he¡¯d found several dozen magical treatises of varying usefulness. THE MEASUREMENTS OF THE HEAVENS, for one, had more geometry in it than magic, but it had some divination constructs that should prove useful.

    The room had about thirty dryads in it now, too, and Dawn in particular kept reading over his shoulder. He could tell from how they shifted about anxiously that they were curious, or at least that they wanted him to think they were.

    ¡°Here¡¯s what I figured out from the elementals. See these drawings? They¡¯re sort of how a human would perceive a pattern in the world of magic. I think that¡¯s how we used to do it, long ago. Gather the right patterns, put them in the right configuration, and then feed it mana. They¡¯re crude, but they¡¯re close. It feels so primitive now! But I guess it worked,¡± said Dirt, rolling through the text to find the next schematic.

    ¡°And what will you do with them?¡± asked Dawn, almost into his ear.

    ¡°Well, this, I don¡¯t think this will work to talk with her if I just draw them. But if I can find the real meaning behind each one and how it¡¯s really supposed to look, then I should be able to use that. I already know a few and there are others that I¡¯m remembering as soon as I see them from when I was Avitus,¡± he said. ¡°I think I might be able to speak with her well enough to learn the rest as I go.¡±

    ¡°And speak with us too. Human language is so weird,¡± complained Dawn.

    ¡°Maybe, but it¡¯s pretty good at expressing human thoughts,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Then your thoughts are weird, too. Soft folds of flesh, and you blow air over them to make them vibrate, then shape the vibrations with a wet tongue and teeth and lips, and somehow that¡¯s your thoughts,¡± said Dawn.

    ¡°No, the thoughts are the words, not the flapping tongue itself. It¡¯s not that different. How is this¡ª¡± he said, manifesting the word for light in the magical world, hoping they could detect it, ¡°any different from just saying ¡®light?¡¯¡±

    ¡°Because the first one will make a real light appear, and the flappy flesh sound won¡¯t,¡± said Dawn.

    ¡°Do not be distressed, friend Dirt,¡± said Home. ¡°You are strange, but we also adore you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know. You¡¯re just teasing me. But Dawn has a point. Humans have a bunch of words for light, like in my language and the language of the Camayans. Different words for the same thing. So the words signify a thing, but they aren¡¯t the thing itself. I think the difference is, maybe the magic world¡¯s word is the thing itself. Or part of it,¡± said Dirt. Now his mind was spinning with too many things at once. Why did they have to bring up philosophy?

    Home said, ¡°That magic word for light is not the light itself. It is the action of a will on the world of magic, suited to a specific purpose. Here, watch.¡±

    The woman created a ball of wood in her outstretched palm and tossed it into the air. ¡°It is like my hand, tossing the ball. It is not the ball; it is the cause of the tossing. We know all things by the processes that create and comprise them.¡±

    Dirt nodded and said, ¡°Okay, that might be helpful to know, actually. So if¡­ hmm. Okay, let me read for a little bit.¡±

    He put down the scroll he was reading and picked up THE HAND, since that looked like it¡¯d be the most informative. And it was. It was an advanced guidebook on how to operate on the world directly, making things slow down or speed up, helping to lift heavy objects, and so on.

    It felt more and more familiar the more he read it, but strangely, it filled him with dismay instead of nostalgia. Avitus had known this text, or the author of it, perhaps, and disagreed strongly with some points. That feeling of frustration still lingered.

    And justifiably so, because at least a third of the diagrams in the scroll didn¡¯t look like they did anything at all. For example, this spell here had a complex set of diagrams and contained several words that Dirt was sure were correct. Lift was one, and guide was another. But the author had labeled a tangle scrawl as ¡®This gives stone the weight of wood¡¯ and Dirt was almost certain it was made up.

    Indeed, if he thought about each word and let it manifest into the magic world, without giving it any power, of course, many of them sort of slid into shape. Others came apart, and that one¡ªthe one about weight¡ªcouldn¡¯t be manifested at all.

    Time sped by until the dryads made him stop to eat and drink. It was a good thing they did, too, because he needed it after all that sweating. His throat was parched but he¡¯d been ignoring it, lost in reading. And after that, it was back to studying.

    Avitus felt just like his old self, but without all the joint pain. Here he was, sitting on a flat stone floor like it was nothing, reading. What a delight that was. How old had he been, before? Old enough just sitting could be troublesome. No longer, though. And what pleasure could there be like a new text? Especially one that proved useful somehow. And these were all new texts, in every way that mattered.

    He lost himself over and over in deep lakes of new information, some of it familiar like something recalled, but far from all. The most gainful things he learned were the new words, or seeing how a word might be modified. After one text he suddenly jumped to his feet and snapped his fingers to make a new light, this one blue instead of candle-yellow, because he was able to recognize the part of it that gave it color and change it. Then another, green. And another as a ball the size of his fist instead of a tiny glowing spot, by adding two new symbols that spoke of shape and size. Shape, as expressed in the world of magic and then brought to being in the physical world, proved to be the single most complicated part of any magical word.

    The relations that these humans had known were sound, diagrammed in their proper places, but Avitus wondered if they¡¯d ever done much directly. Well, there was one thing, he supposed. Snapping his fingers to make light. Perhaps that had been used as much to prove his mastery as to see in the dark.

    After all, every text agreed on the methods. Drawings, using chalk or paint or whatever else, various ceremonial implements like daggers and candles and gemstones and bones. Rituals to follow, invocations of names and powers. Some were simple, but most were complex. And, as far as Avitus could tell, mostly pointless.

    For example, this spell was supposed to help a newborn calf who was failing. The explanation said it helped generate blood and strengthen bowels and sinews, but in reality, as far as Avitus could tell, it just infused the poor creature with a bit of mana to give it enough strength to get up and walk around on its own until it started feeling better. Why go through all the trouble, when you could just do like Socks did and shove a bit of mana in directly?

    So much of it was wrong, too, not just pointless. It made Dirt start to wonder just how much magic anyone had actually been able to perform. Some, surely. But they didn¡¯t have the benefit of being suffocated in a tree to learn to gather mana. They had to learn it the slow way, whatever that was, so perhaps there was too much room for error for anyone to be sure.

    Home patted him gently on the head and said, ¡°Dear Dirt, you must retire. We must sleep soon. If we do not send you to your bed now, we will be asleep and unable.¡±

    Dirt stood and stretched, exhausted and stiff. ¡°Sorry. I can¡¯t tell time in here. I hope you weren¡¯t too bored just watching me.¡±

    ¡°We do not get bored. If you are ready to return, then let us step outside,¡± said Home, taking his hand.

    Many of the remaining dryads, including Callius and Dawn, had already gone inert and fallen asleep. They stood perfectly still, lifeless, in a way that made Dirt glad he could tell they weren¡¯t really human. No sooner had Home led him out into the ferns than he was tossed through the roots again in nearly an instant.

    He landed just outside his villa, where a few other inert dryads had been waiting by the gate. He patted their shoulders as he walked past, even though they couldn¡¯t sense it, and stepped lightly through the garden. He walked through the villa in the dark, by feel, tracing his fingers on the wall. Slowly, to keep from running into anything he¡¯d forgotten about, but he encountered no difficulty.

    In his bedroom, his shins bumped against a bed they¡¯d placed here for him, just like the one he¡¯d slept on underneath Home. He plopped into it with a contented sigh and snuggled down to sleep. What a day it¡¯d been. First Father, then the schola, then the elementals, and all that reading. He was ready. Tomorrow, he¡¯d talk to the wind.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 7

    Dirt dreamed of Socks that night, but it was a weak enough dream that he wasn¡¯t sure if it was really him. The pup kept trying to speak with his mouth, but all his words were barks, causing severe frustration for both of them.

    The other dream of the night was a tree-dream, full of their thoughts and experiences, only the tiniest portion of which he understood. But when he woke, he could remember a little more of it than last time. Enough to recognize some of it as the eternally shifting world of magic, all its patterns and shapes. More than anything, it humbled him. He¡¯d never really expected to fully understand their world, but this gave him a lasting sense of inadequacy.

    Not that he was about to give up. It¡¯d just take a while. A very, very long while, with lots of practice he wasn¡¯t likely to get racing up and down the countryside with Socks. But it was something to work on.

    He rolled out of bed and stood up, stretching with a squeak that sounded out of place in the solemn silence. It was only barely beginning to lighten, just enough to find his way around. The early morning fog hadn¡¯t gotten down through the gaps in the roof and into the room. Mostly it floated above, outside, thick as ever. The air was cool¡ªcold, even¡ªand he felt it keenly after being used to waking up laying on a warm puppy.

    But it was his cold, in the middle of his forest, caused by his humidity dampening his skin and everything else. He might have spent more time outside the forest than in it by now, but he still thought of this place as home, and that made every part of it his.

    They¡¯d left his backpack leaning against a wall, unopened. His dark red sweat-soaked shirt was spread out on the floor next to it and didn¡¯t look very dry. He sauntered over to the backpack and squatted down, opening it to look for the magical primer. He had to move some spare clothing out of the way to find it, which reminded him that Home had threatened him with a bath at some point. Not that he minded getting clean, but if she was going to start acting like Marina¡­

    Dirt grinned and pulled off his pants. Might as well get properly filthy first, then. It¡¯d be nice to get a good coating of his dirt, since it might be a while before he got another chance. His bare legs immediately made him feel a lot colder than before, but he wouldn¡¯t give up that easily. He snapped his fingers to summon a light, then changed it into a hot ember to start warming up the nearby air.

    Then he took the magical primer and sat down against a wall, shivering at the cool stone. He almost laughed at himself. How weak was he starting to get? A few weeks wearing clothing most of the time, and here he was unable to handle a typical morning in his own villa.

    The second thing he noticed was how strange it felt to be sitting on the floor. It was hardly the same room anymore from down here. He really needed to make some chairs. Now that he thought about it, he wondered if he could get the dryads to bring some from Ogena with root travel. He had gold now, so he could buy them. Oh well. That was a concern for another time.

    He unrolled the scroll and skimmed through the important parts, increasingly unimpressed with what he read. But the diagrams were good, all drawn perfectly under an exacting hand. The enchantment preserving the scroll even kept the little pinprick of the compass at the center of all the circles.

    Dirt tried to look past each design to see the truth behind it, the reality hidden away in the magic world. He drew them one by one with his mana body, isolated and disconnected so they wouldn¡¯t do anything, and tried to watch if they resolved into a true image. Sometimes it worked, giving him a better glimpse into a world his mind was the wrong shape for. Mostly the simpler sigils, signs of modification or those dealing with simple elements, like the heat of his ember.

    The diagrams of several kinds of ¡®warm¡¯ and ¡®cold¡¯ sparked a memory and he jumped to his feet, eager to chase it before it faded. He had something for hot and cold already! He raced out of the room and down the hallway, risking breaking nose or toes in the near-perfect darkness where the dim light hadn¡¯t reached yet. It had been right there in the atrium, in the corner where he used to sit and read. How had he not seen it?

    Dirt switched his warming ember back to a light, since the atrium was black as night. The hovering light hopped and bobbled to follow him as he ran over to the corner, making his shadow jump wildly against the faded frescoes. He had to hold still for a moment so it¡¯d settle down before he found it. The dial! The only one like it anywhere. He gave a little cheer, despite how silly that was all by himself, and his voice echoed through the empty room.

    The dial was just as he remembered. Not quite as long as his hand, its leaf shape contained enough gold to make ten necklaces, with the point indicating which enchantment was selected. It had four settings, four complete enchantment circuits that would adjust the temperature in the entire villa at once. Such magic was shockingly expensive, since you had to keep someone on regular retainer to keep refueling it, usually hourly. Even if a rich citizen paid to have one drawn, they¡¯d only hire a wizard to give it mana for special occasions.

    But his was special. Avitus had been a genius among geniuses, or so he¡¯d fancied himself, long before meeting the wolves or trees. He¡¯d laid the enchantment himself, overseeing the engraving of each line in each stone throughout the whole villa to an unprecedented level of precision. A single charge of mana would heat or cool his villa for ten hours or more.

    That by itself would have been enough for his name to be spoken all across the Sunset Empire, but he¡¯d gone farther than that by overlaying all four enchantments in the same spot, to be selected with this very dial. The underside would complete only one enchantment at a time when turned.

    Dirt set it to ¡®mild warm¡¯ as gently as he could, holding his breath for fear it would snap off in his hand. It scraped a bit as it turned, but it turned. He touched the dial with a fingertip and pushed some mana into it.

    Nothing happened. Nothing even felt like it was trying to happen. He tried not to be too disappointed. After all, this was ancient and it wouldn¡¯t take much to ruin the spell. One stone out of place, one line disturbed by a crack, anything. No, this was just another thing to put on his growing list of projects. Maybe he could trace out the patterns and see how it worked, but it wouldn¡¯t be easy, since he¡¯d have to pull the stones apart to look between them. A project for another day.

    He took the scroll and stepped out into the fresh morning air, fog swirling around him. Droplets of water fell like rain from any disturbed ferns as he walked where his garden used to be. The little iron fences were gone, as were all the flowers he¡¯d planted in each space. And the tree in the middle of the intersecting pathways. It had been a small tree, some kind of fruit, with a little bench to sit on. Nothing of that remained either, but he sat on the smooth paving stones where the bench once rested and resumed reading the primer.

    All in all, it contained around fifteen basic spells and enchantments, and thirty-six different magic words to make them up. He rested his chin in his hands and set the primer aside, wondering what he could say with thirty-six words. They weren¡¯t even words in the usual sense. Certainly not ¡®hello.¡¯

    No, now that he thought about it, there had to be something more to how they talked. How could there be a magic word for hello in the first place? Hello wasn¡¯t an operation. It wasn¡¯t a function of the world that needed to be powered. It was just an idea. Well, ideas were a function of a mind, and the elementals and trees had those, so there must be more to it.

    How early had he woken up? He rolled the scroll closed and stood, shivering slightly from the chill. He walked down the stone pathway to the gate, where only dark smudges of rust remained of the hinges. The dryads outside were still sleeping, standing straight, staring at nothing. Empty dolls.

    If one of them had been Callius, Dirt might have been tempted to shape his dryad into something else, or remove the eyes or something, just as a prank. Just to see what he¡¯d do. But he wasn¡¯t as familiar with these ones and couldn¡¯t have picked them out of the crowd. The last thing he wanted to do was offend a tree.

    With nothing better to do until the dryads started waking up, Dirt wandered from building to building, checking the interiors and gardens to see what else had survived. Anything wooden was long gone, as was most of the metal, but that left plenty still to find. Statues and other carvings, for one, largely in excellent shape after being buried for so long and protected from the weather. No skeletons. If any of those had survived, the trees left them buried.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    One small home in a row of apartments had a bronze lockbox as tall as his knee, which the dryads had probably thought was furniture. The rusted-out hinges shattered when he opened it and the inside contained only a thick layer of rock-hard, black material. But if this chest hadn¡¯t been opened by the dryads, that meant there were probably plenty more out there that also hadn¡¯t been opened, and that piqued his curiosity so hard he was tempted to put off speaking to the elemental until tomorrow.

    Further searching was not to be, however, because the trees woke up and came looking for him. Four of them, all girls he didn¡¯t recognize, stood at the door of the apartment home and waited for him to come out. He pointedly ignored the fact that all four of them had short, rough tunics on.

    ¡°Good morning,¡± he said.

    ¡°Good morning, friend Dirt,¡± said one. Her voice was an inhuman, breathy groan that made him smile slightly. She still needed practice.

    They had nothing more to say, staring at him with pleasant but wooden expressions.

    He scratched his stomach and asked, ¡°How is the new tree doing? The one I planted by Ogena? Is she healthy?¡±

    ¡°She is well,¡± said the same dryad. ¡°They call her la Petita Mestressa.¡± The Little Mistress.

    ¡°I like it. Is she growing fast?¡±

    ¡°Compared to what?¡± asked the second dryad, her voice sounding a bit too deep.

    ¡°Good question. Never mind. I hope she¡¯s happy, at least.¡±

    ¡°We are all happy,¡± said a dryad.

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s true,¡± said Dirt. He hoped he wasn¡¯t too obvious about looking over their shoulders to see if anyone else was coming. So far, they weren¡¯t. ¡°So, are you nearby? Where are you?¡±

    Each of the dryads paused for a moment, then turned and pointed in different directions. As he suspected, they were the four closest trees, still several hundred paces away.

    ¡°Good. I need one of you to show me something. Do you mind making a space in your thoughts for me? Any of you is fine, if you¡¯re up for it. So here¡¯s what I¡¯m wondering. When you speak in the world of magic, how do you share an idea like ¡®hello¡¯? Do you have words of magic that represent other things, like my words do?¡±

    ¡°We do not say hello,¡± said the breathy-voiced one.

    The third dryad, who had yet to speak, silently extended her hand. He looked at it a moment and realized she wanted him to take it, so he did. She led him out of the apartment and into the street. The other three dryads went still for a moment, communicating with each other through their roots, then followed.

    ¡°What are we doing?¡± he asked, but she gave no reply. She made her face the perfect image of friendliness but didn¡¯t bother to keep it looking very alive. Her limbs moved like a human¡¯s, though, and her hand felt fleshy enough.

    They stopped in the center of the street, a well-preserved section that fit together handsomely. All it needed was a good rain to wash the black soil off, but that would never happen.

    The dryad stood in the pose that H¨¨ctor had when he¡¯d taught Dirt his very first dance. Side by side, arms extended. Dirt grinned and assumed the proper position as the other three dryads clapped a steady rhythm. Perfectly steady. Their three sets of hands sounded like one pair.

    She put an eager smile on her face and the dance began, starting out just how he remembered. She knew it better than he did, it turned out, even though he¡¯d had more chances to practice. Each foot landed in just the right place, one motion leading into another. Any time he was about to go astray, a gentle tug on his hand in this direction or that got him back on track.

    Then another dryad joined, holding his other hand, and the dance became a different one altogether, even though the steps were similar. The same dance, even, just modified to keep in a line and dance with more people. He learned it quickly and started humming a little tune to accompany them.

    The dance changed again when the two dryads joined hands to form a circle. Dirt stopped humming until he saw how it was going to go. They rotated instead of going side by side or back and forth, and once he could keep up, they added new steps to the mix, expanding the dance.

    ¡°Oh!¡± he said, stopping. ¡°I get it now! Okay. Yeah. That makes sense.¡±

    ¡°What have you understood?¡± asked the deep-voiced girl.

    ¡°How you talk. I think I could have figured this out from what I saw yesterday, but I really get it now. You don¡¯t talk. You play together, and that¡¯s how you express yourselves,¡± he said.

    All four of them giggled politely, and none of them got the sounds quite right. It sounded horrible, which made him chuckle as well. ¡°Close enough,¡± said the breathy one.

    ¡°I¡¯m ready to try again. Can you take me back up? Or should we wait for everyone else to wake up? Or, actually, are you going to make me climb up like yesterday?¡± said Dirt, walking off the street and into the ferns where the root travel could reach him.

    In answer, he found himself flung upward, a sensation becoming more familiar each time. When he was thrown out, there was no ground to hit and in the instant of disorientation he reached desperately for the nearest branch and missed it. But a hand grabbed his and pulled him back up. Callius.

    ¡°Good morning, Dirt. Good thing you came out close enough for me to catch,¡± he said.

    Dirt swallowed against the riotous pounding in his chest. It was a long, long way down. He couldn¡¯t even see the ground through the slowly-dispersing fog. He could probably survive that fall. Maybe. Except he might not hit soft ground. He might land on a road.

    ¡°Next time, put a net for me to land in,¡± he said.

    ¡°How do you know there isn¡¯t one down there already?¡± replied Callius.

    ¡°It should be up here.¡±

    ¡°But if it¡¯s down there, you¡¯ll have time to reflect on your mistakes before it catches you,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°I think I¡¯d have other things on my mind,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°We will not drop you,¡± said Home, emerging halfway from a leaf.

    Dawn joined her, a girl with a woman. They held hands. ¡°Not on purpose, anyway,¡± she said, eyes gleaming in the morning sunlight.

    And the sunlight was finally here, just breaking above the horizon. Rays of light ignited the dust and humidity where they pierced between the leaves, filling the landscape with lines of glory. Bright golden light, clear greens, and the flawless blue sky above. Maybe he should build a little space to visit up here. A platform to sit on, with a bed for warm afternoon naps.

    Socks would never see this, he realized with a bit of regret. The pup was simply too big for these light branches to support him. There was nowhere for him to stand even if he could get up here somehow. Dirt would have to share the image mentally, so he took care to experience it as fully as possible with all his senses.

    The air was calm but began to move with the rising sun. Gusts of air blew in, and soon after came the elementals, dancing among the tangled treetops as they travelled. They were long, he knew, if they could be said to have bodies at all. They stretched from here to there, from distant to even farther away. He sent them all a mental idea of greeting, warm and friendly, which they seemed to understand, if not reciprocate.

    Then an even, steady gust of wind bent the treetop several paces and calmed again to let it sway back into place. Over and over it repeated, until finally Dirt saw the great elemental¡¯s mind appear and grow to its previous size as she got closer and closer.

    A dance. A dance, he thought. He closed his eyes and said, ¡°Can you tell her she doesn¡¯t need to try and make a face unless she wants to? I see her just fine. I know where she is.¡±

    He didn¡¯t open his eyes again to look and see the result. Instead, he turned his eye inward and placed his thoughts as firmly in his mana body as he could. The sensation of air on his skin was impossible to ignore, but he let it happen, observing instead of resisting.

    Dirt spoke words of magic, partial ones, with no power behind them. Motion, motion from stillness into activity, motion continuing until complete. Wind, a word he knew well. Moving wind, rising into being.

    The great elemental responded and Dirt felt new words emerge, gathering around his to enliven and enhance it. Some he recognized, like sparks and light. Motion around shapes, drawing images in the directionless plane of magic. Ideas of physical shapes pressed themselves into his mana body not as themselves, but as the space created by the motion around them.

    Dirt nodded appreciatively. She knew what the physical world was. She lived in it far more fully than the trees did. Everything she touched, she perceived in a thousand ways. The sounds, the scents, all of it. Including him, standing here holding a thin branch with his eyes closed.

    He couldn¡¯t simply listen to her speak, though. The dance required two. Dirt struggled to watch the patterns, to feel and experience what she told him and strained to react with his own limited vocabulary.

    Dirt felt the air on his skin from her perspective even as he experienced it from his own. She drew it in magic, and he responded by sharing the word for ¡®calling into being¡¯. She colored that with the shape of cloth, which rotated around the whole as if trying to find a spot to integrate.

    Accompanying that magical concept, her mind had a question in it, curiosity. Just the emotion of it. No words, of course, but he could tell that much. ¡°Why are you naked?¡± she was asking.

    Dirt grinned and swung his free arm and leg, letting the rushing air wash over him. He ran his hand through his hair, feeling the wind tug that too. How should he answer? Motion, was all he could think. He sent her the mental feeling of freedom and she drew a new word, a complicated one that his mana body struggled to accept all at once. Release from restraint. That was it. Release from restraint.

    He drew the same word, sharing his happiness mentally. His excitement. It was possible! They could really talk! He could learn so much, and all he needed was practice. He drew freedom from restraint again and this time, decorated it with motion and the shape of wind as it moved around him.

    The elemental¡¯s mind flashed, nearly from one end to the other, in pure excitement. The wind suddenly increased, going from a steady gust to a strong gale that bent the treetop a dozen paces. The air pressed hard against his skin and his closed eyes. He had to breathe with his mouth nearly closed. Fear gripped and his mind raced to think how to tell her to slow down.

    But she did not. The wind grew yet again and all at once, it tore him from the tree top and flung him upward like a leaf in a thunderstorm.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 8

    Dirt screamed as he watched the trees shrink below him, flailing his arms and legs as he tried to grab hold of nothing. Nothing but air. The wind had to blow with tremendous power to move him at all, but once it got him moving, he moved.

    He panicked, watching as his worst nightmare came true. He was going to be thrown into whatever the sky was made of, falling upward forever. The ground below him would fade to nothing and it would be like the Void all over again, except this time he¡¯d starve to death and his body would never come back down.

    Dirt rolled to look at the forest instead of the sky, but he could still feel the sky lurking behind him, drawing him upward. Adding to that, he saw how far he was above the ground, with the trees now shrinking into a carpet of green below.

    The wind didn¡¯t carry him in any sort of smooth flight, either. It tossed him like a leaf, first one direction, then the next. It flipped and spun him before suddenly letting him drop a hundred paces, then blew him in a different direction. Each time it dropped him, Dirt was sure it was the last and he was about to fall.

    He couldn¡¯t focus in the slightest.

    ¡°Stop!¡± he shouted, screaming uselessly into the roaring wind. His arms and legs froze and refused to move. His heart beat so fast he could feel it in his neck.

    The wind rushed merrily along, playing with him like a child kicking a ball. It tossed him high again, straight upward, higher than thunderclouds or birds. At least it felt that high. It hadn¡¯t been summer-warm to begin with and it got colder very quickly, which surprised him. He thought it would be warmer all the way to the sun. It blew him even higher than that, then higher again, and faded into nothing, leaving him floating.

    Perhaps the trees kept themselves warm all year long, and now he was out of their influence where it was autumn again. Whatever the explanation, it was the coldest he¡¯d ever been and he wished he was dressed. With shoes, even. His toes stung.

    Strangely, other than the temperatures, being this high up was less scary. At least he had a moment to think. There was nothing for him to run into, so high up he could see the edge of the forest in two directions, and it helped him calm down enough to concentrate.

    Then the earth pulled him downward again, faster and faster. He did his best to ignore it.

    The elemental¡¯s mind no longer remained constantly nearby, choosing instead to race the great distances her wind covered, stopping only briefly to check on him. He saw himself in her perception, a tiny speck in a space otherwise unhindered by obstacle or restraint. She tried to speak with him periodically, but he couldn¡¯t respond.

    Dirt could guess what had happened. He¡¯d told her ¡®freedom from restraint¡¯ in a way that made her think this was what he wanted, and until he said otherwise she might just keep tossing him around. So now what? How many words for ¡®stop¡¯ could he remember?

    He closed his eyes, ignoring the physical panic it caused him, and tried to gauge what she intended. As before, her mind was vast and active. But despite all the treetops and other wind and layers of temperature and everything else she felt all the time, most of her perception was in the world of magic.

    ¡°Hello?¡± he shouted, and the word made only the tiniest ripple in her awareness. She paid it no attention.

    He didn¡¯t dare open his eyes yet, in case he panicked. The ground was getting closer, but he felt like he was floating now, no longer accelerating in his fall. He decided what magic words to try¡ªthey¡¯d been part of a spell to put out a fire. ¡®Diminishing,¡¯ and ¡®terminating at the completion of a process.¡¯

    Although¡­ now that he¡¯d had a moment to calm down, was it really so bad? It was almost fun. He opened his eyes to enjoy the scenery for a moment. The sky still looked far enough away that he wasn¡¯t about to fall in, if he was honest with himself, and the ground below looked smaller even than from a mountaintop. How many chances would he get to see something like this again? He stretched his arms and legs as far as they could go to slow his fall, and in response, another gust of wind lifted him upward again.

    A crosswind came and blew him closer to the edge of the forest, which made him more nervous. The trees couldn¡¯t catch him if he didn¡¯t fall where they were. But it opened up more of the landscape, and below he saw the vast grassland he¡¯d crossed early in the summer, and far beyond that, the deep, clear river. And there, the basin. It was a lot closer than he expected.

    There were other ruins down there besides the basin, but not many, and nothing he recognized. They might not even be visible from the ground, just patterns and shapes made from shadows in the grass.

    The far side of the forest was distant, even from up here, and Dirt was pretty sure Mother¡¯s den was in that direction. There was no telling how far away it was, but it took Socks the better part of a day running at top speed to get there.

    It had never really bothered him before, but now that he thought about it, shouldn¡¯t he have some sort of map to know where everything was? He¡¯d never cared to pay attention to distance or direction, since Socks was the one who decided everything as the owner of the feet that did all the running. But what if he wanted to explain to another human where the forest was, or how to find Ogena?

    The Duke had a map, but it looked nothing like this. It didn¡¯t look like the real world at all, just a few straight roads with little drawings showing you what you¡¯d walk past if you took them. Perhaps the schola had a map he could use. And maybe he should start paying attention to what direction Socks was running when they went from place to place.

    Dirt smiled, realizing how relaxed he was becoming. For now, he was safe, unless a hungry gryphon flew up here out of nowhere. Each time he fell far enough, the wind lifted him back up, high enough for it to get cold again. He let himself enjoy it, soaking up the sights. But after three more ascents and falls, he decided he wasn¡¯t safe after all; the cold was feeling serious. His fingers didn¡¯t want to bend as freely anymore, he could hardly feel his toes, and there was nothing fun about it anymore.

    Time to try and get down with all his bones intact. He wasn¡¯t over the forest now, but neither was he far enough from it to be concerning. It would be a short run. In fact, that might even be better, since he could stretch and let the sun warm him up. So how much would the grass cushion his fall?

    Dirt closed his eyes again and turned his focus to his mana body. The chill seeping into him, the wind rushing all over him and filling his ears with a roar, and everything else about the situation made the required concentration beyond difficult, but he had to hurry or he¡¯d get thrown back upward again and find out what ¡®frozen¡¯ meant before winter arrived. Needing to hurry, it turned out, didn¡¯t help either.

    No, he was being silly. Dirt forced everything else out of his mind by sheer exertion of will. He¡¯d kept his wits in front of the Mother and Father of Wolves. He was not a person who couldn¡¯t control himself.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Dirt watched for the elemental¡¯s mind and waited until she turned her attention to him again. Near the elevation where she¡¯d grabbed him the previous times, she returned and Dirt saw her operate her will in the world of magic, drawing complex sigils to manifest it into reality. It was as easy for her as flexing his toes.

    He sent her a mental image of gratitude, just the feeling of warmth and appreciation, to make sure he had her attention. When he did, he drew the signs as carefully as he could, ¡®diminishing,¡¯ which he organized in the proper form alongside the word for ¡®wind¡¯, and closing it with ¡®terminating at the completion of a process.¡¯

    Once he¡¯d drawn those, just to make sure she got the idea, he sent a mental image of himself as that little spot in the sky slowly descending. ¡®Diminishing,¡¯ he repeated.

    She drew another sign over his, a new one that tugged at his memory until he recognized it as ¡®slowly¡¯. Right. Avitus had known that one, too. He mirrored it back to her. ¡®Slowly.¡¯

    Then, in preparation for catastrophic failure, he filled himself with mana and reinforced his insides and outside as much as he could. He stared intently at the ground, ready to try and float right or left to avoid any rocks.

    He did not descend much farther, though. Instead, the wind carried him more slowly and didn¡¯t lift him up as high. She tugged him along with her in the direction she¡¯d been going anyway, no longer tossing him playfully about. Just enough force to keep him bobbing along in the sky.

    They crossed over the river and Dirt watched in increasing worry as the trees grew smaller and smaller in the distance. The further they got from the forest, the faster the wind was at ground level. It massaged the tall grass in massive swathes that rolled across the plains like ripples in yellow-brown fabric.

    Her mind stayed nearer him for now and she kept trying to speak to him in words of magic that he hardly understood. He could only barely feel them with his mana body in the first place, almost like tracing his fingers over etchings in stone to read. When he didn¡¯t reply, she¡¯d switch to something else, usually too fast for him to even grasp the entirety of the previous thing.

    This wasn¡¯t going to work. He needed way, way more practice with her first. So he tried something different. It had worked on the trees, after all. Dirt sent her a mental image of himself as she perceived him, a spot in the sky that the air passed over, the shape and feeling of his skin. Even the ripples and twirls that arose as it passed behind him.

    He drew the ground for her next, watching to see how her immense hands drifted over the grasses as she passed. He coupled it with the feelings of affection and relief, then watched anxiously to see if she understood.

    The wind decreased, so much that Dirt wasn¡¯t sure it was even still blowing; the air rushing from the fall made it hard to tell. That falling sensation that Dirt always felt in his chest whenever Socks jumped filled him now, pushing him back into terror as he plummeted.

    With very little time left, he glanced at the elemental¡¯s mind and saw that she had withdrawn and moved her attention elsewhere. Glancing at the grass below, he could tell a slow breeze still blew, just not as much as he hoped. Or needed.

    He stopped feeling the fall, further acceleration stopped by the regular air and soft breeze pushing gently back up at him. A scream escaped his lips, a short burst of sound that helped his ears pop like when Socks ran too fast down a mountain.

    Dirt must be under the height of the canopy now. Only seconds left. He was going far, far too fast to land safely, plummeting straight down so he couldn¡¯t even try and roll.

    In a last-ditch panicked effort he threw all his mana into calling a breeze like the dryads had taught him, and did his best to direct it upward at himself. He felt the mana leave him but the frenzy in his mind kept him from watching to see how well he¡¯d done.

    He slowed. The wind was pushing upward and slowing him down. Thank Grace, thank the gods! He hoped it was enough. He inhaled mana again the instant before he hit the ground.

    Dirt landed feet first but off-center and immediately crumpled. The collision knocked all the air out of him and for a straight count of fifteen he couldn¡¯t inhale at all. Enough time to regain his wits and gingerly try moving his fingers. They moved. Then his spasming diaphragm relented and he gasped deeply. A moment later, he relaxed into the ground like a puddle.

    Dry yellow grass as tall as he was waved above him, hiding most of the sky. He lived! He didn¡¯t smile yet, though. Not until he carefully sat up, making sure every bone was intact before he tried moving it. Arms, chest, legs.

    Dirt jumped to his feet and cheered, raising both fists into the air. He shouted and danced and turned in a circle as every last bit of fear dripped away and evaporated. He was still cold, his toes still numb and his hands still stiff. He was stiff everywhere. It was too cold up there, at least in the autumn.

    But it had been so fun! At least in retrospect, now that he knew he survived unharmed. It had been mostly terrifying before that. He sat down, suddenly thirsty, and sighed. He summoned four lights with a snap of his fingers, changed them all into embers, and curled up while they floated overhead, baking him like a lump of dough in an oven.

    He watched for the elemental¡¯s mind to return, but she never did. Far away, he spotted a few that might have been little ones, and wondered if they were her children. But they never came near. A gentle breeze slowly moved the grasses, waving their dry tufts back and forth. He felt the aftereffects of motion as he lay there, a phantom dizziness that rolled through him as his body imagined itself zipping this way and that.

    His body warmed up fairly quickly and fortunately his fingers and toes seemed fine, although his face felt a bit sunburned, along with several other spots down his sides where the cold wind had rushed past. Rising to his feet, he jumped high enough to see, trying to figure out where the forest was, and it wasn¡¯t hard to spot. It sure wasn¡¯t close, though. Farther than the basin had been.

    Dirt stretched, smiling to himself. Last time it had taken well over a day to get back. Not this time. Not after running with a wolf. He inhaled mana and fed it to his legs, then ran. The grass whipped his face, forcing him to run with one arm forward to push it aside, but he could switch arms.

    How long would it be until Socks was ready to come get him? A few days? Dirt ran faster and faster as he thought about all the things he needed to do. He needed to organize the scrolls better and read the important ones. He needed to make furniture for his villa and maybe change the opening so Socks could get in and lay down in the atrium. He needed to practice talking with the elementals, and he had a bunch of questions about that for the dryads.

    Such as, were there other kinds of elementals? Stone or water or fire or lightning? How many kinds were there? And how bad of an idea was it to try to talk to them? Air didn¡¯t seem that dangerous, but look what¡¯d happened to him.

    What else? He wanted to ask the dryads how they¡¯d made the cloth they were wearing. Callius said he¡¯d demonstrate it later.

    Speaking of clothing, he wished he had his right now. Pants, at least, because the grass whipped him as he ran. Finally he decided to slow down just a bit and use mana to protect his skin before he got a hundred welts for the dryads to fret about. That fixed it. He didn¡¯t need the pants after all.

    What else did he want to do? He needed to learn how he¡¯d broken the world. Something about surviving flying around in the sky higher than stormclouds made the prospect of uncovering his own ancient guilt a lot less intimidating.

    The dryads had mentioned once that there was a skin over everything in the world of Law, and that it had been damaged. Somewhere in all that preserved text should be some clue about what he¡¯d been up to, if not a full account. Prisca had known. Perhaps she¡¯d written some of it down.

    When he got to the river, he jumped right in and immediately regretted it. The water was frigid and it shocked his system so bad he feared he might drown. But his flailing arms dragged him to shore and his trembling lungs let themselves fill with air. He rolled onto the mud and stood in a hurry. It had been so cold he had a headache now, and he shivered despite the sunlight.

    That was not fair at all! Who knew water could change temperature like that? When he stopped shivering and rubbed his wet skin enough that he was sure it wouldn¡¯t freeze, he knelt on the bank and used his cupped hands to drink his fill, not daring to dunk his face like usual.

    He paused and scanned the area for minds, looking for anything unusual. This was a big river, so did it have its own elemental? He found plenty of mice, and a vast sea of grass minds. Some bugs nearby, close enough for him to find their tiny pinpricks of light. Some odd things that took him a moment to recognize as fish, swimming down there in the river. But no elementals. Nothing big or complicated. Not any goblins, either, thank Grace.

    Dirt stood and made a running leap across the river, strengthening his legs with mana. He almost didn¡¯t make it, since the mud slowed him down just a bit.

    No sooner had he landed on the far side and resumed running than he felt himself yanked with root travel, blind to the world for an instant until the bright autumn field was replaced by the somber greens and dim lighting of the forest floor. Twenty dryad faces crowded him, all anxious.

    ¡°Hi, everyone. I¡¯m fine,¡± he said.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 9

    They didn¡¯t let him get up right away, of course. Home knelt beside him and placed her hand on his chest. Tiny white threads emerged from it and penetrated his skin to examine his body from the inside.

    ¡°I promise I¡¯m fine,¡± said Dirt, but he didn¡¯t complain or resist. They¡¯d win if he tried, not that it bothered him anymore. ¡°I don¡¯t think she meant me any harm.¡±

    ¡°The intent is less concerning than the outcome, friend Dirt,¡± said Callius with a sly half-smile.

    A short wave of raindrops fell, only lasting the space of a single breath. One drop of water landed on his nose, making him blink. It dripped down into the corner of one eye and annoyed him terribly. It wasn¡¯t the last, either. After a few straggling drops, another wave came, filling the area with the rushing sound of rain for only the briefest moment. High above him, wisps of fog threaded through the branches and drifted between the tree trunks. Clouds? In here?

    ¡°You are not fine,¡± said Home, retracting the white threads from Dirt¡¯s chest and back into her hand. ¡°The cold has damaged your skin. The damage is worse on your toes and fingertips.¡±

    ¡°Is that all? Nothing worse?¡± He held up his hands and looked at them. His fingertips were a little redder than usual and they tingled a little, but they seemed fine.

    ¡°It will cause you pain,¡± said Home. She didn¡¯t seem to know quite which emotion to use and it left her face uncharacteristically blank.

    Dirt grinned. He might be freezing cold, but there was something warming in how upset they all were. ¡°I¡¯ve had worse. And if it¡¯s still bothering me in a few days, I¡¯ll have Socks lick me. He probably will anyway, now that I think about it.¡±

    Another raindrop landed in his eye, making him blink and squirm involuntarily. Home hastily withdrew the white threads, and doing it faster filled him with more of the tiny little snags and tugs than normal. He tried not to wince in discomfort.

    ¡°Okay, why is it raining?¡± He said, sitting up and finally wiping his face.

    An entire leaf appeared right above him, covering him like the awning of a market stall, except much larger. No fewer than eight dryads took hold of the tips and sides to hold it up.

    ¡°It¡¯s not rain,¡± said Callius. He held out his hand and Dirt¡¯s pants appeared in it. Then in his other hand a shirt appeared, the thicker red one. ¡°It will be cold for a while, and we¡¯re concerned about your ability to regulate your temperature.¡±

    ¡°What is it if it¡¯s not rain?¡± said Dirt. He took the clothing from Callius, but then he remembered he¡¯d just been laying on the bare soil. His back would be filthy.

    ¡°The wind got a little too excited and did a little too much blowing,¡± said Callius. ¡°It¡¯s the moisture in the air falling out. Do you want the long explanation, or the short one?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s start with the short one, and maybe the long one later, if I still want to hear it,¡± said Dirt. He lowered his arms, letting his clothing dangle. He¡¯d rather be cold than get it filthy on the inside.

    ¡°Okay,¡± said Callius. ¡°The wind blowing so hard up there moved around a bunch of air down here, and some cold air got in and ruined everything. Everything is ruined. I hope you¡¯re happy with yourself.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, not air!¡± said Dirt dramatically. ¡°What was I thinking?¡±

    ¡°Your punishment is to put those clothes on and warm back up before your body¡¯s functions are disturbed by a lower internal temperature,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°I have a better idea. And it involves hearing the long explanation,¡± said Dirt.

    Home now decided which look she wanted to put on. It was the one a woman in the kitchens had given him when she caught him and M¨¤xim stealing a couple spoonfuls of honey. ¡°Dirt, if you do not get dressed, then we will be forced to dress you for your own good.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t help but grin even as he shivered from the sparse raindrops dripping all the way down his body from his shoulders. ¡°My idea involves getting warm, I promise. Do you think you can seal my old bath so it can hold water? In my villa? I want to bathe before I get dressed.¡±

    ¡°The water will not be warm enough,¡± said Home.

    ¡°I¡¯ll warm it up with magic. At least I¡¯ll try,¡± said Dirt. He suppressed another shiver. Almost.

    ¡°Very well. But if our efforts and yours are not fast enough, I truly will force the clothing onto your body,¡± said Home.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get dressed before you have to, I promise. I don¡¯t want to freeze either. It¡¯s unpleasant. But a hot bath! I haven¡¯t had one of those in thousands of years,¡± said Dirt. And it was true. They¡¯d heated up water for bathing in the Duke¡¯s palace, but they washed by dipping a rag. Some of the ponds he and Socks had come across had been on the warmer side, but that wasn¡¯t the same.

    The dryads gave no warning and Dirt was dumped in the garden of his villa before he realized what was happening. Root travel. How come he never landed on his feet when they did that? Now his front was dirty, too.

    Dawn was the first to appear alongside him, with a faint popping sound that Dirt wondered if he imagined. She took his hand and lifted him to his feet.

    Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she dragged him into through the main entry and into the atrium. Once there, she stopped near the fountain in the middle and said, ¡°This?¡±

    ¡°No, come on, it¡¯s this way,¡± he said. Then it was his turn to drag her, not that she resisted. They went down the hall and into the hot bath room. It was one of the larger areas in the house and seemed all the more forlorn as a result. A flat walking area surrounded the bath, which itself was dug into the ground deep enough that only Dirt¡¯s head would be above water when it was filled. Dirt thought he remembered something about pipes and machinery, but it escaped him and he let it go for now. He had other ways to fill it up.

    Fortunately, the bath was big enough for Socks to fit in with room to spare, in case the pup ever wanted to. Not deep enough, of course; not even close. But plenty wide.

    Two of the decorative pillars had fallen and shattered, which was probably why a good portion of the ceiling had collapsed. Even though the dryads had removed the soil when they¡¯d excavated the house, the bottom of the bath was still full of broken stone and shards of concrete and roof tiles. The decorative arches along the walls and under the intact parts of the ceiling were still there, though, which made him think he should repair the room completely someday. It was a handsome place, not too ornate and not too boring.

    Dirt hadn¡¯t taken a close look at the baths before, just a glance as he walked past to remind himself what they were. He¡¯d seen the large cracks from the doorway, but up close, they didn¡¯t look quite so bad. Most were thinner than his finger; not too wide, but long, and they traced up and down the corners and around the edges.

    He and Dawn walked down the steps into the basin and started tossing the rocks and things out, clearing the bath¡¯s floor the best they could. Six more dryads came through the entryway and jumped in to help, including the two whose trees were the closest to the villa. That turned out to be exactly the right number to keep from getting in each other¡¯s way and the bath was cleared out with perfect efficiency.

    Callius and Home watched from the edge, but said nothing, not even when it was done. Dirt had expected one of them to take charge, but no one did. Instead, Dawn and the other six made their fingers narrower and began sticking them in all the cracks. Dirt stepped over for a closer look and watched them filling the gaps with a thick, sticky, dark-colored substance that had a peculiar odor he couldn¡¯t place.

    ¡°This is a temporary solution, dear Dirt, for we are operating with haste,¡± said Home. ¡°Would you like to dress until the bath is ready?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Do not feign sturdiness you do not possess, dear Dirt. I can see the temperature of your skin,¡± said Home.

    He was about to protest when one of the dryads brushed against him and made him shiver, which wasn¡¯t fair. She was as cold as the stones and damp with dew.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°I guess there¡¯s no reason not to do this now,¡± he said. Dirt snapped his fingers and summoned five little lights, all of which he turned into hot embers. He climbed out of the bath, since he was in the way, and made the embers slowly circle around him while he watched the cracks get filled in.

    Once the cracks were stuffed with the dark goo, the dryads came up the steps and stood alongside the bath. They extended their arms and all at once, water poured from their palms, even Callius and Home. Even though they made quite the waterfall, the bath didn¡¯t fill quickly.

    Dirt sent his embers down in the water to warm it up, which was harder than he expected. The water put pressure on them and did its best to snuff them out, which made him spend twice as much mana and five times as much concentration keeping them going. And making it worse, their absence made him feel twice as cold and he kept shivering.

    When the water was about knee deep, a mist of steam rose from the top and filled the room, mixing with the dew already leaking from the air and making it stuffy. Not much warmer, though. Maybe if the space had been air-tight, but the wall was missing a chunk and part of the ceiling was just a net of vines.

    At least the water wasn¡¯t as murky as he expected. All the sand and dirt stayed at the bottom instead of being stirred up too much. And by the time the bath was full, the room was plenty warm and every wall looked soaking wet and had water dripping down it from the dew. Dirt let his embers snuff out, which was a relief because they¡¯d been draining mana as fast as he could inhale it.

    He dipped his toe in and the water was too hot. It stung. He grimaced and looked at Home.

    ¡°It¡¯s not much warmer than your average internal temperature. It should not cause you any harm,¡± she said.

    Dirt grit his teeth and crept in slowly, hoping he wasn¡¯t about to turn into soup. How did Home know the temperature just from looking, after all? And what was her scale for ¡®not much warmer¡¯?

    She was right, though. It wasn¡¯t too hot. It stung a little at first, but then the feeling settled into a pleasant heat that soaked in deep. He made his way to a seat along the edge, which he could barely sit on if he lifted his chin out of the water.

    ¡°Well? Was it worth all that effort?¡± asked Callius.

    ¡°Absolutely! I¡¯m surprised humans don¡¯t do this everywhere, all the time. Are any of you coming in?¡±

    ¡°Just me,¡± said Dawn. The other dryads stopped moving and watched as she stepped to the edge of the stairs. She untied the bow at the top of her gray-tan tunic to let it fall from her shoulders and crumple to the ground. She stood motionless and Dirt saw her dryad becoming more and more realistic. And it was more than just putting skin on her whole body, which itself was unusual. It was a hundred tiny little things, like her ears looking less solid and the dew collecting on tiny fibers on her forearms like hair. The muscles above her knees flexed realistically when she took her first step into the water and the smile growing on her face looked like it came from deep inside her, not something she¡¯d practiced.

    Once immersed, Dawn waded slowly, just her head poking above the water, eyes full of wonder. She sat next to him and even her breathing was realistic.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he asked.

    Her eyes darted to meet his and he could watch her thinking by the micro-expressions on her face. Dirt found himself in awe, almost unable to believe this was still a dryad. He¡¯d been impressed when Callius made himself look human from head to toe, but this was something grander.

    ¡°You¡¯re focusing everything on your dryad, aren¡¯t you? Can you even talk right now?¡± he asked.

    Dawn regarded him with a quizzical expression. She traced a fingertip along his nose, then pinched some of his hair. After that she stood back up and waded around the bath, not seeming to have any destination in mind.

    Callius said, ¡°I am faster, but she is more accurate. Right now, she is mimicking human anatomy almost completely, including the function of nerves. Her whole mind is in there. She is cut off from us for a time.¡±

    Whether they were watching her through their roots or conversing among themselves, he couldn¡¯t tell. But no one moved, indicating the trees were focusing more on their true selves than their little puppets. Dirt got up and followed Dawn around the bath, just to make sure she didn¡¯t bump into anything and hurt herself, if that was possible.

    She ignored him, aside from periodic glances. Mostly she waved her arms through the water, or made kicking motions, or turned in circles.

    Until she suddenly froze. She lurched upward in the water and lay back, rigid, floating like a log. Most of the detail faded from her dryad, skin losing its lifelike suppleness and becoming more wooden. The dryads around the edge of the bath relaxed and life seeped back into them.

    It seemed strange to just leave her floating, so Dirt put his hand on Dawn¡¯s shoulder and pushed her toward the edge, where two girls leaned in and pulled her out. They stood her up and dropped the tunic back on her, even tying the bow.

    Dirt rested his arms on the edge of the bath and waited for her to wake back up. ¡°Hey, Callius, Home, everyone, why don¡¯t you all get in, too? You don¡¯t have to do it like Dawn did. Just get in.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t get in,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Because we are made of wood. We can¡¯t get in,¡± said Callius. ¡°We¡¯ll float.¡±

    ¡°How did Dawn get in?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± said Callius, ¡°and not worth doing twice.¡±

    After that, Dirt relaxed while Callius did his best to explain all about air. Apparently, some air was heavy and some was light, and some was warm and some was cold, and it all held different amounts of water. Dirt was familiar enough with humidity to get the basic idea, since it was so thick in the forest you could taste it after being away for a while. And he wasn¡¯t surprised to learn that the trees spent a lot of time and effort keeping the forest just how they liked it, balancing the water levels and temperature perfectly. Some of it was done with magic, but not all. Their leaves and bark did a lot of the work.

    When it got truly interesting, however, was when Callius explained how rain was made. Dirt had never wondered, to be honest, but he would never have guessed. It turned out that clouds were made of fog just like on the ground, and fog was a bunch of tiny, tiny little drops of water floating in the air. When the fog droplets bumped into each other and clumped up too much, they fell as rain. Sometimes it was because the air had to move up over an obstacle, like a giant forest, and sometimes it was because the wind slowed down, or a dozen other reasons.

    As the discussion progressed, Dirt summoned his embers again to reheat the water, since it was getting unpleasantly tepid. That got him thinking how much effort it would take to make it rain with magic, if he ever wanted some. He could make wind with magic, and if he got practice talking with the elementals, they could help.

    ¡°Hey, Callius,¡± interrupted Dirt, halfway through something about pressure zones and elevation. ¡°What¡¯s lightning made of? That¡¯s a part of storms, too. I remember that it¡¯s sparks, but I don¡¯t know what those are either.¡±

    The dryad paused, his happy chatter fading as his lecture was cut short. He went completely inert, in fact, as did several others, including Home. Dirt chuckled softly, wondering what they were talking about. Was it hard to explain, or did they just not want to say? It¡¯s not like he wanted to try and touch any. He just wanted to know what it was.

    When Callius started moving again he said, ¡°We will leave the full explanation for another time. The short version is that clouds traveling over the earth can cause a separation of power, and once it becomes too great, it recombines in the form of lightning. That causes it to settle. Another thing I¡¯ll say is that violent storms, with high winds and clouds that tower like mountains, often fill with lightning naturally.¡±

    ¡°Can you ever have lightning without clouds?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No. Do you know what hail is?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Callius resumed the lecture, explaining in great detail what updrafts were and how they were formed. He continued into how weather worked at a larger scale and how one could even predict a storm with enough information. That last bit was particularly useful to the trees, since whenever they saw one coming, they had to divert it or risk having it mess up their air.

    And just to make the point, periodically a wave of rain would fall, pattering on the roof except where the vines were, where it mostly fell straight through. The rain was cold enough it stung his face, but Dirt found it pleasant since the rest of him was warm.

    By the end of the discussion, Dirt was confident he¡¯d remember most of what he¡¯d been taught. It all fit together once you had the whole picture. Strangely, it seemed like new knowledge to him, not being retold something he¡¯d learned once before. And that made him wonder why Avitus hadn¡¯t known any of this. His people had been able to work all sorts of wonders, erecting grand buildings and sculptures and writing philosophy. So how was it even possible they never figured out how weather worked?

    Dirt finally dragged himself from the hot bath and stood on the edge, rubbing his body down with his hands to help dry off. The water steamed right off his skin and he was dry before he knew it, aside from his hair. Or as dry as he was going to get, anyway, in a room so thick with humidity he could cut it with his knife.

    He looked back into the water, pleased to see that it hadn¡¯t gotten too dirty from having him in it. The primer had a spell for purifying water, and he resolved to try that later.

    After he pulled his shirt over his head, he saw Dawn moving, finally having woken up. ¡°Welcome back,¡± he said with an amused smile. ¡°How was it?¡±

    Her voice was breathy, as if part of her was still dreaming. ¡°Strange. I hardly remember it. The others have been working with me to process all the information. But I felt¡­ I felt.¡± She waved her hands through the air like she¡¯d done in the water.

    ¡°I know what that¡¯s like. Sometimes I get caught up in your dreams and dream I¡¯m a tree. The only thing I remember afterward is how strange it is,¡± he said. He¡¯d tied the drawstring on his pants a little too loose, so he redid the knot. He even put his socks and shoes on, promising himself he¡¯d walk on stone as much as possible to keep them from turning black. ¡°Why did you do it?¡±

    ¡°Why should I have a reason?¡± she replied sweetly. ¡°I did it for its own sake.¡±

    Home handed him a big glob of sap, which he greedily ate, hardly chewing before he swallowed. The heated bath had kept him from noticing, but he found himself famished now. He¡¯d had a busier day than usual so far.

    Callius cupped his hands, filled them with clear water, and made Dirt drink a little more than he really wanted, but they insisted he¡¯d done a lot of sweating and needed his fluids.

    After that, Home said, ¡°Dear Dirt, I hope you will not mind if we let you read until twilight? We must spend our focus on balancing our environment before it gets much worse. Will you feel neglected if we do not play games?¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°Oh, no, that¡¯s fine. I have a lot of reading I want to do anyway. And I understand. Just don¡¯t forget and leave me in the library overnight.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± said Home. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. ¡°Do not think our affection diminished for our absence. Tomorrow, you will attempt to speak again to the wind, and we will help.¡±

    ¡°Perfect. I want to try again. She seems¡­ Well, I think I can figure it out.¡±

    ¡°Just try and tell her something else next time, won¡¯t you?¡± said Callius, slapping Dirt on the back.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 10

    Despite the nice long soak in the bath and sweating all his fear out, Dirt found it hard to focus on reading. He kept thinking about being tossed up into the sky and the blank terror of knowing the ground was rushing up at him but being unable to see it. And just to make sure he didn¡¯t forget for long, his fingertips were prickly and sore. Home was right about the cold damaging him. His toes, too, but they were easier to ignore since he wasn¡¯t doing much with those.

    The other thing making it hard to focus was how much of the material seemed familiar. He¡¯d roll to a new sigil or spell and nod to himself, recognizing it immediately. And he¡¯d remember ways it interacted with other sigils, but half of those he hadn¡¯t seen yet and couldn¡¯t remember.

    What worked best was pretending he didn¡¯t know any of it, and studying each new sigil like it was the first time. And if he did any imaginary combining to make a new spell, it was only with things he knew. That was a growing list, and he already had a good start. But then the problem was that so many of the descriptions seemed incomplete or simply wrong, and he had to keep rethinking everything.

    For example, the sigil for wood, which he was certain about. It was part of the word the dryads had taught him, and he¡¯d used it to shape wood plenty of times. In a text on alchemy, the author thought it meant the color green. In a different text, it was labelled as ¡®to make solid¡¯, and in another, ¡®gentleness¡¯.

    Avitus was sure that last spell would never work. He recognized the name of the author as someone he¡¯d always disrespected. With cause, it seemed. There were a lot of those¡ªspells he didn¡¯t think would work. Their effects were always too subtle to detect right away, like making a harvest more bountiful or increasing one¡¯s attractiveness to the opposite sex. A spell to light a lamp, well, that had to work right away or everyone would know. But one to redirect the attention of thieves? How would you measure its effectiveness?

    Hunger eventually got him to wander out of the library and look for a dryad, but not before he knew another twenty sigils, counting only the ones he trusted. He had ten more he made specific note of because although their descriptions were too often contradictory, they seemed important.

    Walking through it on his way outside, the schola felt dead as a tomb, even with his lights and embers bringing life to it. The smothering silence of the forest still got in and without any dryads watching everything he did, the whole place turned oppressively solitary.

    He was starting to miss Socks. It¡¯d only been a couple days but what was the right length of time to be away before you missed someone? The pup wouldn¡¯t be pleased to do this much sitting around and reading, but he probably would¡¯ve learned how to talk to the elemental right away.

    After all, Socks had a window into the world of magic that Dirt¡¯s body didn¡¯t. A faint, hazy glimpse, as if through a watery, mostly-closed eye, but a glimpse nonetheless. To Dirt, the magic world was much more obscured. It was like how he¡¯d first spoken to the trees by sending them the sensation he caused when he sat on their roots, along with hello. They couldn¡¯t fully conceptualize what was happening; just enough to know they were touching something. It was like that. And Dirt¡¯s brain wasn¡¯t nearly large enough to make himself a magic-world dryad to explore in, if he even knew where to start.

    So sigils and spells it was. Shapes and shadows and hints, like trying to communicate by watching someone scratching on the opposite side of paper you were holding. At least he didn¡¯t need all the little tools humans used. No wands or gems or chants. None of that.

    Home had left her dryad waiting in the schola¡¯s garden, sitting on a stone bench next to a grimy statue of a naked woman with one arm extended toward the sky. Her dryad was inert and her eyes didn¡¯t move when he stood in front of her.

    Still, worth a try, since he was hungry. ¡°Home?¡± he asked. ¡°Can you hear me?¡±

    She reacted, fortunately, but only animated her face, which Dirt found amusing. The poor trees must really be busy. He didn¡¯t feel like it was his fault, though.

    ¡°Can I have some sap?¡±

    Home held up one arm, which creaked like bending wood, and a large glob of sap appeared in her palm. Dirt took it and said, ¡°Thanks!¡± She left her arm up, and her eyes quit following him.

    He walked over to the little basin and drank some of the pure water that filled it to wash down the sap. When he stood, a chill wind blew across the ferns, filling the silent forest with its soft sound. Dirt stuck his hands in his pockets and huddled against the chill, glad he had clothes on. The ever-familiar rhythm of tree-magic shuddered in the stone beneath his feet, and after only four slow pulses, the wind stopped dead and the area fell silent again.

    Dirt peered through his mana vessel and caught only glimpses of the great and subtle working of magic all around him. Half-seen patterns of spells greater and more complicated than he could measure drifted past, lighting across his perception only faintly, like drifting cloth. He recognized portions, though. Wind and air and water and others, in spiraling geometric perfection.

    He glanced down again at the water in the basin. He knew how to shape wood, right? What would happen if he swapped out the sigils for wood and growth and replaced them with water? Keeping everything else the same.

    The word to shape wood couldn¡¯t make it fly, so Avitus decided to make the water stand up, like a little pillar. Maybe all of it, standing straight up like a long, thick pole. A backward waterfall.

    Avitus held his hands over the basin, made the image clear in his mind, and manifested the spell. The surface of the water rippled until a lump arose in the center. He fed it more and more mana, but it didn¡¯t help much. The water was too slippery and didn¡¯t want to stay put. He couldn¡¯t shape it in sections, he learned. He had to do it all at once.

    But it helped if he shaped some sections more strongly, like the outside. Then it¡¯d hold the inside water in place. And rather than lifting the water into shape, he had to push other water down, and then it¡¯d rise where he wanted.

    He adjusted the spell the more he used it, shaving off useless parts. The water couldn¡¯t grow, at least not using this method, so the parts of the spell related to growth and destruction had to go. And there was no communication like with a living plant, so a large chunk of the spell fell away with no effect. He still knew none of the sigils in that part, which was a shame, since they might actually help when talking with elementals.

    He added other things to it, one of which he¡¯d learned from the elemental: continual application of force. But after a few more tries, he removed it again. Feeding it a steady flow of mana had the same effect.

    No, less was better. He removed more of the spell. Anything he could think of that wasn¡¯t active or that wouldn¡¯t work on water had to go. More than once the water rejected his magic and collapsed, sloshing back into the basin. But he kept working at it, adjusting the spell¡¯s shape and the sigils that comprised it.

    He reduced it to only five complete sigils, arranged around a balanced circle. Perfect in its simplicity, but pushing most of the work onto him and requiring serious concentration. It felt like he was trying to dream out loud, with how strongly he had to picture what he wanted to happen.

    But it worked. He could play with the water however he wanted. Avitus poked a finger into the basin and drew out a thread of liquid that stuck to his fingertip as he twisted it in the air. After that he scooped out a ball with both hands and held it balanced in place, watching its surface quiver and ripple. He pulled the ball between his fingertips and it stretched like gut.

    This was as close as he¡¯d ever get to moving things with his mind. If only Socks were here! He¡¯d¡­

    The water splashed back into the basin as he froze, eyes wide. He¡¯d seen Socks move things with his mind a million times but he¡¯d never been able to do it himself, and neither of them could figure out why.

    It was so simple. So obvious. So impossible, before this exact moment. He didn¡¯t need the spell at all! The sigils were for complicated things, like processes and procedures and spells. But he didn¡¯t need them for something so simple. The power was already there. He just had to remove the filter and enact his will directly.

    Avitus¡¯ fingers trembled as he held them over the water again. He balanced on an edge sharper than his knife. If he tried and failed now, he might never do it again. But if he succeeded¡­ if he succeeded!

    Move, he commanded the water with a thought. The mana inside him didn¡¯t move. Neither did the water. He swallowed the panic that followed, that maybe he¡¯d ruined it. Maybe his failure had introduced doubt and it¡¯d never work.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    He cast those ideas away and hardened his mind. Discipline and sincerity, he remembered. That was his true power, and he needed great quantities of each for this. He¡¯d been too hasty. Next time.

    Avitus pushed away everything that wasn¡¯t part of the task at hand. He mastered every inch of himself, quieting even the constant stream of imagery in the deep recesses of thinking.

    He tried again. Move. He strained his will, exerting it as hard as he could. The water stayed still.

    They¡¯d melded their consciousness, he and Socks, countless times. He¡¯d watched the pup move things with his mind, always with such effortlessness that neither of them could even find a mechanism for Dirt to exercise in hopes of learning. Socks had just done it.

    Avitus had everything in place already. He knew his mana body and was familiar with it and how it worked. He knew his own mind, how to focus his will. And he had run his fingertips across the immeasurable world of power that lay just beyond perceiving. He need only turn his will, and the power would obey.

    He tried again. Move. Nothing. But he got closer. It had to come from deeper. From a place of truth, and not one of belief where doubt also resided.

    Avitus drifted his hand to the side, slowly passing it over the water. This was it. He held perfectly still. The world would either obey, or it would not.

    He drew his hand upward and willed the water to follow. Not with a word, or even imagination, but with will from a place deeper than words could reach.

    The water shivered, barely, briefly, and went still again. Avitus cast away any excitement that might distract him. The task was all that existed. He looked intently at the water and made it move.

    The water rippled more deeply. It followed as he moved his hand around the basin in a circle until waves formed, sloshing over the edges. He scooped up a handful with his mind, letting it form naturally into a sphere. Then he brought it to his lips and drank it right out of the air.

    All the world returned as his mental discipline fell apart. The endless green above and below, the silence other than dripping water. The feeling of his own clothing on his skin. Tingling pain in his toes. He jumped up and cheered as loud as he could, mind wild with joy.

    ¡°SOCKS, I CAN MOVE THINGS WITH MY MIND!¡± he screamed mentally. Countless tiny minds around him reacted, first in surprise, then confusion, then forgetting him entirely. Except the trees, who had to stop what they were doing for a moment to figure out what he¡¯d said.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he sent the nearest ones. ¡°Ignore that.¡±

    They obliged without any reply, resuming their calculations. Any other time, it might be fascinating to watch them all working together so furiously, but Dirt had other things to do. Avitus had never done this. He was sure of that. No one had. Maybe no human ever.

    It was so quiet, so solitary, that Dirt¡¯s exultation was almost ruined by disappointment. There was no one to show, no one to tell. Just the empty forest, full of trees too busy to pay any attention to the mighty thing he¡¯d just done.

    Although¡­ that meant it would be a surprise. Socks hadn¡¯t replied, so he was probably too far away to be watching. Dirt would wait until they were back together again and say nothing. He¡¯d move things casually and see how long it took Socks to notice. That would have to do.

    He pulled out his knife and lifted it from his palm with his mind, then made it slowly circle around him. First while he stood still, then as he walked slowly, practicing. The hardest part was not thinking about what he was doing, but simply doing it. If he thought about it too much, the dagger got slippery and fell to the ground.

    Dirt tried lifting a cylindrical pillar stone, but it was way too large for him. The mere attempt put enough pressure on him that he almost fell to his knees. Since there weren¡¯t any little rocks to practice with, he ran to the schola to look for things to practice with. He lifted the lid of a chest with his mind, curious at the feeling of weight it put on his knees.

    But the lid slammed shut and Dirt realized he needed to take a break for a moment. It was getting harder to grab things and a feeling of deep tiredness was creeping into his brain. This had been quite a day already. He¡¯d spent the morning sure he was about to die. Why push it?

    Well, because, what else was he going to do? He¡¯d done enough reading for the day, and the trees were busy, so what else was there?

    Dirt poked around among the piles and boxes and chests, all the pots and baskets of gold and silver and whatever else had been preserved. He avoided the ones with little figurines, though, not wanting to be distracted by suffering gods. He used his shirt sleeve to wipe the front of a silver plater and looked at the decoration around the edge. It showed a hunting scene, he guessed, with several dogs chasing a deer. And a person¡¯s head, for some reason, with mid-length hair that could be a man or woman.

    There was a lot of that, it turned out. Just about anything fine enough to be made of silver or gold was worth decorating. That was fun for a while; looking at all the people and animals and trees. Scenes of battle or street life, bathing and eating, cattle and sheep and fearsome monsters. All of those, he knew the names of, which surprised him. No goblins or gryphons, no lumbering tentacle monsters sliding out of pools. But there were fauns and satyrs dancing in meadows, upside-down striges, centaurs with spears and bows, several kinds of gorgons tormenting and frightening men.

    Dirt almost walked back out to find Home and ask her if she knew of any fauns or satyrs. Were those real? He and Socks had seen a lot of forests and never found any.

    They¡¯d seen some large birds that could perhaps have been striges, but probably not. What else did they feed on, other than human babies? And actually, he remembered something about witches being involved, so maybe they weren¡¯t proper monsters in the first place. Maybe one of the scrolls would clarify.

    ¡®Witches¡¯ was a word that had never entered his head before, but now that it did, Avitus could only think of it with disdain. Sorcery, not proper magic. Beastly frauds with a few tricks. Market charlatans and scammers. Unwashed women in ragged robes who promised to rid a woman of her pregnancy for a price, or skinny men rattling bones at passers-by, threatening them with dire fates if they didn¡¯t appease the dark powers. For only a few coins, so why take the risk?

    The more he thought about it, the more indignant it made him. Wives of rich politicians scrawling curses on lead plates, thinking they were causing their husband¡¯s success. A hundred other such things. Sorcery.

    Dirt laughed softly at himself, finding it silly how upset he was getting. He must have really hated them, if there was a separate word for the magic they did. If they did any at all. No, even that old anger was a kind of nostalgia. And if the idea still bothered him this much after so long, that was rather funny. Avitus was so proud of his mental discipline and maturity, and here he was losing his composure over street chanters. Dirt¡¯s grin stayed on his face for quite a while after.

    He found a die carved from ivory, now yellow-brown with age, which might be the smallest thing the dryads had bothered to dig up. M¨¤xim had a few that he kept safely hidden. He¡¯d told Dirt that he wasn¡¯t supposed to know about them and if the Duke found out, he¡¯d surely get in trouble. They were used for gambling, and M¨¤xim had learned about it by watching soldiers who hadn¡¯t noticed he was around.

    Dirt shook the die in his hand and rolled it on the stone floor. Four. He lifted it with his mind, rotated it, and set it down showing six instead. Now there was an idea! He spent the next little while practicing throwing the die and making it land on the number he wanted. All it took was a little nudge with his mind, but the hard part was doing it too subtly to notice.

    He practiced, then read some more, then picked through the gold again and looked at the images. After a while, Home fetched him, moving stiffly and saying little. She gave him a bit more sap, encouraged him to drink a little water, and then sent him back to his villa.

    It was empty, no dryads standing in the garden or at the gate. Not even inert ones. Dirt watched the minds of the nearby trees for a moment, their minds still fully engrossed in their task. He was reminded again just how immense their thoughts were, and wondered why it was so complicated just to smooth out the weather. Who knew what else they might be up to, though. He could ask them tomorrow, if they weren¡¯t still at it. Or the day after.

    As soon as Dirt lay in his bed of soft fibers and closed his eyes, he knew he was going to have nightmares. Just laying in the dark with his eyes closed reminded him of flying, and he could almost feel his body in motion from it. The fibers folded themselves around him almost like the air did.

    But he was being silly. He was tired. Dirt calmed his mind as well as he could and drifted off to sleep.

    The night was indeed fitful and he had three separate falling dreams, waking right when he hit the ground. The first time, he was with Socks walking alongside a cliff. The second time he was climbing up the stairs along a tree and slipped and fell. The third time, the wind caught him again.

    Each time he woke he was sure he felt the impact, and as he calmed his racing heart, he wondered if he¡¯d been hovering above his bed and then dropped into it. That didn¡¯t seem likely, though.

    The fourth dream, he was fully conscious. He knew he was dreaming but didn¡¯t wake up. He stood upon hard, bare soil, with nothing but a blackness devoid of stars in every direction. He tried to dream of something else instead, but the dream resisted. He tried to wake up and couldn¡¯t do that either.

    Dirt scowled at nobody. He was going to be tired and grumpy all day tomorrow, if this was how badly he was sleeping. He couldn¡¯t even dream properly!

    Eyes opened in the distance, glowing red and yellow like midnight fire. The shape was familiar, and he said, ¡°Father? Mother? Is that one of you?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t Father or Mother, though. It was no wolf he recognized. Or even a wolf at all, perhaps, because it was inferno-filled eyes and bared fangs floating in blackness with no other features visible. No outline of black fur, no scars, no claws. If it had a body, it would have been mostly in the ground. The monstrous face glided silently toward him, eyes focused and never wavering.

    It came closer and Dirt turned to flee as dread ignited into terror. The inferno in its eyes cast shadows in front of him as he went, which grew more distinct as he ran. It was catching up. It was getting closer.

    Suddenly he was facing it again, unable to move. He felt hard dirt like a road under his toes but his legs would not obey him. He looked up at the eyes, filling the black sky, and the slavering fangs whose saliva sizzled and hissed when it hit the ground.

    It spoke to him without words, instead using the images and scents of the thoughts of wolves. -You have my son¡¯s scent upon you,- it said, and Dirt recognized Father¡¯s scent in the bundle of ideas.

    -You have encountered my grandchildren.- That included Socks and the other living pups. Dirt knew all their scents, and each was named.

    The eyes and fangs drifted slowly backward, but never turned their focus from Dirt. He caught a glimpse of its hunger, its need. It had his scent now, Dirt knew, and would follow him. He was prey, but not the meal himself.

    The dream erupted violently in a flash of chaotic light and fell apart. Dirt saw countless trees in their dream-shapes building a tree dream around him in its place and the eyes vanished, and the teeth. And the scent, and the memory, and Dirt dreamed he was one of them until morning.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 11

    Dirt woke with a pervading sense of being hunted and only slowly came into wakefulness. For a time, he lay perfectly still, sure that something in the room would hear him and pounce if he wasn¡¯t careful. When he finally came to, the fog was already brightening with the day, but he almost rolled over and went back to sleep in protest.

    Until he remembered the dream about the wolf. It was the worst of a night full of nightmares and he could recall every detail as if he¡¯d been awake for it.

    He quickly realized what it was. The Devourer. It had to have been the Devourer, and now Mother was going to kill him. She¡¯d do it instantly, from wherever she was, the moment she realized. Dirt wouldn¡¯t even see it coming. He¡¯d just be alive one moment and dead the next.

    You¡¯d think I¡¯d be used to this, he thought to himself, putting on a half-smile in the empty room with no mirth behind it. It was a feeble attempt to smooth over his panic. I¡¯m always about to die.

    Dirt rolled out of bed and stood, but too much fear made it feel like he was swimming. Lingering terror from the nightmares and fresh dread of Mother. He straightened out his shirt and fidgeted with a smooth rock from his pocket for a moment, hoping he wasn¡¯t going to throw up from worry. He felt sick and it wasn¡¯t going to go away. He was going to be like this all morning, maybe all day, if he lived that long. The dryads would notice right away and ask him, and he wouldn¡¯t be able to say anything because Mother would hear it.

    He¡¯d probably live until he returned to Socks and the pup saw it in his mind. A few days, maybe? Could he escape? Maybe he could make himself forget, permanently. And then when it happened again, it¡¯d be right back to this. Maybe he¡¯d already tried that once, and this was the result.

    No, he thought with a coldly rational kind of despair, it wasn¡¯t worth it. There was no escape from Mother. Never. Best to get it over with now, before the trees learned what had killed him. They would remember him, but they wouldn¡¯t be very sad about it. They weren¡¯t capable.

    And if there was one thing he trusted, it was that Mother and Father would do the best for their cubs. They were never wrong, so maybe it was for the best. And maybe he deserved it for breaking the world and all those twisted, suffering gods could finally rest. He thought those things to try and gather courage, but couldn¡¯t completely make himself believe them. He wanted to live.

    ¡°Mother of Wolves,¡± he whispered, voice scratchy and quavering, before he¡¯d even fully committed himself in his heart. ¡°Can you hear me? I¡­¡±

    The words got stuck in his throat. He couldn¡¯t speak. What kind of fool asks to be killed? What was he thinking?

    WHAT DO YOU WANT, HUMAN? ANSWER QUICKLY.

    Her voice filled his head, feeling like it was squeezing his brain. This was how she¡¯d kill him. She¡¯d squeeze it out his ears.

    ¡°I¡­¡± he started, but still couldn¡¯t speak. He cleared his throat, but that just made it dry and he coughed. Then he had no voice at all, so he whispered, ¡°I dreamed of the Devourer. I know what he is now. He¡¯s Father¡¯s father. Please don¡¯t kill me.¡±

    I SAID I WOULD KILL YOU WHEN YOU LEARNED WHY I EAT MY CUBS. HAVE YOU LEARNED?

    ¡°No,¡± he said, and remembered. That¡¯s what she¡¯d said. Not just what the Devourer was¡ªwhy. Why, was the important thing. He didn¡¯t know why. Relief pushed out the dread in the form of cold sweat.

    THEN WHY DO YOU PESTER ME?

    ¡°I know I can¡¯t escape you. You¡¯re keeping an eye on me even though Socks isn¡¯t around, or you wouldn¡¯t have answered,¡± he said, the words coming easier now that he was still alive. Gods in glory, he was still alive. ¡°The trees gave a me clue that it was related to the Devourer and they wouldn¡¯t tell me what he was, so I thought if I ever found out¡ª"

    THE DEVOURER IS MY MATE¡¯S SIRE. HE IS LONG DEAD, BUT NOT GONE. HE HUNTS HIS DESCENDENTS. I EAT MY CUBS BEFORE HE GETS THEM. THE ADULTS ARE TOO STRONG FOR HIM.

    Dirt nodded. That was reasonable. Now that Mother said it, several things fell quickly into place, all things he would have realized before mid-morning. That was why they were so concerned about being as strong as possible. If they weren¡¯t, they¡¯d be prey. They were prey anyway, actually, until they grew up.

    HE EATS THEM TO TRY TO RETURN TO LIFE. HE MUST BE PREVENTED. YOU WOULD HAVE FIGURED THIS OUT.

    The fear that had slipped away when Mother didn¡¯t annihilate him where he stood started coming back. Why was she explaining? Was she going to¡ª

    THERE IS ONE MISSING ELEMENT, AND THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO KNOW. PERHAPS SOMEDAY, IF YOU EARN MY TRUST BY YOUR MERIT, YOU MAY LEARN. BUT IF YOU DO, YOU WILL NOT VIEW SOCKS THE SAME WAY. YOUR RELATIONSHIP MAY CHANGE FOR THE WORSE, AND I MIGHT CHANGE MY MIND AND KILL YOU ANYWAY. NOW GO THINK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE.

    Dirt didn¡¯t bother to thank her since she didn¡¯t want his gratitude. Just his compliance, which he was eager to offer. He raced out of his room, down the hall, and into the atrium, where he hunched over and tried not to throw up. He was still alive! Dirt had faced death too many times before, but never like this. He¡¯d been afraid he¡¯d starve, or bleed out, or suffocate, or get eaten. But never just that he would die. Never death itself, and it wasn¡¯t the same. He leaned against the wall to keep his balance until it returned, then sat on the edge of the fountain for a moment to rest and recover.

    It passed soon enough, as it always did. He was safe and alive, and before long his courage returned.

    Actually, Mother hadn¡¯t said, but was he in danger from the Devourer now? Or¡ªand this seemed more likely¡ªwas Socks in greater danger of being found now that the Devourer knew to watch Dirt as well?

    There were signs when the Devourer was getting close, like unnatural storms. He and Socks would be fine. Dirt would just make sure Socks didn¡¯t waste time before running away. So why would ¡®devouring¡¯ the pups help bring a dead wolf back to life? What did they have that¡ª

    Dirt shook his head and forced himself to stop following that line of reasoning. Best not to figure it out. He knew what was going on now, and that would have to be enough.

    He knew of a task that would distract him. He stopped back in his room and grabbed the magical primer, then turned around and headed for the hot bath.

    The bath water was still and dark, the air heavy and colder than elsewhere in the villa. That seemed inappropriate for a room like this one, where people were supposed to gather and relax. Maybe someday he could bring Ignasi and H¨¨ctor and the Duke, along with M¨¤xim and any other people who were curious. The bath would probably seat twenty, if not more. And now that he thought about it, did men and women bathe together? He couldn¡¯t picture it. At least not with a crowd. Maybe just a few. Perhaps only families did that.

    Dirt snapped his fingers to summon a light and sent it down into the water so he could see. Then he reached down with his mind and pulled out a chunk of roof tile, which he set aside. Then a few more, one by one, feeling the curious tug of water resistance as he drew them out. Then the stray pieces of sharp concrete that used to be wall, and anything else big enough to see and grab.

    Once that was done, he read through the primer until he found the water purification spell. Looking over it, it turned out he didn¡¯t need the primer anymore, since he remembered all the parts. The tricky one would be ¡®exclude¡¯, which had to be joined to several other things to push everything that wasn¡¯t water, out of the water. Still, nothing serious.

    What he wanted to try was doing the whole spell without any of the drawings, or the chalk and wand and candles or gem, and still direct it at the correct water. Those things were just to help the wizard¡¯s mind, more than having any real effect. Although Avitus might not have known that. Or anyone else. They thought putting pure chalk in the middle of the ¡®exclude¡¯ sigil told the spell to act on elemental earth. At least that¡¯s what the primer said. Dirt knew better.

    He focused and the whole spell came to his mind, long-forgotten training making itself useful again, coupled with recent practice. He pressed it onto his mana vessel, manifesting it into the world of magic. Once everything was ready, he squatted down and dipped his finger into the water, in place of the wand he was supposed to use. He filled the spell with mana and directed the effect into the bath.

    The spell worked perfectly, which pleased him. It hadn¡¯t been hard at all! Maybe he shouldn¡¯t have been surprised after doing the spell that made all the grain grow.

    The grime and dirt and rotting fern leaves and everything else floated to the top and gathered into a dark, repulsive, brownish-gray foam. Larger bits, like pebbles and sand, leaped out of the water like it was spitting them. If they landed back in the bath, they bounced along the surface until they stuck to the foam. Dirt kept mana channeling through it until no more bubbles rose from the bottom and the water quit reacting.

    He scooped the filth from the top of the water with his mind and tossed it out through the gaps in the roof. His little light swimming through the water showed it to be clean and pure. Even the grime stuck to the bottom surface was gone now, leaving it bright as fresh marble.

    Dirt rolled the scroll up, quite pleased with himself. Then an idea struck him and he left the villa at a run. He went a few houses up the street and entered the empty gateway, and sure enough, a dingy statue stood in the garden. It depicted a hunter with a drawn bow, muscles in his back and legs as taut as the long-vanished string. Even the bow was gone, probably rusted into nothing, but the marble was in good condition.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    He made a minor adjustment to the water purification spell, replacing the sigil for ¡®water¡¯ with ¡®stone¡¯. From there, he improvised adding modifications he hoped would clear the surface, not the interior. Naturally, it wouldn¡¯t do to try this on his statues first. It might make them explode, for all he knew.

    The spell worked exactly like he imagined it, although the mana had trouble flowing properly at first until he made some adjustments. But a single tap was all it took to get every last bit of dirt to flake off and fall to the ground. Very little mana, in fact. The statue¡¯s surface was flawless now, clear and bright as the day it was carved. All he needed was someone to paint it, and¡ª

    Dirt paused and stepped back. They used to paint these, didn¡¯t they? He had to pick through Prisca¡¯s memories, but it didn¡¯t take long to find the answer. They were indeed painted. Even the carvings on buildings. Everything was painted, colorful and vibrant.

    Peering around with fresh eyes, the remains of the city looked even more barren than before. The stately buildings and fine stonework, straight roads and charming symmetry, all the pale gray cement and faded frescoes, it all just looked like bones now. A grave of a place, with all the flesh rotted away, like a tomb.

    Well, that¡¯s what it was. Maybe someday people would live here again and he could get them to start painting things. But for now, Dirt rather liked the unobtrusiveness of the bone-white buildings everywhere. Color would be out of place here. And it wouldn¡¯t look right without any sunlight anyway.

    Dirt felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped about ten feet in the air, since he still had leftover mana in him. He was laughing before he landed, though, and so was Callius, as naturally as ever.

    ¡°Are you alright, friend Dirt? Not nervous about anything?¡± asked the dryad.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine. Can I have some sap? And then, do you have any tips on what I should say to the elemental? What do you and she talk about?¡± said Dirt, checking behind him for Dawn sneaking up to get him again, since it was something she¡¯d do.

    Callius held his hand out and a healthy glob of sap appeared, which Dirt took and ate a bit more quickly than was probably good for him, but he couldn¡¯t help himself. He needed to eat. ¡°Tell me, friend Dirt, did you have any strange dreams last night?¡±

    Dirt stopped chewing, then chewed faster and swallowed so he could speak. ¡°Oh, you know about that?¡±

    ¡°Tell me what you dreamed of,¡± said Callius, his voice a bit more urgent than usual, despite his impish, easy demeanor.

    ¡°I was visited by the Devourer, so I know what he is now. He said he had my scent. I already spoke to Mother about it, and she said she wasn¡¯t going to kill me because that wasn¡¯t the secret.¡±

    Callius scowled, perhaps the first time Dirt had ever seen him make that face. Or any of them, for that matter. He looked upset.

    ¡°Why do you ask?¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Because we normally keep things like him out, but in our haste to regulate the environment, our defenses were lax. We didn¡¯t realize until we sensed your distress in the dream,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m fine now, so thanks for rescuing me once you realized. It was not a pleasant dream to have,¡± said Dirt. Then he took another big bite of sap. Was he hungry, or something else? The latter. It was too early to be very hungry. It was delicious, though.

    ¡°Did the Mother of Wolves say anything else to you?¡±

    ¡°She said that the Devourer wants to eat the pups so he can come back to life, but there¡¯s a secret about that, and that¡¯s what I can¡¯t ever find out. So if you know, don¡¯t tell me,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°We know,¡± said Callius. ¡°And we will not tell you. We judge that the Mother of Wolves was correct, and it is a secret best left kept for now.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m doing my best not to think about it. Other than, I hope someday I can get rid of the Devourer somehow, like I chased off those ghosts in Llovella. So how¡¯s the weather fixing going? Do you have it back under control? Everything seems normal now,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°We¡¯re getting close. It would not do to allow a disruption so close to winter. A freeze would be destructive here. But do not fret over that, little Dirt. There is nothing you can do to help.¡±

    ¡°What do you do in the winter, anyway? Do you use magic to generate heat to stay warm?¡±

    ¡°I think that would be a more complicated answer than you are expecting,¡± said Callius. ¡°We can spend all morning on it if you wish.¡±

    Dirt did not wish. ¡°Where is everyone else, by the way? Still working?¡±

    ¡°Still working.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Can you take me back up to talk to the elemental again?¡±

    ¡°Yes. We have spoken with her in the meantime, and she regrets the distress she caused you. Sort of. Her relation to emotion is different from ours, and yours. But she will not lift you up again unless you ask very clearly,¡± said Callius. ¡°We told her you will do more listening than speaking, so pay attention.¡±

    He reached forward to take Dirt¡¯s hand and pull him with root travel, but Dirt caught his wrist first. ¡°One quick question. Is she just like you, happy all the time?¡±

    Callius tilted his head, sort of like Socks did when he was curious about something. ¡°Not exactly. We do not understand loss or pain, since we have no natural faculty to experience those things. But she understands them and is not affected. She remembers everything she touches. Any time a word is spoken in her wind, any time her breeze passes over a hunter and his prey, everything. She knows and understands it all. She can tell you nearly anything you wish to learn, if you know how to ask.¡±

    The dryad stretched out his arms and let his fingers drift over Dirt¡¯s face, and the nearby ferns, and even the statue. He moved gracefully, like a dance, which carried him all around the garden. ¡°She is like the Father of Wolves¡ªolder than this world. Over countless years, she has seen all there is to see, but no matter what, she must keep moving. The wind must always blow. She cannot be slowed by grief or pleasure. That¡¯s what she is. She can never stop.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± said Callius, slowing to stillness, ¡°she just doesn¡¯t let it affect her when something happens, good or bad. Most of her mind isn¡¯t even here. The physical is more like a dream to her than anything. She knows it all, sees it all, remembers everything. But her true self is not in the physical. The elementals live in the world of magic.¡±

    Then Callius did an impressive backward cartwheel, and Dirt suspected he wasn¡¯t really trying to demonstrate, just that he liked to move. Which he did.

    ¡°I supposed I should tell you one last thing. If you speak aloud, she will hear your words, and know them, but she will never think about them. You must speak to her in her world, in terms of the process and the power. That she will understand. Now, are you ready?¡± said Callius, his face lighting up like M¨¤xim¡¯s did when he proposed a new game. Exactly like it, in fact.

    Dirt grinned. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Root travel carried them to the top of a tree, but Dirt wasn¡¯t quite sure which one until he looked at her mind. Starwatcher. She was only barely aware of him, focused instead on the great work of the forest. It made sense to climb her, though, since she was the first tree he¡¯d met the elementals in. They must be friends.

    The great elemental was there waiting, as much as she was anywhere, or waiting. But no wind reached the leaves¡ªit was all higher, blowing overhead. Dirt couldn¡¯t even hear it, and if not for his mind-sight he might not know she was here at all.

    A new branch grew where Dirt was perched, just wide enough for him to stand on. He ducked down to keep his balance until it stopped moving, a dozen paces above the treetops. It felt precarious, but Callius was watching intently and would probably catch him if he fell.

    Dirt carefully got back up and only once he was fully standing did he feel the breeze. The trees had lifted him just high enough to feel it gently in his hair. He felt nothing on his bare feet, and the hem of his pants didn¡¯t move.

    He sent her a warm emotion of greeting, directly to her mind, accompanied by her perception of his face in her air. Her attention increased and Dirt got the impression that the entire sky had perked up in curiosity, which made him grin.

    Dirt closed his eyes and looked with his mind-sight and mana body. He manifested the sigil for ¡®beginning a new process¡¯, but left it open and unpowered.

    The elemental grabbed hold of it immediately and drew more in countless, expanding patterns. Sigils rotated around each other and tiny flares of mana caused brief sensations that tickled his awareness. He saw much that he recognized, although far from all. But here was ¡®wind¡¯ and there was ¡®increase¡¯ and¡­

    Oh, she was talking about carrying him away! Now that he knew what she meant, it was easier to follow. Her story was a recitation of a continual process, describing how it happened more than why. This section described how much wind power it took to lift him, with a portion dedicated to the wind sliding off his skinny body and smooth skin, making it harder. Then over here, she was telling him what direction they¡¯d gone, and he learned several new sigils related to navigation.

    With his mind sight, he could sense some of her emotion, which turned out to be more like nostalgia than novelty, which surprised him. Was he not the first human she¡¯d talked to? There was a sense of familiarity that had no other explanation.

    Her story continued, and he saw how she recognized that he was freezing and the cold was hurting his skin. From that, he learned four new sigils related to temperature and a new configuration of sigils that would indicate skin, by how it naturally functioned.

    By the time she was done, Dirt was sure he¡¯d missed more than he¡¯d learned, but even so, he had learned quite a bit. He sent her a poof of gratitude, since he had no other way to say thank you. She drew a new sigil for him, two of them. ¡®Gainful¡¯ and ¡®closure at the end of an increase¡¯. He repeated them back to her. Now that, at least, was simple. Magical thank you.

    Other elementals were gathering, small gusts and zephyrs that reminded Dirt of puppies racing around their mother. Mostly they played with each other, but always returned their attention to her and what she was doing.

    The great elemental drew ¡®beginning a new process¡¯ for him, and he hesitated while trying to figure out what to do with it. What should he say? He pictured the towers of the palace in Ogena, tall and thin as they reached up into the sky. Then he tried to draw them for her, carefully describing them with sigils in terms of how the air would flow around them.

    He was just starting to feel like he¡¯d gotten the hang of it when she picked up on what he was doing and started filling in the details with dazzling accuracy and complexity. She drew much of the city, including the walls, in a greater array of sigils and shapes than his poor little mind could take in. But if he looked carefully, he could see the people moving along the streets by the disturbance they made in the wind. Not well enough to tell them apart, but it was captivating nonetheless.

    Dirt tried something else and began describing Socks, showing his shape and his shaggy fur. Even his color, since Dirt knew sigils that could get pretty close. Once again, she understood and filled in the rest, and Dirt recognized his big friend perfectly. He knew every detail already, from the shape of his nose to the length of his snout, to the size of the scratches his claws left when he ran. Everything. And so did she.

    She left the array open, waiting for him to act on it somehow and explain what he wanted. Dirt puzzled over it for a moment and then grinned mischievously. He drew the sigils for motion and air and said, ¡°Hi Socks! You¡¯re not imagining this. See you soon!¡±

    It took her quite a bit of analysis, which he could only weakly help with, to understand what he meant. And once she did, she answered with only a few simple sigils, ¡®delay¡¯ and ¡®distant¡¯ and ¡®pass between separate segments¡¯. Her mind grew distant, the vast light of it that stretched from horizon to horizon fading.

    The air went still as she and all the little elementals withdrew. Dirt waited for a bit, wondering if it was over. He counted to a hundred before he started looking around and thinking about how he was going to get down. Should he yell to Callius, or just jump down there to be caught?

    But then she came rushing back, a strong gust that almost tipped him over. He drew the opening sigil again and awaited her explanation, which came quickly. Then Dirt laughed, loud and hard. He¡¯d startled Socks so bad the pup had jumped in the air and yelped. That was it, just the pup leaping up into the breeze and the pathetic sound he made. Serves him right, after doing that to Dirt so many times!

    Dirt thanked her and ended the conversation. He¡¯d want to do this more and learn all he could and become her friend, but for now, he had to tell someone about the prank he¡¯d just pulled. That couldn¡¯t wait.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 12

    Callius listened to the story with patient good humor, and laughed along convincingly when Dirt mimicked the sound Socks made and how he jumped in the air. Dirt was unconvinced he found it as funny as he acted, but without Callius¡¯ tree nearby to read his mind, there was no way to be sure.

    After that, the trees sent him back to the schola while they resumed fixing the climate, which was perfect, because he had plans. First, he rummaged through the scrolls in the library until he found blank paper in usable condition. Then he sorted through the boxes in the main hall until he found a compass and ruler. After that, an ivory and brass quill, which he set on one of the ancient, questionable tables. He tested the chair just to make sure it wouldn¡¯t collapse under him, and it didn¡¯t.

    With everything else in place, he went from table to table until he found the last thing he needed: an inkwell. Only when he found one did he finally realize the problem. The ink was dry. Of course it was. He checked several more, and obviously, they were all dry.

    He took one out to the garden and put a few drops of water in from the basin, but the ink was beyond saving.

    Dirt stood there for a moment, staring at nothing. How was he supposed to write down everything he¡¯d just learned to make sure he remembered it? He¡¯d probably remember most of it regardless, but still, he wanted to try drawing the sigils.

    Should he use blood? No, probably not. He might need a lot and the trees would get mad at him. That, and Socks wasn¡¯t around to lick his cuts, and it would hurt. So, what else could he use? Ferns? Mud?

    Ferns would work. Dirt knew you could make ink from plants, like flowers and berries. He just didn¡¯t know how. So then it was back to the library to see if he could find the method written down somewhere. And if not that, then maybe someone knew in Ogena, and he could go visit by root travel and ask around. It¡¯d been several weeks since he¡¯d left, so they might be happy to see him.

    He didn¡¯t find the answer, though, because he soon got distracted reading other things. Someone had left a text on history open to a part about a war, which quickly captured his interest.

    It told of Emperor Hostilius and his battles against the horsemen of the vast western plains, the Ceremisian tribes. The Sunset Empire lost every battle because the horsemen never properly lined up to fight, preferring instead to ride by on their horses and shoot arrows with their clever bows. Twice, the losses were so bad the Empire had to leave and come back next year with fresh troops. The war lasted fifteen years and the most interesting thing was how it ended:

    That was the last battle the Emperor fought against the plainsmen, for no further conflict was required despite it ending in a draw. For Hostilius had seen farther than they and planned more cleverly, with greater wisdom than all their elders possessed. Our armies never once truly bested theirs, but it was our preparations that brought about their defeat.

    I told you of the fortifications he built at Quintus and Septus, at Terraco and Scalabis and Sorviodurum. He built many more walled towns besides, all the first settled places on these stretches of earth. Each town was given supplies sufficient to outlast any sieges until the armies could return, and their walls were high, proof against horsemen and arrows. I spoke also of the roads he laid down at great expense. Aqueducts were built, and irrigation dug.

    Beside these, I told you of the groves of olive and grape, the fruits of which he let be sold very cheaply to the barbarians, even at a loss, to give them a taste of civilization. But for this foresight, the Gods would not have had opportunity to give us their blessing in the death of the first Khan, whose brother ordered the groves be untouched so he could gather their fruit for himself.

    Hostilius decreed that despite ongoing bloodshed, the gates were open to any Ceremisians who came unarmed in small numbers, and instructed the citizens should welcome them with friendly hands and words of respect for their prowess in battle and virility. He let it be known that any barbarian who wished to become a citizen would be welcomed, with his wives and children retained as his own. By this, he led the barbarians to believe that our Empire was not worried about them, and that they were perhaps not truly a threat to us.

    When the horsemen came to graze upon the land they previously held, even if they encircled the walls of a city, they were unmolested if they did no harm to the citizens. The Emperor provided gifts to be given out by free men, to make it seem to the barbarians that our people lived easily, surrounded by all the riches they themselves desired to take by force, with such abundance that every man could afford to give away a portion with no regard for repayment.

    Should any hostility be shown, the citizens summoned men with bows and armor to drive them off, focusing on killing their horses and capturing the riders for sale as slaves. If no sufficient number of soldiers could be called, the citizens took their goods inside the walls and shut the gates. They were then made to be seen atop the walls, feasting and singing and laughing.

    Those Ceremisians who knelt before our glorious Emperor were given education, particularly their children, at public expense. They were given shelter and food for their horses and praised for their husbandry. Thus they were made comfortable and pliable. They were made harmless by telling them they need never hunt again, in token of which they should give up their bows. Additionally, they were not allowed to live together in numbers greater than fifty, instead being quietly distributed throughout the Empire, some given lands, others not. In this manner, if a Ceremisian proved himself intractable or unsuited, he could be slain or enslaved without his kinsmen coming to know of it.

    Only slowly did the independent Ceremisians come to understand how thoroughly they were defeated. Thousands defected each year for a better life, or what they were led to believe would be better. Great portions of their plains had already become ours, despite our inability to conquer them in battle. They allowed this to happen because they focused on what remained¡ªnot what they had lost¡ªand measured it sufficient for their current needs.

    Never again did a great Khan rise to gather them to war. Every further action against us was a raid of little significance. Now our Empire stretches across the entirety of the plains to the far coast. The Ceremisians have ceased to be a people, their language seldom heard.

    Had they come at first in their full strength to the center of the Sunset Empire, with armies full of men and stomachs full of meat, they could have defeated us. Had they other neighbors to conquer first and thus overwhelm us with numbers, we might have been overrun. Indeed, had they focused their efforts on preventing resupply instead of capturing wealth, we might still be at war centuries later.

    I suggest that the true cause of their downfall was not the greater appeal our culture held. Nor was it the decay of their martial prowess as the available grazing lands for their horses diminished. Nor was it their inability to push us thoroughly beyond their borders during those fifteen years of constant warfare.

    It was this: They lost their conquering spirit, because they believed they had more to gain without it. Our lands remain vulnerable even now to a foe such as they were¡ªmobile, with equal willingness to slaughter a defeated population as to subdue them, and no reliance on complex infrastructure.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    For many centuries before these wars, our civilization paid them bribes to assuage their greed and bloodlust, even though they seldom united into anything truly formidable. The belief that a Khan might arise among them was sufficient to open the pockets of our rulers.

    And it was never a false belief. Their outlook and practices remained unchanged since the Gods first led them into those grasslands and gave them their first horses, until Hostilius.

    I shall demur rather than say more on this at this time. The reader has sufficient insight to shake out what further wisdom may be gleaned from these events.

    Dirt quietly rolled two halves of the scroll together again, leaving it in the same spot so he could reread it later. He set it down and stared at it for a time, contemplating what there was to learn. It was certainly relevant, even if it wasn¡¯t the same as what was happening now. But losing their conquering spirit? That sounded exactly like what Dirt had observed. If any remained, it was a fading ember. A few sparks drifting on the night air.

    Sparks named H¨¨ctor, Marina, and to a smaller degree, Ignasi. And the Duke, now that he¡¯d ridden into battle himself. And Dirt, for what it was worth. Little Dirt, the spark, because a part of him still remembered what humans were capable of.

    Perhaps a conquering spirit would match well with a wolf. Dirt wasn¡¯t a predator¡ªthat was silly; he didn¡¯t even have claws¡ªbut human greatness was something different. Socks, the great hunter, and Dirt, the conqueror. The spark.

    Dirt slid off the chair and rummaged around until he found the basket of toy soldiers. There were nine of them, just shorter than his hand, and one charioteer with two horses. They were tin and brass, and if they¡¯d even been used as toys, the boy had been wealthy. It was just as likely they were table decorations, but Dirt didn¡¯t care.

    He lined them up, giving the chariot to the Ceremisian side since they were horsemen, and staged a little battle. This one was the Emperor, and he stepped forward and gave a speech about giving up their warfare and becoming citizens. The one in the chariot was the Khan, who replied with a passionate speech of his own about respecting their lands and traditions.

    Then they fought, and Dirt stepped through each swing of the sword for each pair of fighters, resolving them separately while considering how it affected the battle overall. The Ceremisians won, of course, but the Emperor got away and vowed to come back with another army. ¡°Come back, then!¡± shouted Dirt, loud enough to echo in the hall. His voice startled him. He hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been talking out loud.

    Well, it wasn¡¯t like anyone was around to hear him. After that he reenacted each battle he could remember from the text, taking plenty of liberties. Some of which because he had almost no idea how either side actually waged war, having only the Camayan knights to draw on, and some of which because it was a game and he could do as he pleased.

    The game was even more realistic when he stopped using his hands and started using his mind to move them around, such as sliding them on the ground and imagining them walking. It was hard to move two at once, no matter how easy Socks made it look, but he managed where necessary.

    After that, he wasted the rest of the day. He spent some time playing with the toys he could find among the treasure, or reading things that weren¡¯t magic and didn¡¯t count as studying. Home was still sitting out in the schola¡¯s immense garden, on the same stone bench, and he asked her for meals twice before the day ended.

    He took another hot bath before bed that night, soaking long enough for his fingers to pickle, long enough the trees all went to sleep leaving him to crawl out and dry off in pitch-darkness. Dirt resolved to remember to ask them for a towel in the morning, since they knew how to make cloth now. Thank Grace, there were no nightmares. Just snippets of dreams that fled faster than the morning dew.

    The next day passed much like that one, talking to the wind in the morning and learning a bit more, then wandering the ruins and looking at the murals and sculptures, then reading in the schola, then taking another long bath.

    The following day was much the same, and Dirt was starting to itch from too much time alone. He kept thinking about Socks, too, hoping he was all right. The lack of news bothered him, even though it shouldn¡¯t.

    But the day after that, the trees all woke with him in the morning, filling his garden and the road in front of it with their dryads before he even rolled out of bed. He wasn¡¯t expecting their faces peering in the doorway and startled when he saw them, then grinned.

    ¡°Hi, everyone! Looks like you fixed all the weather?¡± he said, arms outstretched to welcome them.

    Home stood taller than the rest and stepped forward to gather him to her bosom in a motherly way. She hugged him gently and said, ¡°Our work is complete. The oncoming winter will pass us by. We hope you do not feel too neglected. Are you still in good spirits, dear Dirt?¡±

    She was putting a lot of effort into her dryad at the moment, even mimicking the layer of fat under the skin of her back when Dirt returned her hug. Only the fact that she was the same temperature as the ground gave it away.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I had a lot to do and I know you were busy. I¡¯d hate to visit in the winter and find the ground frozen and all the ferns dead. And the grubs. Whatever happened to them? I haven¡¯t seen them in a while,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°You¡¯ll find out in the spring. We don¡¯t want to ruin the surprise,¡± said Callius.

    ¡°What¡¯s surprising about a grub?¡± asked Dirt. But he got no answer. Home released him and then it was Sunset¡¯s turn, then Dawn¡¯s, then Chaser¡¯s, and after that, Dirt got passed around for quite a while, since he had to hug everybody and every last one of them was here. By the end, Dirt wished he¡¯d thought to count so he¡¯d know how many there were.

    They played hide and hunt after that, dodging in and out of the buildings and ducking beneath the ferns alongside the roads or in gardens. When it was their turn to hunt, they all hunted, and when it was his, he had to find ten of them, which wasn¡¯t easy. The only advantage he had was that not all of them understood perspective and didn¡¯t realize when part of them was still visible. Jumping from stone to stone and roof to roof made it hard to track him by the ferns, but they often did the same thing. They even caught him lying flat on a roof, and Dirt had to wonder if someone had put eyes on their tree trunk to find him from above.

    As fun as that was, by the time Dirt got hungry he was also growing restless. He kept thinking about Socks, hoping he was all right. When was he going to hear something?

    He ate while sitting in an area that had been a circular park once, not far from his villa. The dryads sat around him in crowded rings, all trying to act leisurely while still watching everything he did.

    Dirt ate quickly, not that it would help. What was Socks doing, he wondered? Was he having fun with his family? This was already the longest they¡¯d been apart.

    ¡°Hey, Home, is Socks by your staff we left behind? Do you know what he¡¯s up to?¡±

    ¡°I have not seen him since the first day. The pack left the area and I have not tracked them. The Father of Wolves will return him when it is time to reunite you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I was just thinking about him. We¡¯re going to travel south soon, where there¡¯s a desert. So that¡¯s exciting. I hope we find more humans there, and fewer monsters,¡± said Dirt.

    The dryads nodded politely, and Dirt wondered if they¡¯d known. Father spoke directly to his mind, and Home¡¯s staff couldn¡¯t read that.

    ¡°Father gave Socks the choice to go north for the winter, or south, and he picked south so I could come. Winter in the north is too cold and I¡¯d probably freeze, so I wouldn¡¯t have been able to go. Hopefully after winter, we¡¯ll be allowed to go wherever we want again, because I think we were getting close to the Camayan kingdom¡¯s capital before we had to go meet Father.¡± Dirt took another bite, which he chewed more slowly, trying not to feel worried without a good reason. ¡°We weren¡¯t really hurrying, though.¡±

    Even so, he felt increasingly uneasy the longer he sat. It wasn¡¯t restlessness anymore. Something was wrong, and there was no telling what it was. He could simply feel it. ¡°Are you sure Socks isn¡¯t there? Is he okay?¡±

    ¡°I am sure that I do not know, dear Dirt. I will let¡ª¡± said Home, pausing. She went inert, all the life vanishing and turning her dryad back into a puppet. She was thinking, Dirt knew. Focusing harder than usual.

    She came back to life and put a worried look on her face. ¡°Socks has found my staff and he looks frantic. I will send you to him. How did you know?¡±

    Dirt nodded, steeling himself. ¡°I just knew somehow. Send me now.¡±

    The world vanished and he shot forward at impossible speed. A moment later a blast of cold air hit him as hard as the lumpy ground did. He groaned, dazed, and opened his eyes. It was darker than last time, overcast with low, heavy clouds. Which Dirt appreciated, since sudden bright light would have given him a headache.

    Socks stepped back and forth, indeed frantic. His siblings were nowhere to be seen. As soon as he smelled Dirt he practically leaped on him, stopping with his nose inches from his face. His mental voice came scared and small, full of worry. -Help!-

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 13

    -Help!- Socks said again, more insistently. -Hurry!-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what help I¡¯ll be, but I¡¯ll try my best,¡± said Dirt. He knelt and picked up the Home-staff, still in the shape of an arm brace, slipped it on, and patted it fondly. He¡¯d ask her to change shapes later, when it was more convenient.

    -Get on. We can¡¯t find Father. And Sister is gone,-- said Socks. -We don¡¯t know what to do.-

    The pup turned around and Dirt used mana to jump on just in time to grab the harness for a run. Socks was certainly not wasting any time. Dirt hunkered down and Socks left at a full sprint. The rushing wind and sheer speed reminded him of flying with the elemental, which revived a physical memory of terror that he had to push down.

    -Why are your fingertips sore? And your toes, too. What have you been doing with the trees?- asked Socks. He slowed slightly, but sped back up once he noticed.

    ¡°They had me try to learn to speak with an air elemental, a big one that I think is a mother of smaller winds. I¡¯m getting the hang of it, but, well¡­¡± said Dirt. ¡°We had a little misunderstanding that resulted in her lifting me into the sky and tossing me around. She thought I wanted to fly, perhaps. I¡¯m still not sure. But anyway, it was cold up there and I wasn¡¯t dressed, and the cold got to me. But it¡¯s not bad. I¡¯m fine.¡±

    -It seems like every time you visit them, something horrible happens,- said Socks.

    Dirt chuckled into Socks¡¯ fur, enjoying the fact he could keep his eyes closed and not be terrified he was about to hit something and die. ¡°It really does. But I still love them. I¡¯m glad I went. I can¡¯t wait to show you¡­ Oh! Okay, don¡¯t look at this. I want it to be a surprise. I have something really, really great to show you.¡± He did his best to lock away the disinterred city, all its handsome buildings and roads restored to their proper places. And in particular, he buried the memory of his hot bath so tightly he almost forgot about it himself. ¡°You¡¯re gonna love it.¡±

    -I¡¯m not in the mood to love anything right now. I am too worried.-

    ¡°Sorry. So what¡¯s going on? Where are we going?¡±

    -There¡¯s an old place that Father said he hasn¡¯t seen in a long time, and he said all sorts of old things are coming back now, like little Dirt from ancient days. So he decided to show us. He was in a good mood because his pups are strong. But then he disappeared. And so did Sister, who followed right after him.-

    ¡°What do you mean he disappeared? He ran away, or he fell in a hole, or something like that?¡±

    -I mean just what I said,- snapped Socks. Then he felt chagrined for speaking sharply, but Dirt sent him a puff of reassurance. He understood perfectly; there was no need to explain.

    Socks shared the rest with images instead of words. He saw Father from the pup¡¯s perspective, slightly smaller but not by much. And Sister walking like all the other pups did¡ªmostly following, but stepping this way or that to smell something interesting or look behind a rock. Sometimes ahead, sometimes rushing to catch up. But for now, she was only a few steps behind her sire, and was the closest.

    The great black wolf stepped lightly between two square monoliths that guarded the entrance. Inside was a perfectly circular valley, nestled up in an expanse of sharp, rocky hills. A great wind went before him and threw several millennia¡¯s worth of drifted sand and weeds into a towering cloud that drifted out of sight. Ripples of disturbed force spread like waves on water wherever anything larger than a mouse passed through the dome of faintest light that covered this place.

    Father spoke to his children without words, sending pictures and scents and emotions instead. His voice sounded very different from Socks¡¯ perspective. It was warm and strong and not the least threatening. The meaning was perfectly clear: HUMANS DID NOT BUILD THIS. OLDER CREATURES DID AND THEY WERE NO FRIENDS TO OUR KIND. BUT WE REMAIN AND THEY DO NOT. THEY WERE HUMAN SIZE, SO THIS PLACE IS SMALL.

    It didn¡¯t look small to Socks. It looked as big as a city, a great big circular one, with sections containing an exciting variety of things. The buildings were so old they hardly looked like buildings anymore, with solitary pillars of lichen-painted stone standing here and there, amongst piles of debris so decayed they might never have been part of anything at all.

    Underneath it all, the roads were still intact. Or perhaps the entire city was built on a stone platform. Either way, it was more impressive than any of the human roads and might have put their fine buildings to shame if everything was all still standing. The decoration style was bizarre, with long, exact lines and curves tracing across great distances of unbroken roadway. The ground was all intact, one single piece.

    Socks sniffed at the old dust and smelled traces of little mammals and birds, larval insects, and drifted leaves. Nothing big, though. Not even curious wolf.

    THIS PLACE HASN¡¯T BEEN ACTIVE FOR¡ª

    And then he was gone. Father vanished without a trace except a whiff of air that smelled like it came from somewhere else. Not even a scent of surprise left behind. Sister, in shock, stepped over to where he had been and disappeared as well.

    Socks looked at his siblings¡ªBrother, Brother, and Sister¡ªand they were as stunned as he was.

    -And that was what happened. I was the farthest away, so I told them to sit down and wait while I went to get my human. Only one of us should risk moving, and I was the only one with somewhere to go. We have tried to speak to Mother but she is resting now and does not hear us,- said Socks. -I came to get you because I don¡¯t know what else to do.-

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine anything happening to Father that he didn¡¯t want to have happen,¡± said Dirt.

    -Me neither,- said Socks, his voice full of worry, which floated across a deeper cavern of quietly rumbling terror. Dirt recognized it. That¡¯s what had been nagging at him earlier, that feeling.

    They left the rest unsaid. Dirt sent puffs of encouragement to Socks, but they just made him feel worse, because neither of them truly had much hope. Instead, the idea of Father being gone sank in more and more, and the world became an empty, terrifying, hostile place.

    It was a long run from there, a cold one through an icy wind that smelled like snow. Dirt stayed warm by staying down, his fingers dug into Socks¡¯ fur. What few shaggy late-autumn leaves still clung to the trees and brush looked wilted now, wind-blown and tired. The grasses, once yellow and stiff, were gray and sagging.

    Socks ran over high and rocky landscape, through hills and along the foothills of long mountains with crests of brown rock. Twice the pup became so distraught that he forgot to cycle mana and suddenly found himself too tired to run until he caught his breath, and no amount of affection from Dirt could fully soothe him.

    Dusk arrived too quickly, but not before they arrived. Socks¡¯ siblings sensed his coming and sent their worried greetings, just thoughts at first in the way of wolves, then adding words for Dirt¡¯s benefit.

    -YOU WERE GONE A LONG TIME-, said Brother.

    -I¡¯m back now, though,- replied Socks. He approached the two obsidian pillars, a material Dirt recognized but had never thought about before, and smelled the crosswind before stepping through the gap.

    That gave Dirt just long enough to see the markings, which none of the wolves had cared enough to look at, including Socks. It might have been writing, but if it was, the script was ridiculous. Instead of nice, clean, separate lines to draw a letter, these markings were far too flowing, too flowery, like cursive that had gotten out of control. They swooped decoratively and had too many curves, too many stray dots and markings, all of which would make it hard to read or to carve them. But what they might have been instead, Dirt couldn¡¯t guess.

    From the outside, there wasn¡¯t much else to see. The rocky hills rose steeply beside either pillar, quickly becoming taller than even Father, and the gap shimmered, like seeing through fog so faint that Dirt might not have noticed if he hadn¡¯t been looking for it.

    Socks didn¡¯t smell any approaching danger, so in they went. The inside was just as Socks had shown him, a city not quite as large as Ogena with its walls, but larger than Llovella. The stone inside wasn¡¯t black obsidian like the entrance pillars¡ªit was all a neutral gray, granite probably, dirty and lichen-covered with age.

    Looking around, Dirt wasn¡¯t convinced that anyone had ever lived here. Rough gray monoliths dotted the area, surrounded by piles of rubble and broken stone. It seemed more like a wasteland than a ruined city. Nothing even looked like a building anymore. The area was strangely dry, the air quiet and unmoving, and despite the chill wind just a moment before, it was warmer here. The sky was blue and barren overhead, sun already sunken past the ring of hills that comprised the horizon.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    The most notable thing to see was the three other wolves, two the same shaggy gray as Socks, whom Dirt knew from his litter, and a blackening one twice their size, who was Brother. The three of them stood up, anxiously wagging their tails.

    Dirt slid off Socks and walked back to the two obsidian pillars to take a closer look. He turned his gaze inward, onto his mana body.

    Just as he suspected, something was happening with the pillars. They were an active working of magic, almost certainly tied to others around the perimeter; but what their precise purpose was, he couldn¡¯t tell. Something about the air, that was part of it. Holding it steady and keeping it clean, which made sense. But still letting it¡­ talk, maybe? Exchange something? With the air outside the dome.

    That part of the spell probably anchored it into the pillars, and a carefully balanced array of sigils drew a perfect stream of power to keep it going. There were plenty of new ones, but the strangest thing about them was how they were only partially anchored in the stone. From what he knew, if you wanted a spell to stay there, you had to draw the whole thing and there was no way for it to gather any mana on its own. If Dirt could learn how this worked, then his bath would stay warm forever, all on its own!

    Socks nudged him from behind and Dirt said, ¡°Sorry. I was just trying to figure out what magic is happening here. How close do you think we can get to where Father and Sister disappeared without disappearing ourselves?¡±

    The pup picked Dirt up with his mind and put him on his back, then headed toward the center of the circular town at a jog.

    -WHAT CAN DIRT DO THAT WILL HELP?- asked the older male.

    -We have nowhere else to go for help. We will see together if he can help at all,- said Socks.

    -Do not disappear,- said Sister, sick to watch Socks risking everything by running around.

    What could Dirt say to comfort any of them? They weren¡¯t stupid. Dirt and Socks would be no match for anything that could surprise Father. But neither could they give in to despair, not until they saw a corpse.

    He watched the lines on the street as they ran, long and perfect. Somehow, none of the ground had been damaged when everything else decayed. Dirt looked with his mana body, but if there was some great working to preserve it like the scrolls, it was too large or too distant for him to perceive.

    No, if anything, the lines themselves looked more like the kind of enchantment he was familiar with, just on an outrageous scale. The entire city might be a spell. It might not even be a city at all. Maybe no one had ever lived here in the first place.

    Although that didn¡¯t make sense. They were clearly on a road, one very similar in width to any from the Sunset Empire. And those monoliths might have supported wooden constructions that decayed in the eons since they were abandoned. Who could tell? Was that gap a doorway? Socks wasn¡¯t about to stop and let him poke around and think about it.

    Dirt could believe, however, that it wasn¡¯t a human place. It might not have occurred to him if Father hadn¡¯t said so, but something about it seemed to repulse him. Something about how it was laid out, maybe. It bothered him, like a triangle with one corner not quite joined. He wished there was even a single statue to see what the creatures who built it looked like.

    The spot where Father and Sister disappeared was on the far third of the circle, and along the way, they crossed the center of the city, an array of joining sigils decorating a great plaza. The creatures probably walked all over it with impunity, if the stone was still in such good shape even now. Father¡¯s wind had cleaned all the dust out of the grooves and Dirt recognized a few sigils for direction. The spell here had no power in it, though. There was nothing to see with his mana body beyond the faint and subtle workings of regular physical existence.

    They stopped at the edge of another plaza, this one square, with a clear area large enough for Father to lie down in. The stone was bare except a wide U shape and an indented border.

    -Here. I think it was here,- said Socks. He sniffed around and told Dirt and his siblings what scents he found. Father, Sister, and the faintest hints of something else. Plants that Socks didn¡¯t recognize, so faint he could only barely perceive them.

    Dirt wondered if the wolves got turned into plants, but that wasn¡¯t it. There weren¡¯t any here. So where did that smell come from?

    There were no other traces. No bones, blood, or fur. Not even a scent of pain or fear from Father or Sister.

    Socks keened softly, his fear growing even more now that he found not a single clue what had happened. Dirt slid down again and the pup put a wall of mental force in front of him to keep his pet from taking even one step forward. Dirt patted Socks¡¯ foreleg. He wasn¡¯t going anywhere.

    There was magic here. An enchantment, too large for Dirt to see all of it. Or even most of it. Just a few sigils joining a grand working to this spot. And most of those were only half-manifested and unreadable; the mana was weak and sputtering, exhausted and unable to renew itself.

    Dirt told everyone, ¡°My guess is, whatever happened probably took a very, very long time to charge up. Father might not have known this was here, or that it would do anything, if he wasn¡¯t actively looking. It¡¯s also possible he knew and did it on purpose. You should all be safe if you don¡¯t step anywhere that has a symbol like this. You can come out if you want.¡±

    The other pups gingerly stepped from where they¡¯d been perched for hours, stretching and shaking their fur as they did. Once they were convinced nothing would happen, they visibly cheered up.

    He and Socks looked at each other, and Dirt smiled and jerked his head in their direction. Socks left at a run to go comfort his siblings. They met in the plaza in the center and began licking each other¡¯s snouts and rubbing their faces and shoulders together as if they had all escaped grave peril. Which they might have.

    Dirt picked a line and followed it, wondering where it would end up. Only a few spaces over, which might have contained buildings, and he saw a partially-buried sigil. He tried lifting some of the shattered stone that covered it, but it was too heavy, even with mana strengthening his body.

    Well, he just needed to get an idea what it did. Was Father still alive? Maybe he¡¯d been carried somewhere like with root travel. Maybe he¡¯d been shunted out of reality and into the void. Or something else entirely.

    Dirt leaned down and touched the edge of the sigil with his finger and gave it a little puff of mana. It manifested in the magic world and Dirt recognized it. This sigil didn¡¯t have its own specific function; it modified other sigils to lengthen their effects. Well, that was good. At least he didn¡¯t start a fire seeing what it was.

    It got dark before Dirt had much chance to trace the lines and figure out what the whole spell was for, and tracing the spell out under his little lights was rather slow. There was no moon yet, and the stars in the blackening sky didn¡¯t do much for his vision they like did for the pups.

    He considered stopping for the night, but the pups were too restless. They could still smell each other¡¯s fear and it kept any of them from fully relaxing, or stopping being afraid. None of them wanted to face the night without getting any answers. Not in this place.

    So Dirt did the only thing he could think of and started pumping mana into the spell. Nothing visible happened, but the world of magic ignited into a dazzling array of sigils and swirling magical combinations that sucked up power faster than he could provide it. It was easily as sophisticated as a full expression from the elemental.

    ¡°No one move for a bit. I¡¯m trying to figure out what this does and I might accidentally turn it on,¡± Dirt told the pups.

    The four of them froze and sent him wordless panic. He replied with a feeling of reassurance and said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m just looking. I won¡¯t use it.¡±

    They were not much reassured. Socks couldn¡¯t help himself and padded silently over to stand right over Dirt, watching warily to make sure he didn¡¯t do anything foolish. The other pups stayed away, which was probably wise.

    He sighed and grit his teeth, then refocused. Okay, what was this for? He could only keep part of it going at a time, and he didn¡¯t get to pick which part. That was a sigil for stone, one which had been modified and expanded in a way that probably meant a particular type of stone, or even a specific stone. Around that, sigils for motion and power, an array that might filter things out? It acted on air, and Dirt was pretty sure it excluded it. But not always¡ªthere was a reverse in there, if something else activated.

    Dirt stood and hurried back over to the square plaza with the U shape in it. This was the center of it, and whatever the spell did happened here. Well, obviously. But not just here. He noticed the mana he fed in wasn¡¯t draining out¡ªit was being retained. The enchantment wanted to be full, but whatever powered it was too slow and anemic to do so quickly. At the imperceptible rate that the mana trickled in on its own¡­ Well, Dirt had already guessed that part too.

    Against his own better judgment, Socks provided the remaining mana the spell needed in a steady, monstrous flow, until finally Dirt could see the whole thing at once.

    Just as he¡¯d suspected, once it was fully powered, a connection formed that stretched far, far beyond sight. Which wasn¡¯t that far in the dark, but that was all Dirt needed to be sure.

    ¡°It¡¯s like root travel. It carries people somewhere else. But, I think only living things. And maybe their clothes. It¡¯s hard to tell. Father probably drained almost all of its power and Sister emptied the rest. Anyone else who stepped here wouldn¡¯t have gone anywhere,¡± said Dirt.

    --WHERE DID IT PUT HIM? IN THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA? INSIDE SOLID STONE? WHY CAN¡¯T HE HEAR US?- said Brother, insistent and impatient because he was worried.

    ¡°I have no idea, but probably somewhere very, very far away. And I think that plant smell was because it replaced Father and Sister with the air on the other side. So not water, and not rock. They¡¯re fine. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re alive. In fact, I¡¯m certain,¡± said Dirt.

    -When will they come back?- asked Sister.

    -And why haven¡¯t they already,- said Socks. --See, my human is useful.-

    Dirt sat at the edge of the square plaza, just out of range of the spell. Socks sat beside him, hovering protectively to make sure Dirt didn¡¯t get any ideas.

    ¡°I guess we should wait here for the night and see if they come back. I think if he wants to, Father can just power up the other side and it¡¯ll bring him across.¡±

    They were amenable to that and gathered nearby to lay down and rest. None of them wanted to get this close to the plaza, though, and Dirt couldn¡¯t blame them. But he did know something that would help them feel better.

    He stood and stepped out from under Socks. It was time to show off one of his new tricks. The pup lay down and blocked the road into the plaza, keeping a wary eye on him.

    Dirt carefully hid his thoughts and lifted the rake from Socks¡¯ harness with his mind. It floated down toward his hand and no sooner did Socks see it than he yelped in surprise and jumped all the way in the air, instinctively trying to get away. Dirt reached out to grab the rake, laughter forming in his throat.

    Then Socks landed with three paws in the plaza. And vanished.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 14

    Dirt stared in shock for a moment, until he was interrupted by the scraping of claws on stone behind him. He spun and saw Socks¡¯ siblings rising to their feet with growls in their throats.

    Perhaps he might have waited to see if Socks came back on his own, or if Father reached out and spoke to him. Or if, perhaps, he could discern more about the destination before he tried it himself. It was one thing to say it landed somewhere safe, and quite another to find out firsthand. But seeing the pups¡¯ lingering fear turn to anger dramatically limited his options.

    -¡°I better go make sure he¡¯s all right. We¡¯ll charge up the other side and come back if we can,¡±- Dirt told them. ¡°Maybe you should hunt instead of waiting around, though, just in case.¡±

    Then, before any of them could do something hasty, he held his breath, steeled himself, and sprinted into the plaza. His foot landed on the engraved border in the stonework and all the world twisted away.

    White chaos clawed at him and Dirt knew he was in the void. The eternal abyss, outside all existence, which held so much suffering and so little else. He was there just long enough to start to panic, to think maybe he would remain here now and return to his original fate. And he¡¯d deserve it twice over, once for breaking the world and once for putting Socks here.

    But then gravity took hold of him and he felt himself pulled gently back into existence. The void scattered with a faint sound like breaking glass.

    He stood in snow up to his knees, in the midst of a quiet snowstorm so deep that it hid anything more than a dozen paces away in any direction. The falling snow clung to him, sticking to his sleeves and hair and threatening to bury him. There was no wind, no motion except the plummeting clumps of snow, and no sound.

    ¡°Socks? Socks! Hello?!¡± Dirt shouted mentally. Then, just in case, he shouted with his voice as well, giving a high, shrieking howl, hoping the pup¡¯s hearing might catch it.

    No reply came, at least not that he could hear. The snow seemed to muffle even the sound of his breathing.

    So where were the ruins? There should at least be fallen stones and things around. All he could see were some indistinct lumps, none taller than his waist. The ground was otherwise perfectly smooth white, and the falling snow shrank the world to a tiny space.

    Dirt bent down and dug into the snow and found not stone, but grass. Flattened, yellow grass with long, thin stalks and ragged tufts on the end. He took three steps sideways, which got snow up under the hem of his pants and into his shoes, and tried digging again. No stone. No ruins. He¡¯d landed nowhere. Right in the middle of nowhere, with nothing around but snow.

    ¡°Home? Can you hear me?¡± he asked the fore-arm brace. For a moment, there was no response at all. Nothing happened, until finally, there was a slight tremor. But that was all. Just a tremor. She must be really far away, and he probably couldn¡¯t rely on her for much. Maybe not for anything. But at least she was still connected to this part of herself.

    ¡°You might be too far to hear this, but don¡¯t try to bring me back with root travel until I¡¯ve had a chance to look for Socks. Okay? Don¡¯t bring me back yet,¡± he said. The brace gave no response and Dirt sighed.

    So now what? He was just starting to feel the cold now, especially in his wet fingers after digging in the snow. It wasn¡¯t as bad as he suspected, but that was likely because there wasn¡¯t any wind and he was still dry. For now.

    He trudged forward and quickly became annoyed with how hard it was to walk in deep snow. Even grass as tall as he was hadn¡¯t been this tiring, since he could push that apart with his hands.

    After thirty steps, he realized his shoes and pants were already as snow-covered as they were going to get and gave up trying to step in and out of the snow, preferring to kick through it instead. He made a wide circle around his landing spot, looking for any sign of anything at all.

    Dirt scattered the snow off one lump on the ground and it was just a bush, not a corpse. So that was good. There were more of those around, and if they¡¯d all been corpses, he might have been in danger from whatever killed them. But after walking in a complete circle, he was more sure than before that there weren¡¯t any ruins here.

    He couldn¡¯t see very far, but it was farther than he¡¯d thought at first. If he watched carefully through the heavy, falling snow, it opened up enough to let him see a fair distance. Not very well, but enough he was sure there wasn¡¯t a huge building nearby, or any trees.

    Just to be sure, he dug one last time in the snow and found grass, and a single old brown leaf. This time, he put some mana in his fingers and pulled up the grass by the roots, despite the freezing ground not wanting to let go. He dug a bit, hoping he¡¯d find stonework under a thin layer of earth, but he did not. No ruins here.

    So maybe nearby? That was the best he could hope for. And if not ruins, at least somewhere to take shelter. Even just a tree to curl up under and warm himself with an ember. He started walking.

    He went far enough for his starting point to disappear, and kept going. Far enough to wonder if he was even going in a straight line. There was still nothing to see, not anything. Not one tree, no rises of hills or anything else. Just a few lumps that were probably more bushes.

    The snow got thicker, though. It piled up on his hair and shoulders, first an inch, then two. He shook it off from time to time but eventually just ignored it. It was only annoying where it melted and dripped down his face or back, and wiping it off every ten steps wouldn¡¯t help.

    The snow that had been up to his knees deepened inch by inch as well. Slower than it stacked up on top of him, since it was probably packing down the more there was on the ground, but still it rose.

    By the time it was waist deep, he wasn¡¯t sure how far he¡¯d come. The light came from everywhere and nowhere, no shadows. He couldn¡¯t guess where the sun was. If he looked back, the trail he made seemed straight, but was it really? How long until he actually found something?

    There, off to his left, was a small hill that he hadn¡¯t noticed before. A big snow-covered lump the size of a barn, highlighted by pale gray that blended into the snow until he looked closely. What was that? He looked around, wondering if there were others.

    It wasn¡¯t that close, though, and his toes were getting unacceptably cold. That hill thing could wait, since it didn¡¯t look like a building. Dirt did his best to stomp out an open area where he could get the snow off his legs, which was harder than it looked. The snow only packed down so far, and it tended to collapse in on itself.

    When Dirt turned again to look at whatever that big lump was, it had gotten closer. He was sure it was something worthy of his attention now. All white, with only a few highlights of pale gray where the snow hadn¡¯t yet fallen. But that seemed odd, so what was it? The real shape of it was almost impossible to make out. Just lumpy white atop dashes of pale gray, and there near the ground a bit of dark. It moved, lifting slightly to creep one step closer.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    He laughed. ¡°Socks!¡± he shouted, running over. Then with his mind he said, ¡°You almost snuck up on me. If you¡¯d only had a little more snow on you, you would¡¯ve gotten me.¡±

    The pup stopped hiding his mind and stood to full height. He shook off the snow that had accumulated atop his fur, which had the effect of looking like he was materializing out of nothing. -I thought you would spot my nose or eyes first, so I kept my nose in the snow and my eyes closed.-

    Dirt sent the mental image of exactly what he¡¯d seen, which gratified the pup. He was better camouflaged than he¡¯d thought.

    ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± asked Dirt. ¡°Because I¡¯m sorry I startled you and sent us here.¡±

    -I might have been mad if you hadn¡¯t followed me. Get on. Let¡¯s go find a place to rest and get you warm.-

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you cold?¡± asked Dirt.

    --No, not at all. My fur is thick. I like it. Now get on.-

    ¡°But you¡¯re covered in snow.¡±

    -So are you.-

    Well, that was true. Dirt took a little breath of mana and jumped up, where he cleared the snow off his usual spot. He lay down and dug his fingers in, relieved at the warmth he found buried in the fur. His toes still ached, though. He¡¯d need to get his shoes off and warm them up before long.

    Socks moved at a run, which surprised Dirt until he noticed the pup was looking with ghost sight instead of his eyes. There was still snow in that world of gray shadows, but it did nothing to impede the pup¡¯s vision. It was almost transparent, shimmering and faint enough to see the flattened grass underneath.

    They were indeed a long way from anywhere. Socks had to widen his ghost sight far enough that it gave Dirt a secondhand headache, but there was nothing to see. Just flat, everywhere, although they found a slow-moving river that was frozen over. Dirt might have noticed the taller lumps alongside it where the grass had grown thicker, but that was the only indication of its existence.

    The ice was thin, and Socks cracked it with a heavy paw to drink his fill. Dirt slid down to do the same and immediately regretted it. He was soaking wet now from all the melting snow and dunking his face in ice-temperature water didn¡¯t help. But maybe it was for the best. Home might not be able to give them food or water right now. He¡¯d have to find out later.

    -We are not lost. I never get lost. But we are very far away. Here, look,- said Socks. He was thinking about his direction sense, focusing on it so Dirt got the idea. Neither of them knew how to express the distance, neither physically nor in days of travel, but the distance between here and Mother¡¯s den was far, far greater than they had ever travelled before. It seemed a dizzying distance, an impossible length of ground to cover.

    -Father landed even farther away than this. But he was close enough that he could talk to me,- said Socks. -That old transporter is broken and sent us to random places. He didn¡¯t know it was still functional. He did not think we would follow him.-

    ¡°You could have figured out how to use it on your own, I bet,¡± said Dirt.

    -Maybe, but we didn¡¯t,- said Socks. -Father thought it was funny. He will talk to me later.-

    ¡°Are we going to meet up with him?¡± asked Dirt.

    Socks replied with a mental image of his direction sense, this time indicating how far away Father was. Dirt took that to mean ¡®probably not.¡¯

    -So what have you been doing with the trees the last few days, other than getting carried off by the wind?- asked Socks.

    Dirt said, ¡°You first.¡±

    Socks grumbled in feigned annoyance.

    Dirt played along by patting his fur and sending him a puff of affection. ¡°Come on, you said you weren¡¯t mad at me.¡±

    -Fine, but you will think it is boring. Father said I was getting influenced by you too much after you found the magic primer. He said that wolves do not do magic that way, and we don¡¯t have to, and all those little lines and drawings aren¡¯t real in the first place. That¡¯s a human thing, even if it works when I try it. He made me try standing on one paw. A front paw.-

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you¡­ hmm. Now that I think about it, your body isn¡¯t really designed for that, is it? So can you do it?¡±

    -No. But Father says if I can learn how, then I¡¯ll just be one step away from changing my shape.-

    ¡°Wolves can change their shape?¡± said Dirt, almost shouting with his mental voice. ¡°Into what?¡±

    -Into whatever we want. But only for a little while because we get tired. Father showed us by turning into a bear.-

    ¡°A big one?¡±

    -Yes.-

    ¡°Can he turn into a small one?¡±

    -Why would he want to?-

    ¡°I¡¯m asking if you can learn to turn into something human sized, obviously,¡± said Dirt.

    Socks huffed his amusement and changed the topic, which excited Dirt terribly. If Socks was being coy, then the answer was yes and they both knew it. The rest of what Father taught him was things about hunting¡ªpack strategies, now that there were enough pups together to learn, and clever details about using scenery and their natural coloring to hide. Socks had been trying that with the snow, in fact, and almost pulled it off.

    The hunting stuff was more interesting than Socks thought, but Dirt kept getting distracted by his own imagination. If Socks could turn human size, then he wouldn¡¯t scare anyone the next time they found humans. And he would be easier to feed. And if he could stay that size all night, then he could learn what it¡¯s like to sleep in a bed. And what if he could turn into human shape, not just a different animal? What would he look like?

    Each time Dirt¡¯s mind wandered, he expected Socks to interrupt him and confirm or deny it, but the pup just stayed coy and let Dirt¡¯s mind wander. In fact, Socks was probably letting him do it so he¡¯d have more ideas to try once he figured out the trick.

    Then it was Dirt¡¯s turn to explain what he¡¯d been up to, but there wasn¡¯t much else to say without giving away the raised city, and he didn¡¯t want to do that because it might give away his villa, and if Socks learned about that, then he¡¯d be able to pry up the secret of the hot bath. So Dirt mostly talked about the schola and the texts there and what he¡¯d read. And all the golden stuff the trees had collected.

    Socks had far less trouble jogging through the deepening snow than Dirt did, and thank Grace, the storm passed before night fell, which pushed the horizon back out to a reasonable distance. The landscape remained flat, though, with a few solitary hills here and there.

    Night fell before they found any shelter and as tempting as the bright, silvery moonlight shining through the breaking clouds was, Socks didn¡¯t want to risk Dirt freezing to death by going any farther.

    He grabbed Dirt with his mind and rolled out from under him, flattening the snow in a small area to make something like a camp.

    -We need to dry your clothes. Take them off,- said Socks, rolling back slightly to show how poofy the fur on his stomach was.

    Dirt nodded and stripped. Socks held each piece of clothing in the air with his mind while Dirt snuggled into his fur, back first so he could see. He made hot embers that circled around his clothes to slowly dry them out. And surprisingly, the still night air around them held the heat better than they expected. The flattened snow turned icy and didn¡¯t melt, and Socks was big enough to act as a little embankment for the warm air to stay in. Both of them found it satisfying; not that the big pup would have gotten cold, but there was something to be said for a warm belly.

    I SEE YOUR PET FOLLOWED YOU, said Father, his voice rumbling in their minds like thunder. Dirt grinned and Socks sent back a wordless mental shout of affection. I SUPPOSE YOU ARE NOT GOING TO THE DESERT AFTER ALL. GO HERE AND KILL EVERYTHING. AND AFTER THAT, GO HERE. THERE IS SOMETHING THERE FOR DIRT. I WAS WAITING UNTIL HE WAS GROWN TO TELL HIM ABOUT IT, BUT IT¡¯S ON THE WAY. AND IF YOU WANT TO, YOU CAN FIND HUMANS HERE AND HERE AND HERE. FINALLY, YOU CAN MEET TWO OF YOUR RELATIVES AND THEIR PUPS HERE. THEY WILL BE PLEASED TO MEET YOU, IF YOU DO NOT STAY LONG.

    Father sent impressions of each location in direction-sense, which Socks took care to remember.

    CAUSE HAVOC. DIG HARROWS IN THE EARTH. TURN RIVERS FROM THEIR COURSES. LEAVE FIELDS OF BONES BEHIND YOU. EXPLORE AND RETURN WITH EXPERIENCE, MY SON.

    And that was all. Father said nothing further. Socks missed him already and sniffed his shoulder where the faintest hint of Father¡¯s scent remained.

    Dirt just kept the embers going until his clothes were dry. There was nothing wrong with Socks regretting not getting more time with Father, so Dirt didn¡¯t try to talk him out of it. And with nothing more to say, they waited until Dirt¡¯s clothes were dry and drifted off to the land of dreams. Tomorrow, they¡¯d go find out what Father wanted them to kill.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 15

    Deep in the night, the wind blew and piled snow up against Socks¡¯ back. It tossed flakes by the sack-full right over the top of him that swirled until they found Dirt, doing his best to hide inside Socks¡¯ fur. It found his face and stuck on his nose, waking him up countless times during the night.

    Even though he¡¯d gotten dressed again before sleeping, the icy ground was too cold for him to lie on, and lying on top of Socks wouldn¡¯t work in this weather either. If only Dirt had managed to bring his backpack, he might have something to lie on, or even just sit; but there¡¯d been no time.

    Morning came slowly, with Dirt waking early and not wanting to move because he was already cold where he was. He kept sniffling, which made him nervous. Yesterday, he¡¯d thought it happened because he inhaled snow and it melted and dripped out, but that wasn¡¯t happening here. He was leaking water. Was that normal?

    The snow had piled up around him, huddled in a ball as he was, and the first thing he did once he was awake enough was push the snow away with his mind and summon an ember to warm back up. Hunger remained his most steady companion through the rest of the twilight. Fortunately, the sniffling stopped once the air warmed up.

    Socks woke late, perfectly rested and in good spirits. He reached around and licked Dirt, then said, -Oops, sorry, that will make you cold.-

    ¡°If you only do it a little it¡¯s fine,¡± said Dirt. The pup¡¯s tongue had been surprisingly warm, actually. The thin layer of saliva, a little less so.

    -No, I must take good care of you, or you will freeze. You had a bad night, didn¡¯t you?-

    ¡°Yeah, the snow kept waking me up. It kept blowing over you and swishing down where I was,¡± said Dirt.

    Socks made as if to lick him again, or at least nuzzle him with his snout, but thought better of it. He still had snow all over him. -Well, are your clothes still dry?-

    ¡°Dry enough, I guess.¡±

    Socks raised his head and looked around. There wasn¡¯t much to see, though. Just flat fields of snow. -So when did you learn to move things with your mind?-

    ¡°Just a couple days ago. I haven¡¯t even had a lot of time to practice.¡±

    -I wonder if you¡¯re the first human to ever do that.-

    ¡°Probably not, but I¡¯m not sure how someone else would have figured it out. I only did because I watched you so much. I was just playing around with a spell when I thought of it.¡±

    -When we¡¯re not running, we¡¯ll have to think of some games to play, now that you can do it too,-- said Socks, his mind already rolling to come up with ideas.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be way better at it. At first, anyway!¡± said Dirt, implying a challenge.

    Socks looked back to give him a disbelieving glance with one eye, then snorted. Dirt grinned.

    There was a pause, so Dirt asked aloud, ¡°Home, can you make me any sap? Or are you too far away?¡± Several breaths later, the brace trembled slightly. Just a few tremors and that was all. So that was a no.

    -Did you not eat much yesterday?- asked Socks.

    ¡°Not really. I had some sap in the morning, before the trees sent me over. That was a really long day,¡± said Dirt.

    -Well, stand up so I can shake the snow off. Then let¡¯s find you some food along the way.-

    ¡°Where are we aiming for first?¡±

    -The place Father said to kill everything.-

    ¡°I thought so. You know I won¡¯t be able to use the staff, right? Just my knife. So we¡¯ll have to be careful.¡±

    -I know.-

    Dirt stood up and trudged a short distance away through the snow, which was up to his waist now.

    Socks rose lumbering to his feet, clumps of snow bigger than Dirt was falling away and hitting the ground with a thump. The big pup shook from nose to tail and flung off all the rest, sending some of it flying quite a distance. Then he wagged his tail, pleased with himself.

    Dirt nodded appreciatively and said, ¡°It looks like that works better with snow than water.¡±

    -I can fling the water off, too,- said Socks.

    ¡°But not as well.¡±

    -I don¡¯t get wet on my skin.-

    ¡°I do when I sit on you.¡±

    -Only if you were already wet.-

    Dirt pondered that for a moment. Was that right? They always got wet at the same time.

    Socks examined his harness, making sure the flaps were closed and everything was in good order. He pulled this way and that, adjusting it into just the right position. Then he surprised Dirt by grabbing him and lifting him up for a lick. -Do you want to ride curled up in one of the pockets? I bet you could fit.-

    ¡°Maybe if I get too cold. But I like my spot.¡±

    -Me too. It feels weird not having you there since I¡¯m so used to it. When I was with Father and my siblings I kept feeling like I dropped something.-

    The pup deposited Dirt on his back and Dirt lay down and snuggled in for a run. The clouds were breaking up, making the landscape an uncanny contrast. Unbroken, perfectly flat white ground as far as he could see, even from up here, ending in a horizon so flat he could¡¯ve drawn it with a ruler. The sky made a startling contrast, even just the pale whitish-blue of the low horizon. Above, the clouds had very little gray in them, making it look like clumps of snow still hung overhead waiting to fall.

    -Keep an eye out for birds. I¡¯ll let you know if I smell anything else worth hunting.-

    Socks left at a good run, then picked it up bit by bit until Dirt said the wind was getting too cold. Then he slowed slightly, and that was the pace. Dirt mostly lay there, enjoying the warmth and the smell of the pup¡¯s fur. He watched the land and sky out of the corner of his eye, but there wasn¡¯t much to see and he found himself nodding off.

    When he woke a short time later, they were going much faster and the snow was almost blinding beneath the sun. Socks had figured out he could shape his mental shield around himself and direct the air away from Dirt. He even put a wedge shape in front to toss away the top layer of snow, making it easier to run in. Looking back, Dirt found a long furrow, with the snow disturbed ten paces to either side and a trail of big paw prints coming down the middle.

    With absolutely nothing to look at, they had plenty of time for mental games. Riddles where the purpose was to pry the answer out of the other¡¯s mind instead of solving them. Imagination games where they sent an image back and forth with a single modification each time. Chatting, joking, and so on.

    Dirt spent most of the morning laying on his back, since without much wind, the sun helped keep the cold away and he didn¡¯t need to hunker down. He spotted the bird before Socks did, because it was coming up from behind, way up in the sky.

    Just a black spot at first, which Dirt watched eagerly as it grew bigger and bigger. It was coming right for them, and with any luck, it would fly close enough for Socks to grab, and Dirt could eat it.

    But it kept getting bigger and Dirt realized it wasn¡¯t a regular bird. It was far too large for that, and it was carrying something. Not a gryphon, either, which was the largest flying thing he¡¯d ever seen. This might be even bigger, all black; or so it looked from down here.

    ¡°Hey, Socks, what is that?¡± he asked.

    The pup slid to a stop and looked up, but he couldn¡¯t see as well at a distance and had no answer. They waited until it passed by, not quite overhead, and headed roughly the same direction they¡¯d been going. It came in range of their mind-sight, and its mind was very bird-like, but awfully clever. It lacked that ¡®almost smart enough¡¯ quality the gryphons had, its thoughts complex and colorful. It was probably as smart as Dirt was.

    It saw them with perfect clarity despite the distance, and it knew what a wolf was. Once it was confident that Socks was watching it, it cycled its thoughts between several images of nests, each in different directions and found in different scenery.

    -It doesn¡¯t want me to know where it¡¯s going,- said Socks. -It must be going home to eat.-

    ¡°Can we chase it?¡± asked Dirt, hunger gnawing at him. He really needed to learn how to make his own sap.

    As if in reply, the bird angled sharply in a different direction, its huge black form cutting the air like an enormous knife. It glided low to the ground and flapped hard, sending it racing forward.

    -Want to? I think whatever it was carrying is alive. I didn¡¯t get a good look at its mind because it was too far. But maybe it¡¯s food and we can steal it.-

    ¡°Well, we haven¡¯t seen anything else to eat. Let¡¯s go!¡±

    Dirt rolled to his stomach and grabbed onto the harness, so at least he wouldn¡¯t pull Socks¡¯ fur if he was about to get tossed.

    The pup raced forward with a surge of mana, so fast that Dirt¡¯s feet floated in the air until he got himself back under control. Socks kept the wedge-shaped wall of force in front of him, and it seemed that made running easier. For reasons neither of them were sure about, it kept the air from pushing as hard against him.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    The bird certainly didn¡¯t make itself easy prey. Flying low was almost enough to lose them¡ªif they¡¯d been just a bit slower, it would have escaped out of view over the horizon. Even so, Socks had a hard time keeping up. It kept turning, hoping to lose them, and flew so low to the ground that it left feather marks in the snow in some places.

    Suddenly Socks stopped and sniffed the air. -I¡¯m going to let it think it got away, and follow by scent. If it stays low, I can follow right to its nest, and if it flies high, you can spot it.-

    ¡°And maybe if it realizes we¡¯re still chasing it after that, it¡¯ll drop its food and we can eat it.¡±

    -You will not want to eat it.-

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    -Because it¡¯s carrying a human female. I can smell her. Young. An adolescent. She is not well.-

    That changed the whole mood of the hunt in an instant. For Dirt, at least. Socks wasn¡¯t too concerned, which was understandable. ¡°Where did it find a human?¡±

    -Father showed us where to find human places, but none of them are close. I wonder.-

    Dirt sent a mental nod and sat up so he could watch the skies, keeping a firm grip on the harness. Humans were pretty far down the list of priorities, but if they found one, they¡¯d have to take her back, wouldn¡¯t they? And maybe she came from somewhere Father didn¡¯t know about, if that was possible.

    Socks waited a bit longer than Dirt thought was necessary, then ran forward again. Not as fast this time, because he had to make sure he didn¡¯t lose the scent, and that also kept him from using the mental shield to block the air. Which made Dirt¡¯s face awfully cold. Dirt changed his mind about keeping a constant eye upward and chose instead to just peer around every now and then to keep his cheeks out of the wind.

    The first scenery came into view. Socks ran past a group of ragged trees with no leaves. The snow melted in the sunlight and dripped down from them like rain, but there was still plenty in the branches. It¡¯d be a few more days until they were bare again. After seeing those trees, they found more. A few pines here, a few tall, bare ones there. And some hills, finally, to break up the landscape. Some dips and curves. With all the snow, though, it was hard to get a sense of what the area looked like normally.

    A row of short mountains came into view, slowly rising from the horizon like a pale bubble as they got closer. Socks lost the scent, but there was no doubt anymore where their prey had ended up.

    It was really just a few large hills, perhaps too small to be called proper mountains. Three or four of them in one clump, all with flat tops of differing heights. Trees grew up and down the sides but left the tops bare.

    -This is where Father told us to go kill everything,- said Socks, taking quick notice of his direction sense.

    ¡°I guess we got lucky, then. We should probably go slow and sneak up on them, but I want to go fast and see if we can save that girl,¡± said Dirt.

    -It¡¯s probably already eating her. I bet it fed her to its young, if it has any.-

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll surprise it mid-meal.¡±

    -Okay. Hold tight.-

    Dirt didn¡¯t need to be told, but he gripped the harness even harder anyway. Dirt filled himself with mana, sending it to strengthen his skin and bones until he needed it for something else. Socks filled himself with mana as well and ran forward in a wild flurry, kicking up snow ten paces in the air behind him.

    They spotted the great bird¡¯s mind at the same time, and it wasn¡¯t alone. There were four more, and from their minds, it seemed none were hatchlings. Socks dashed up the canyon between the two closest flat mountaintops, which was really more of a long, sloping hillside with plenty of open area devoid of trees. He slowed once he realized the ground was all boulders under the snow. He looked with ghost sight to keep from slipping and snapping a leg, and that¡¯s when the birds noticed their approach.

    All five of them flapped and flew upward into view, shrieking at deafening volume. To Dirt¡¯s eyes, they were hideous. They weren¡¯t all black like he¡¯d thought; their feathers were only black at the tips, but lightened to a dingy yellow-gray near their bodies, with bulbous lumps of red flesh around their necks and ankles. Their heads were bare of any feathers at all, showing skin that was the blackest part of them. Their eyes were quick and sharp, with beaks like gryphons. The girl was on the ground somewhere farther in, if she wasn¡¯t in their stomachs already. Probably just one stomach, since any of them looked big enough to eat Dirt whole. Just one wing was longer than Socks¡¯ body, including his tail.

    One shrieked, facing them directly, and Dirt saw a wave of force shoot from its mouth faster than a sling shot. It knocked him clear off Socks¡¯ back and twenty paces back down the boulder-strewn canyon, where he bounced twice before landing against something hard and stopping.

    He picked himself up piece by piece, making sure nothing important was broken. The mana he¡¯d stored up only moments before had saved him, but it had been close. He was almost completely drained of it now. Just enough to strengthen one arm and pull himself out from in between the boulders where he¡¯d landed.

    Socks was more than they could handle, though, at least so far. He ripped all the feathers from the wings of that closest one, yanking so hard with his mind that his body shook, and they almost didn¡¯t come out even then. But they finally tore free and Socks leaped on it and twisted its neck so hard its head came off in his teeth. He spat it out and growled.

    A giant bird dove at him, beak first until the last second when it extended its black claws. A second bird dove in from another angle, and only when Socks jumped away from the first one did Dirt see why. It was a trap.

    Dirt yanked his dagger free and flung it at the second bird, straightening the throw and pushing it faster with his mind. Despite spinning wildly, Dirt scored a lucky hit on its neck near the breast. The dagger sank in past the pommel and Dirt lost sight of it, but it startled the bird enough to disrupt its dive, right for where Socks landed.

    Socks struck it with his mind, using that tree-piercer that Father had shown him. Despite the bird¡¯s bulk, it was flung upward and to the side, but not killed. Punctured and bleeding, but not harmed enough to slow it down. Dirt could feel it¡ªthey used mana to protect themselves.

    The other two birds staggered attacks at Socks, one coming on the tail of the other, but this time Socks was ready for them and jumped out of the way each time. They tried to trip him with their minds, but Dirt had done that way too many times for the pup to keep falling for it.

    Socks picked up a boulder from under the snow and tossed it upward. It struck its target, but the bird just pushed off with its claws and was flung higher, unharmed. The boulder crashed down so hard it shattered.

    The one with Dirt¡¯s dagger in its neck struggled to get airborne again, and perhaps Dirt had done more damage than he thought. The bloody wound made seeing his dagger impossible anymore, so there was no chance of getting it back until the thing died. ¡°I¡¯ll get this one,¡± said Dirt, indicating mentally which one he meant.

    Socks turned his attention back to the other three, two of which were repeating the staggered dives.

    Dirt bounced up the canyon like a bug, filling himself with more mana as he went. The injured bird saw him coming, but it wasn¡¯t expecting the sudden explosion of speed. Dirt planted both feet on a boulder and jumped with all the force the mana would give him, and he shot like an arrow right past Socks and hit it near its injury.

    He grabbed a flap of red, bulbous skin with one hand and poked his fingers into the wound with the other. The bird shrieked and hopped, unable to get its talons high enough to get him off. It reached down with its beak to bite him, but Dirt pushed the sharp tip away and made it bite itself.

    Dirt dug his teeth into the skin around the gash and tore it wider open with his other hand, then reached into the wound. His arm went in all the way to the elbow before he found his dagger.

    Fortunately, he found the hilt end and not the blade. He closed his fingers around it, turned the blade outward, and yanked it out, slicing as he went. The ancient dagger cut a wide gash, slicing through the flesh like it was hardly even there.

    The bird collapsed to the ground, trying to crush him beneath its bulk, but Dirt knew that trick as well from playing with Socks. He dove away and was lucky to land on a hidden boulder big enough for both feet.

    The bird struggled to get back up, largely due to its bulk and the unwieldiness of its wings. Dirt tossed the dagger again and directed it right into the creature¡¯s black eye. He dug his feet in and pushed the dagger with all his mental might. He felt the transferred weight driving him down with such force that his feet started slipping out from under him, but not before the dagger exploded out the other side of the bird¡¯s head. It fell dead.

    Socks was having a bit more trouble with the other three. They¡¯d taken to attacking him all at once, and even though they hadn¡¯t gotten away unscathed, neither had he. They¡¯d managed to get at least one talon past his fur, up near his spine, leaving a spot of blood the size of Dirt¡¯s fist.

    Dirt pulled the dagger back with his mind, then grabbed it out of the air and hopped like a bug over to where Socks was fighting. The pup saw him coming and tossed him high into the air, above even the birds circling for another dive.

    Taking careful aim, Dirt threw the dagger downward toward the back of one¡¯s head. He steered with his mind, but Socks saw it as well and yanked it downward so hard it went right through its target and got lost under the snow.

    Dirt pointed at a different bird and Socks pushed him that direction. Dirt landed on its back, knocking it a bit lower in its flight. He started punching and biting and ripping out feathers, doing all the damage he could with his bare hands and teeth. It wasn¡¯t much, but it probably hurt, because the bird twisted in the air to fling him off.

    Socks saw his chance and grabbed its beak with his mind and twisted its head the other direction. Dirt heard more than one loud pop and they fell to the ground together. It didn¡¯t move after that.

    Fed up, Socks called an enormous swarm of sparks around the remaining one, focusing so intently that he held his breath and stopped moving. It sensed the danger it was in, but it was too late. With a flare of heat that singed the front of Dirt¡¯s hair, Socks enflamed the sparks into a booming inferno. It only burned for a few seconds, but that was enough. The last bird fell, and the pup finished it off by snapping its neck.

    The two of them paused for a moment, both panting hard. Before he forgot, Dirt retrieved his dagger, finding it by the hole it made in the snow.

    -We have plenty to eat now,- said Socks. -We can leave the bodies in the snow until we want to eat them. Cold preserves meat. Father taught me that.-

    The big pup would be smiling if that was a thing wolves did. It had been a great hunt. A long one, over a great distance, with a fight at the end against a new enemy.

    Dirt hopped over and hugged Socks around the snout and patted his forehead. They nuzzled their heads together, despite the hilarious size difference.

    They noticed at the same time¡ªshe was still alive. The faint light of her mind was still glowing, although she was unconscious.

    -Don¡¯t get too excited. She probably won¡¯t last long.-

    ¡°I know. Come on,¡± said Dirt. Socks picked him up and leaped more nimbly across the boulders than he could, and a short distance farther they saw down into the circular-shaped canyon between the flat hills.

    It contained almost no snow, strewn instead with endless heaps of logs and branches, and great quantities of packing material like grasses and old feathers. The whole thing was a nest, one which the giant birds all shared. It was far too large for all of them together, but Dirt supposed his villa was bigger than he needed, so who was he to judge?

    They only found her by scent, since she¡¯d been placed in a little gap that was invisible until they were about to step on it.

    She was dressed far more warmly than Dirt, bundled in thick furs almost from head to toe. They hid her shape so well that if Socks couldn¡¯t smell that she was a girl, Dirt might not have known. She was taller than him, and thicker. Probably at least ¨¨lia¡¯s age.

    The poor girl was injured, too; that much was obvious. The bird had carried her by digging in its talons so she couldn¡¯t wriggle away. Deep puncture wounds on her legs and torso oozed blood, which dripped down through the tangle of branches beneath her and disappeared. Her breathing was raspy and wet and quick.

    -Take her clothes off so I can lick her wounds. Hurry, while she¡¯s still alive,- said Socks. He lifted her gently from the nest and held her in the air, carefully turning her while Dirt struggled to figure out what to untie to get her coat off. Finally, he gave up and just started cutting the cords with his knife and soon enough the front opened, revealing a much thinner undershirt.

    Socks pushed that out of the way himself with his tongue and licked her wounds. There was a bad one on her stomach, deep enough to show purple guts inside. The one up near her shoulder was bloody and deep, but didn¡¯t seem as dangerous. After that, they closed her coat to keep her warm. Her pants were easier to remove, since belts were straightforward, and both legs had been stabbed right through, in the meaty part of the thigh. It was a wonder she hadn¡¯t bled out already.

    After her wounds were closed and starting to heal, Socks lay down and kept her floating in the air. The ground here didn¡¯t look particularly comfortable. Dirt sat down atop the pup¡¯s front paws and surrounded her with embers to warm her back up. Then they waited.

    And waited.

    She lived. The girl opened her dry eyes and didn¡¯t seem to see Socks at all. She saw Dirt, though, and whispered, ¡°Stammi luntanu da m¨¨. S¨° maleditu.¡±

    Dirt grinned. He should have seen that coming. In mild exasperation, he told Socks, ¡°Uh oh. We¡¯re doing this again?¡±

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 16

    Socks wasn¡¯t concerned about her strange language. Mostly he was amused by the fact that she hadn¡¯t spotted him, despite being right there. He said, -I want to hold very still and see how long it takes for her to notice me. You distract her.-

    Dirt schooled his face to keep from grinning. He peeked at her mind and she thought Socks¡¯ legs were part of a building, or something like that. Pillars, maybe. Fuzzy ones. Her thoughts were jumbled and confused, which made sense. She was barely conscious. But even so, all she had to do was turn and look upward to see Socks leaning over her, and she hadn¡¯t yet.

    She seemed to think she was lying on the ground, or maybe on a bed, and not floating in mid-air held up by Socks¡¯ mind. Dirt couldn¡¯t blame her for that. It wasn¡¯t the sort of thing one expected. To keep it going, Dirt made sure all his warming embers stayed out of her field of vision, just in case.

    He smiled kindly and patted her head, then gently pushed a few loose strands of pale brown hair out of her face and back under her soft fur hood.

    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± he asked, in his language.

    She scrunched her face a little, perplexed. ¡°Ch¨¬ avete dettu? Quale si?¡± She shifted restlessly, squinting her eyes in pain. ¡°Ind''¨¨ mi trovu?¡±

    ¡°Hold still,¡± said Dirt gently. ¡°You¡¯re safe now. The birds are dead.¡±

    The young woman squirmed and turned to look upward. Dirt quickly covered her eyes with his hand and said, ¡°Rest. Sleep.¡±

    Socks almost snorted in amusement but stopped himself. That had been close. She¡¯d almost seen him.

    She tried to raise her arm to push his hand away, but it was the arm with the shoulder injured from the bird¡¯s talon and it was still too sore inside, so she gave up.

    ¡°Take it easy. Just relax for a little while. If you want to, you can sleep.¡±

    ¡°Dormi?¡± she said, catching the last word he said. ¡°Cumu possu dorme av¨¤?¡±

    It was almost the same word in his language, which was a relief. Maybe it wouldn¡¯t be so hard to learn to talk with her after all.

    ¡°Dormi, si,¡± he said. ¡°Dormi.¡± Sleep.

    ¡°Siete in periculu s¨¨ site cun m¨¨,¡± she protested, her big brown eyes turning back to him and getting a bit more spark. They held fear. ¡°Per piac¨¨, scappate.¡±

    Her voice was so cracked and dry it was almost a rasp. It probably hurt to even speak, so why wouldn¡¯t she relax? Dirt decided he¡¯d had enough guessing and looked at her mind.

    He found that it wasn¡¯t herself she was worried about--she thought he was in danger from being around her, which was silly. She wanted him to run away before she caused his death somehow. She¡¯d already resigned herself to dying, too, and if there was any one emotion she felt more than the others, it was guilt. He could learn some of her words later, but that was the general idea.

    ¡°Listen,¡± said Dirt, a bit more sternly. Not unfriendly or domineering, he hoped, just sternly. ¡°You need to stop complaining and trying to get up.¡±

    He poked her injuries to help make the point. Each of them, one by one. She squirmed again and he wagged his finger at her. She seemed to resent being scolded by a little boy, even in her state, but she got the idea and relaxed. With an air of consignment to her fate. And Dirt¡¯s fate, she presumed.

    Dirt continued, ¡°You¡¯re warm, and you¡¯re safe. You need to rest. You¡¯ll heal because Socks licked you but that doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re healed yet. So just lie there for a while and get better. You look thirsty. Water?¡± asked Dirt. He made a drinking motion, and the girl nodded slightly.

    She licked her dry, cracked lips. It did no good. Her tongue was too dry. She said, ¡°Acqua¡­¡± which was the same word as Dirt¡¯s language. Water.

    ¡°Aqua,¡± he said. Knowing there were two words he recognized was a bit of a relief. That meant she was descended from his people, and he was still within the old bounds of the Sunset Empire. Which, now that he thought about it, must have been huge. He¡¯d known it was, but not really. It was one thing to know a fact and quite another to experience it.

    She nodded and repeated it. ¡°Acqua, per piac¨¨.¡±

    Dirt smiled and nodded, saying, ¡°Okay, some water coming right up. Now just relax, please.¡±

    She forced a half-smile of eager gratitude but couldn¡¯t very well without cracking her lips more. Poor thing.

    -I¡¯ll lick her lips after she notices me. I didn¡¯t think of those because she wasn¡¯t bleeding there,- said Socks, remaining silent as a statue. He still sounded amused. -I bet she screams when she sees me.-

    ¡°I bet she doesn¡¯t. I bet she doesn¡¯t believe her eyes and ignores you,¡± said Dirt.

    The girl shifted again on her bed of nothing and gave a quiet groan of pain. Dirt glanced at her mind again, and it was her legs that hurt. Socks subtly adjusted his grip to take some of the pressure off, and that helped. She didn¡¯t notice the bed moving, but it reduced her discomfort.

    Dirt watched her for a moment to make sure she wasn¡¯t about to try and get up. She finally closed her eyes and relaxed in a more convincing manner. Glancing at her mind, she was sure she¡¯d die before she opened them again. She still felt bad for Dirt, even while wondering where he¡¯d come from. She kept thinking of the giant birds, expecting them to come back. And remembering things shaped like humans, but with horrible animal faces, each different. She pushed those from her mind too fast for him to see what they were.

    Now that she wasn¡¯t looking, he picked up some snow with his mind to keep from freezing his fingers. He gathered a respectable ball of it while Socks watched, impressed at Dirt¡¯s control, and put an ember in the middle to melt it. To his dismay, it melted down to about one tenth of its prior size. That didn¡¯t seem right. Snow was ten times more poofy than water?

    Well, it was a start. He wasn¡¯t trying to drown her. Now, how to get it into her mouth? She¡¯d probably be concerned if he made it float in front of her face. He pulled his arm brace off, and decided it looked enough like a cup. He put the water inside and held the thinner end closed with his mind.

    Dirt lifted the girl¡¯s head slightly and slowly poured the water across her parched lips. She let it trickle in without complaint, understanding the need to drink it slowly. He looked at her mind again, and while he couldn¡¯t understand any of the words racing through it, he saw enough to know what she was thinking of. She was just beginning to realize that she was warm, and so was the water. But it was so bright! Where was she, and why wasn¡¯t she dead yet?

    She opened her eyes and squinted against the brightness of the sky. Her mind struggled to make sense of the giant dark shadow over her, until she saw the pup¡¯s eyes. Terror filled her, but she shut her eyes again and made no sound. Her face scrunched up and her chest shook, and Dirt realized she was about to cry. Her courage had failed her.

    He patted her head and said, ¡°There, there, it¡¯s okay. Nothing¡¯s going to happen. He¡¯s friendly. You don¡¯t even know what you were looking at, do you? Here, drink a little more water.¡±

    When he held the cup to her lips, she resisted and tried to speak, but Dirt tightened his grip and poured anyway. He didn¡¯t stop until she finished the cup.

    Once he pulled it away, she shook her head and said, ¡°Morte. Era a morte. Aghju vistu l''ochji di a morte in u celu. H¨¨ qu¨¬ per noi.¡±

    From her thoughts, it seemed she was sure she was about to be carried off into the world of the dead any second now. She had a mental image of how that would happen: giant fingers grabbing her and pulling her spirit into the ground, leaving her dead body behind. Her imagination was taking Socks¡¯ eyes and filling in a giant spirit in the shape of a man, rising out of the ground to collect her soul.

    Well, now Dirt was starting to feel bad. It had been a funny thought, tricking her and seeing what happened, but it wasn¡¯t going well.

    -I guess you were closer to correct than I was,- said Socks. He leaned down and licked the girl¡¯s face, startling her terribly.

    When he stopped and pulled back up, her eyes focused and she finally realized what she was looking at. She screamed, and it was a hopeless, miserable sound that tugged painfully at Dirt¡¯s heart.

    Socks huffed and pushed her mind, forcing her to sleep. Then he gave Dirt a little lick and said, --Don¡¯t feel bad. There is no right way for a human to see me for the first time. It would have gone poorly no matter what we did. At least this was kind of fun.-

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s a good point.¡±

    -And if she gets mad at us, we will remind her that we killed the birds and saved her life, and then she will stop.-

    Dirt and Socks watched her sleep for a moment. Socks had only given her a nudge, and her natural exhaustion had done the rest. The stress and pain faded from her countenance as she sank deeper and deeper into the dream, and soon her face relaxed into a relieved peace.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to wake her up and give her more water before too long. She didn¡¯t drink enough.¡±

    -Melt this for me. I want some now,- said Socks. He gathered a pile of snow as tall as Dirt with his mind and rolled it into a ball. Dirt obliged him and melted it, resulting again in a disappointing amount of water. But it was enough, and after Socks drank what he wanted there was plenty left for Dirt to finish off.

    -Now let¡¯s go have some food. I know you¡¯re hungry and you¡¯ve waited long enough.-

    ¡°First, I think I¡¯m going to try talking to the wind. Maybe I can figure out how to ask for her language. It shouldn¡¯t take long if it works, and I want to be able to talk to her when she wakes up.¡±

    Socks huffed and gave Dirt a mean look, saying, -I do not like you talking to the wind.-

    Dirt reached up to pat him on the nose and said, ¡°Want to come watch? You can grab me if something happens.¡±

    -No. You can try it if you want. I will go by the birds and take your knife and cut them up. We can pack the meat in the snow and preserve it. Then I¡¯ll eat some. And then you should be done and come eat some, too. If you take too long, I will stop you. We will wake her up then.-

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll stay where you can see me.¡±

    Socks gave him one last little lick, which counted for agreement. Then he pulled Dirt¡¯s knife right out of its sheathe and started trudging up the side of the enormous nest.

    Dirt put some mana in his legs and jumped like a grasshopper back out of the basin. He made his way up to the flat top of one of the hills that overlooked the battle scene, which had the only color from horizon to horizon. Broad splashes of blood, black feathers everywhere, snow churned to reveal the brown rocks beneath. It looked every bit as messy as the fight had been. And, of course, the ruined bodies of the giant birds. They looked even larger now than they had in life, with their wings all splayed out and broken.

    The plateau wasn¡¯t hiding anything dangerous. Not boulders to stumble between. Just snow up to his waist and flat ground beneath. He went to the edge where Socks could still see him, turned his face to the sky, and opened his mind sight as wide as it would go. The pup¡¯s mind burned bright as ever, growing day by day as fast as his body did. And there was the young woman¡¯s, much dimmer. That one was quiet. She hadn¡¯t started dreaming yet.

    And not much else. Dirt knew there were plants around, buried under the snow. But it seemed lots of them were dead and the seeds that would grow in the spring were so pale and tiny they may as well have been sleeping bugs. He watched for elemental minds, but the air was too still today. The storm had passed and left the skies quiet and serene.

    Well, there was one last thing to try. Dirt turned his mind inward to his mana body and drew the great elemental¡¯s name in the world of magic. Or, rather, as close to it as he could remember. If one of her kind saw it, Dirt supposed they¡¯d be smart enough to figure out what was going on.

    Then he waited, trying his best to hold her name together. Part of it faded and had to be restored, and they didn¡¯t look the same the second time. Truthfully, it was a mess. Drawing the whole name perfectly might be beyond him. But finally, something saw him.

    Sigils flared into being in the world of magic, unpowered ones meant to communicate. It was a hello, but with a different set of beginning points than the air elementals used. Well, Dirt could do this. He drew his responses, filling in with the shape of himself as the air perceived him to indicate what he was.

    The other being stumbled over his answers, unsure what it was being told, and gave up. Its words faded quickly leaving Dirt standing there confused. He came to himself and shook his head. Opening his eyes, all he saw was Socks starting to butcher the nearest bird, and that lost girl hovering near him. Not even another mind had approached.

    Or¡­ no, one had. A mind he hadn¡¯t noticed the first time, or which hadn¡¯t been there before. Something large and quiet, so broad and dim Dirt had mistaken the wide light it cast for the background itself. It had no center and what Dirt could see from its thoughts were patience and certainty. Indeed, there was so little going on in its mind that he wondered if it was asleep.

    Now there was a thought. Something with a mind as large as Father¡¯s, or perhaps even larger, sleeping somewhere nearby? Curiosity kept him watching, but the longer he did, the more he started to wonder if there really wasn¡¯t anything there and he was imagining things. One thing was sure, though¡ªhe didn¡¯t want to wake it up.

    Unless it was already awake? Hadn¡¯t he just communicated with it in the world of magic? How could something be awake and asleep at the same time?

    ¡°Socks, do you see this?¡± he asked. He sent Socks the mental image he had, and it got the pup¡¯s attention.

    Socks perked his ears up, tilting his head slightly with curiosity. Even with the two of them they couldn¡¯t figure it out. That great mind was probably real, and if so, it had thoughts in it. They just weren¡¯t moving.

    -I have no idea. You said you talked to it with magic?- said Socks.

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I did. Wait. How about this. Can you watch for a moment and I¡¯ll try again?¡± said Dirt. ¡°Let¡¯s see if it¡¯s the same thing.¡±

    -Okay.- said Socks. He sniffed the air and didn¡¯t find anything out of the ordinary. -Go ahead.-

    Dirt nodded and turned his gaze back to his mana vessel. He cycled a bit of mana to prepare himself and tried again. Instead of trying the wind¡¯s name again, he started with something the wind had taken up easily to begin the dance: motion. He drew the sigil and waited, holding it steady and bright, while being careful not to put any mana in and make it do something. Around it, he left open spaces for the other being to fill in.

    No response. He drew more. Motion, motion from nothing, motion from here to there, transformative motion.

    Just as he was about to give up, a new sigil appeared in the midst of his own. Ceasing motion. That was all. It was planted in the perfect spot to negate all the rest, signifying motion that arose and vanished without having any effect. Dirt¡¯s whole message collapsed, and the other being drew nothing further.

    Dirt sighed and gave up. He blinked against the bright sunlight as his mental focus returned to the physical world. ¡°So did you see anything?¡±

    -I think I know what you found. An earth elemental.-

    ¡°Oh. Well, no wonder it doesn¡¯t want to talk. All the earth does is just sit there,¡± said Dirt, annoyed. It should at least have been polite and talked a bit. ¡°How does the ground even have elementals? What forces do they need to monitor and facilitate?¡±

    -Mother never told me about those. She only mentioned a few elementals and we never tried to talk to one. But sometimes the ground moves, and it¡¯s called an earthquake. And maybe they do other things. Maybe they have to make sure the ground stays together. I don¡¯t know.-

    ¡°Hopefully the trees can tell me more about them after we get back.¡±

    -Probably. Trees live in the ground, after all.-

    Dirt hopped over the edge and bounced down the hillside, hopping from boulder to boulder and sliding where he could. He made his way across the messy battlefield, carefully stepping around the blood and viscera to keep his pants from getting any dirtier. He made his way to where the girl was, a short distance from Socks. She still rested motionlessly except the gentle rising and falling of her breathing.

    Socks tossed Dirt a nice chunk of pale meat, which Dirt turned over in his hands before taking a bite. Too bad they had no salt. Without any salt or spices, most things were still better raw.

    -You are getting spoiled,- said Socks, teasing him.

    ¡°I am getting civilized,¡± said Dirt. He dug in with relish. It tasted milder than some of the other bird meat he¡¯d had, but wasn¡¯t as soft. Not quite stringy or tough, but tougher than he¡¯d expected. Maybe in a bit, he¡¯d try some of the blood and see how it compared to other things.

    Waving the knife through the air, Socks resumed cutting whatever meat he could from the birds, and in the process, dug his snout in to eat anything he found tasty. The hearts were good, and he liked the livers. Intestines less so, unless he was particularly hungry. Dirt didn¡¯t like those either. Too hard to chew.

    Socks lifted a slab of meat longer than Dirt was tall, probably the entire breast. He tossed it onto a clean spot of snow and said, -Can you cover that up while I keep cutting?-

    Dirt nodded and scarfed down the rest of the meat he was holding. Then he braced his feet and started tossing as much snow as he could pick up at once. He made a big scoop with his mental fingers and lifted more snow than his arms would have been able to handle, but bracing his feet and back solidly kept the recoil weight from knocking him down.

    He threw clump after clump, and each time it sent a poof of powdery snow floating on the air that stuck to his face and made him shiver. Finally Dirt had tossed enough to cover it in a thick layer. The effort left him panting and the muscles in his back were tight. He turned back to Socks, groaning at the soreness gathering in his muscles. That was more work than it looked like. His body wasn¡¯t even moving.

    Dirt stretched with a groan and turned to watch Socks continue his butchering. He sniffled and realized he was leaking water out his nose again. That had to be normal, right? Something that happened in the cold? He looked at the girl to see if she was doing it too, and she was watching him.

    The girl was awake, her face dripping wet and bright red. The rest of her clothing was coated in a layer of powder snow. Dirt kicked himself mentally, realizing he¡¯d been the one to wake her up.

    She didn¡¯t speak. Now that she had his attention, she raised her good arm and made the same drinking motion he¡¯d done before. Dirt nodded and picked up a bunch of snow, then melted it with an ember.

    After that, he floated it over to her face and let her drink it right out of the air. No point hiding anything now, after all. She tilted her head and shifted her eyes downward, looking at the nothing she was lying on. Then she pointedly looked back at Dirt. Are you holding me up, she seemed to be asking.

    Dirt shook his head and pointed at Socks.

    She glanced back at the giant pup, and he hopped twice through the snow to land nearby and licked the melted water off her face. She shivered again, but a shy smile appeared on her face.

    -She is handling this better now,- said Socks.

    Dirt snorted in amusement and replied, ¡°It probably helps that she can¡¯t run away. But you¡¯re right.¡±

    -Are you going to let her find out you can see her mind? Since she knows you can do magic already,- asked Socks.

    Dirt pondered that for a moment and replied, ¡°Not yet. I¡¯d still have to learn her language for that to do much good. Maybe we¡¯ll find an air elemental later on.¡±

    Socks tossed a slice of flesh over and Dirt caught it and showed her. He held it to her lips, but she went a little pale and shook her head.

    Wasn¡¯t she hungry? Dirt looked at her mind and gathered that she thought raw meat would make her sick. He chuckled at that. Sick was the least of her worries. He caught her eyes and took a bite himself, then nodded and held it back toward her mouth. She gingerly took a nibble, managing to hold down the revulsion he saw on her face. Oh well. She¡¯d learn.

    When it didn¡¯t kill her, she took another bite, and another, and by the end she was eating it as pleasantly as if it were bread.

    -I guess our next stop is some of the human places around until we find out where she belongs, so we can give her back.-

    ¡°Yep. I wonder how she ended up like this.¡±

    -I suppose we¡¯ll find out,- said Socks. Then he went back to butchering.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 17

    The sunlight failed to provide any warmth, except where it fell long and undisturbed on Dirt¡¯s clothing, if he held still. That was not enough, and he found himself wishing those dead birds had fur so he could wear that. His clothing was too thin.

    The girl was doing well and looked more relaxed now. She¡¯d made peace with hovering in the air and although her meal of raw meat wasn¡¯t sitting well in her stomach, the water Dirt gave her had already caused a positive change. Her cheeks and lips remained pale from having lost too much blood, but when he looked at her mind, she could feel the water helping.

    In fact, right now, she was thinking of other ways to melt water. She¡¯d started out on her travels eating snow, but it took a lot of snow and made her too cold. Perhaps if she had a big dark cloth, it would get hot in the sun and melt snow that would then drip into a pan? If she had a pan. But if she had a pan, then she could light a fire and melt it in that, but to light a fire she¡¯d need¡­ Her throat was dry again.

    She turned her head to catch Dirt¡¯s eye, then looked deliberately at some snow. She tried bringing her good arm up to mimic drinking again, but it caused twinges of pain in her torso and she let it rest, hoping Dirt would just figure it out.

    Well, he did, because he could see her thoughts. Dirt nodded and gathered another big ball of snow and melted it down for her, then let it trickle into her mouth while she slowly drank.

    The blood was still wet and chilly in places, its moisture held in by her thick fur clothing, and usually in a spot where her clothes had rents or holes in it. Truthfully, she looked awfully ragged, and the blood was probably going to be hard to wash out. The cloth parts of her clothing could be soaked in cool water to get the blood out, but what about the fur? That might not be a problem, but it was hard to say.

    Cleanliness aside, with that many holes, her furs probably did about as much good as Dirt¡¯s linen. Too bad the trees hadn¡¯t had time to show him how they¡¯d made their cloth. Or taught him to ask the elementals for language.

    Socks was having a great time slicing up the corpses, though, and he was getting better at it as he went. There was only a short rest before the next piece was ready, and even shorter for the piece after that. From that point on, Socks sliced the meat away faster than Dirt could cover it.

    After tossing a prodigious amount of snow, Dirt realized he was sweating. Lifting so much with his mind was still hard work, even if he did it in small chunks now instead of big ones. It was strange¡ªhe felt warm under his armpits and his legs were fine, but the air chilled the sweat on his brow and his back where his shirt was damp.

    Finally it was done, and Socks helped cover the rest of the meat. Afterward Dirt sighed and stretched, trying to absorb as much sunlight as he could against the cold, which was already starting to seep in through his sweaty shirt. Socks made him and the girl eat another helping of pale bird flesh, more than they were strictly interested in, because who knew when they¡¯d eat again? They couldn¡¯t just carry the meat around until tomorrow. It would go bad. But it would be here, frozen, if they wanted to come back another time.

    Socks stepped down the slope a bit to admire his handiwork and take in the stench of butchery that sat heavily on the still air. They had truly made a mess, an enormous one that went from mountainside to mountainside and covered the ground in blood and viscera and black feathers. The pup liked the smell, and Dirt had learned to appreciate it from him, but the girl preferred the wind to be blowing in the other direction. After a few moments of self-pride, it was time to go.

    ¡°I have one more thing first. Hold on for a moment,¡± said Dirt.

    -What is it?-

    ¡°I want a staff, so I¡¯m going to make one while there¡¯s some wood around. They¡¯re useful, and Home can¡¯t manage it right now because we¡¯re too far away.¡± Dirt stumbled his way back up the mountainside and into the nest, where he dug for a likely chunk of wood to use.

    He found one the right weight and gathered a few good puffs of mana, then spoke the magic into the hidden world and commanded the wood to transform. Despite being dry and dead and old, it creaked and cracked and slowly responded. Straighten, he told it, and condense. He left it a hand¡¯s length shorter than he was, then ended the spell.

    Dirt swung it a few times, thumping through the snow and smacking it against exposed branches. It seemed solid enough. He stuck it in Socks¡¯ harness.

    He and Socks both regarded the young woman, who kept thinking the same thing over and over: H¨¨ un diu? Deve esse un diu.

    Dirt recognized one word, diu, as being similar to his word for ¡®god¡¯. She had a sense of reverent awe, which combatted an undeniable sense of dread within her. Her thoughts about Dirt¡¯s potential godhood were complicated and rapid, and she couldn¡¯t decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he might be one. The dread, he gathered, seemed to be related to an impending disaster that she had either avoided or caused. She wasn¡¯t sure herself.

    ¡°Why does she think I might be a god, but not you?¡± Dirt asked Socks.

    -Aren¡¯t gods all human shaped?-

    ¡°Are they?¡±

    -All the ones you showed me are. But you better not say anything, if you don¡¯t want her to think you are one. If she finds out you can read her mind you¡¯ll never convince her otherwise.-

    ¡°That¡¯s probably true. I think I¡¯m just going to let her think she¡¯s really good at body language.¡±

    Socks dropped his jaw open and panted, eyes sparkling with amusement. He looked at the girl, then back at Dirt. -Me too.-

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m ready to go if you are.¡±

    -Should I let her stand up and move around a bit first?-

    ¡°No, not yet. I think she¡¯s still too sore. Eventually she¡¯s going to have to pee and we can let her walk then,¡± said Dirt. He inhaled a puff of mana and jumped up onto Socks¡¯ back, then wondered where they were going to put the girl.

    Socks had it all figured out, though. He lifted the young woman and lay her down on his back, with her head resting where Dirt usually sat. -Pat her head and make sure she¡¯s ready, then you can lay on my neck and head. It¡¯ll be fine that way for a while.-

    ¡°That works. Just let me know when your neck starts getting sore.¡±

    Careful not to step wrong and tug at Socks¡¯ fur, Dirt stepped around where she could see him.

    The girl had a look of trepidation on her face. She knew what was about to happen, but not what to expect. And who could blame her? How many people had been privileged to ride a wolf, in all of history?

    Dirt smiled and mimicked holding still, then nodded at her.

    She lifted her hands a little, then acted like she was dumping something off to the side. Herself, he gathered. He looked at her mind, and she was indeed concerned about being dropped along the way.

    Dirt shook his head and pointed at Socks, then at her, and made a holding-on motion. She panicked and tried to get a handful of the pup¡¯s fur, so he had to correct himself. He pointed at Socks first, then made the holding motion, then pointed at her. After that, he pointed at her again, then smiled and made a pillow with his arms, and relaxed into it.

    She got the idea. She kept a grip on Socks¡¯ fur, though. Dirt knelt and made her unclench her fists so she wouldn¡¯t pull any out, then guided her hand to show her she could stick it in there and keep it warm.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Once that was all taken care of, she looked at him with something important on her face that she couldn¡¯t figure out how to express. He looked at her mind again and it was easy to read: Where are we going?

    He had no good way to tell her, so he didn¡¯t try. He just patted her on the head and lay against Socks'' neck, resting his arms on the pup¡¯s head, and his chin on those.

    Socks weighed his bearing against his direction sense, then turned back around and headed down the mountain in the direction they¡¯d come. -The bird was carrying her in almost a straight line from a human place. It¡¯s not the closest one, but it seems the most likely.-

    The pup picked up speed bit by bit instead of all at once to keep from terrifying his cargo, but it scared her anyway. Even with Socks¡¯ curved mental shield in front to direct most of the cold wind away and nothing to look at but the sky, she could sense how fast they were moving. She felt the motion of the pup¡¯s muscles below her and caught glimpses of lumps in the snow from the corner of her eye as he ran, and she spent the next while in a state of mild emotional distress.

    Dirt and Socks had little to do other than watch her thoughts, which were easy enough to understand if they didn¡¯t struggle to learn each word that went through her head. She kept having loud, imaginary arguments with several people, and not always the same ones. Two who must have been her parents, a man and a woman. And one who might have been the Father of her tribe, since he was old and seemed to be giving orders.

    She wasn¡¯t supposed to go back, but if the wolf was taking her home, then there was nothing she could do about it. She was worried in part for Dirt and Socks, fearing they might be attacked, which Socks found amusing. Her mental picture of that attack was four large men with spears.

    They learned her name. Biandina. She kept picturing people yelling it in anger or surprise, calling it while they plead with her to leave, or sentencing her to death.

    And she was certain they were going to kill her for returning. That was clear. She was deciding what to say before that happened. Some of it seemed conciliatory and apologetic, and some was harsh invective. Curses upon them, for letting her get too far in. For letting her do what she¡¯d done.

    She struggled to fight against the bud of hope that had grown inside her. The odd little boy-god and the wolf had saved her when she thought she was dead. She should be dead right now. Perhaps the gods were real after all, and not evil.

    The girl got some sleep once she finally got used to Socks¡¯ speed and convinced herself she wasn¡¯t going to fall off. Dirt took the liberty of tapping her with his foot any time she started having a nightmare. She slept for well over an hour, which was rather impressive considering the circumstances.

    There was less day left than they thought, since the sun raced across the sky much faster in winter than it did in summer. Twilight came before they¡¯d reached their destination, requiring them to stop near a small hillock, which was the only shelter they could see, such as it was. Perhaps they should have stopped at the trees they¡¯d passed a half hour ago, but it was too late now.

    Biandina was feeling quite a bit better, and once they let her stand up, she poked at her wounds in amazement to find them closed. Still sore inside and out, but the bleeding was done with and she could move around.

    Her good health gave her a bit of spark, brightening her eyes. She gestured at the snow, trying to convey that Dirt and Socks should make a shelter like she had in mind, which was a round circular embankment, tall enough to keep the worst of the wind off them.

    They obliged, piling up snow in a ring tall enough for Socks to lay inside of and not be seen. It took an absurd amount of snow, but there was plenty to work with.

    After that, they dug through the snow to pull up grass to sit on, which Dirt wished he¡¯d thought of last night. Biandina kept wincing and hissing every time she bent over, so Dirt made her stop and just watch. It didn¡¯t take long to gather enough, especially with Socks helping. The grass under the snow here was long and sturdy and thick and reminded him of the grain that grew around Ogena. They pulled up more than they needed and turned their little snow-bowl into another nest.

    Miraculously, it ended up exactly like Biandina envisioned, which made her quite proud of herself. She gave Dirt a nervous hug and accepted Dirt¡¯s invitation to pat Socks on the snout. Socks somehow managed to restrain himself from huffing and startling her, but only barely. He¡¯d been tempted.

    Socks curled up in the shelter, and Dirt and Biandina crawled in afterward to make themselves comfortable against his fur. The grass was much better than sitting on the bare snow, and once Dirt summoned a few embers, the shelter held in a surprising amount of warmth. The cold withdrew leaving only a pleasant hint of frost on his breath, and all the rest of him was finally warm.

    Biandina did a lot of squirming as she tried to find a position that didn¡¯t put pressure on her injured insides, and Dirt was sure she fell asleep long after he and Socks did. All that digging in the snow had made him tired, and so had being cold. Being cold all day was exhausting. And now that he was warm, Dirt sank quickly into sleep, relishing it.

    Once during the night, Socks gave a low growl, which woke Dirt up. Socks said, -It¡¯s nothing. Go back to sleep.- So he did.

    The night was long and they all woke long before dawn, at the earliest light. Since Dirt and Socks felt like holding still and resting in case they fell back asleep like they often did, Biandina thought she was the only one awake, and she was wide awake and staying that way. She was too scared about returning home to fall asleep again. The same faces kept swirling in her mind, the same conversations. Her thoughts cycled between that, and wondering how her wounds were healing so quickly and so well. She was still sore inside and out, but not nearly as bad as yesterday.

    When Socks finally decided it was time to get up, Dirt and Biandina were surprised to find countless pawprints in the snow around the shelter, all larger than Dirt¡¯s foot but smaller than Socks¡¯. Each bore the claws of a predator that dug into the snow.

    -They smelled the scent of human, and they smelled me, and they thought I had killed some and they could scavenge. I think they believed I was something else. Smaller. One of the little cousins, maybe. Or a dog.-

    Dirt found that somewhat ludicrous, since he¡¯d smelled both dogs and wolves through Socks¡¯ nose, and they were nothing alike. But he was not one himself, so what did he know?

    After seeing the tracks, Biandina was a lot more nervous than Dirt was, since she knew what the tracks belonged to. Her mental picture was something canine, but with a hunched torso and a short tail. They were a bit taller than adult humans and hunted in packs. She gazed around warily, watching the horizon with a fidgety agitation while Dirt melted enough snow for everyone to get a drink. Socks needed three batches.

    Even after that she was still nervous, so Dirt picked up a snowball with his hands and shaped it somewhat like the beast she was picturing. He pointed at it, then at the tracks.

    She nodded, curious.

    Dirt put it on the ground, pointed at Socks, and then smashed it under his heel. That got a chuckle out of her, followed by a wince. Her stomach muscles still needed more time, it seemed. But it was nice to see her smile. Color was coming back to her cheeks, too.

    They were not far from the settlement and saw it on the horizon shortly after full sunrise. It was a perfectly square walled town with the walls intact, but no buildings peeking up over them. It was small, too, smaller than Llovella, and the word that came to Dirt¡¯s mind for it was ¡®outpost¡¯. A military place. A fortification where soldiers went. Dirt was sure his people had made it.

    Biandina felt Socks slowing and sat up, rotating around to sit and face forward. Dirt slid down to sit right in front of her and she draped her arms over his shoulders, which eased the pressure on her guts.

    A group of horsemen charged out from around the walls, and Dirt imagined the gate must be on the other side. Six men, each with spears, rode their horses hard through the deep snow, as if they thought they¡¯d make a charge. Dirt rose to his feet and hopped up onto Socks¡¯ head and waved, hoping to stop them before they did something that would get them killed.

    -Look closer. They are not coming to attack me. They know what a wolf is,- said Socks, his voice tinged with curiosity.

    Well, that got Dirt¡¯s attention and he looked at their minds, or at least, the six closest humans. There were a few hundred more farther away. And Socks was right. They were terrified out of their minds, but intended to welcome the giant pup, of all things.

    Biandina stood on wobbly feet and held her hand out to Dirt. She pleaded, ¡°S¨° ch¨¬ ¨´n mi pudete micca capisce, ma per piac¨¨, ¨´n li attaccate micca s''ellu pudete evitari.¡± Don¡¯t attack them, was the gist of it. That much he could tell.

    Aloud, Dirt said, ¡°Socks won¡¯t attack them unless they do something stupid.¡±

    The horses stopped thirty paces away, not daring to get any closer no matter how their riders urged them forward. The men had their spears pointed up, not forward, in a way that reminded Dirt of the Duke¡¯s palace guards. They had no armor, though, just thick furs like Biandina had on, including the tight hood around their bearded faces.

    Dirt hopped down and trudged through the snow to greet them. It was only thigh-deep here, not waist deep, but that was still too deep to traverse gracefully. Once he got reasonably close for talking, he waved and said, ¡°Hello, I¡¯m Dirt. Nice to meet you. We brought back a person of yours.¡±

    At this, Biandina rose from Socks¡¯ back and sailed gracefully through the air, to the horrified gasps of the riders. Dirt saw confusion in their minds, in part because they didn¡¯t recognize her, and in part because her torn and bloody clothing made them think Socks was returning a corpse.

    But she landed gently on her feet and kept her balance after Socks let go. She slowly raised her face. She stood straight and pulled her hood back. She turned to the rider on the left and said, ¡°Salutu, babbu.¡±

    The man¡¯s face hardened like ice and he slid quickly from his horse. Two steps brought him into range and he stabbed directly for her heart. She closed her eyes and didn¡¯t flinch.

    Dirt was ready, though. He already had the mana. He stepped over and grabbed the spearpoint right before it went in, bringing the spear and the man to a jolting stop. He snapped the spearhead off and threw it to the ground. ¡°Let¡¯s not do this, okay?¡± he said.

    The men screamed. Their fear made them lose the last of their control over the horses and each bolted in a different direction. Four men were tossed into the snow. Those got up and ran back toward the fortress. The other rider went off in completely the wrong direction and didn¡¯t stop.

    Socks huffed in amusement. -That¡¯s more like I was expecting. Come, little Dirt. Let us go make some friends.-

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 18

    Looking at the minds of the fleeing men, they didn¡¯t think Socks was just a big scary wolf, or Dirt was a mysterious boy. H¨¨ un diu! they shouted in their thoughts. He¡¯s a god, Dirt assumed. Or it¡¯s a god, something like that.

    The images that accompanied those thoughts were of Dirt commanding Socks to attack, and much more besides. Torture and painful death, of wicked beasts that could not keep their shapes but changed with each lurching step. Of great rents in the earth out of which enormous spiders crawled; of strikes of lightning that deposited screaming human skeletons that walked and bit the living, all driven by some great and terrible thing just over the horizon. A god.

    One man fled toward a barn somewhere, hoping to protect his sheep. Another struggled to regain control of his horse and rode for the walls, thinking only of his mate, who smiled beneath a halo of candle-lit reddish hair in his memory.

    What a mess. So where to start? Socks was already walking toward the fortress, sauntering with an amused air about him. He was planning on peeking over the wall and seeing what was in there and what everyone was doing.

    Dirt looked back at the girl, though, still standing silently where she¡¯d been. She gazed forward unseeing, her thoughts so conflicted she couldn¡¯t think what to do. Her mind and emotions were the most tangled jumble Dirt had ever seen.

    He stepped over and gave her a hug, patting her sincerely on the back. She raised her arms and returned it limply, her mind elsewhere. Nowhere, really. Lost.

    Well, that wasn¡¯t going to work. He stepped away and waved his hand in front of her eyes to get her attention. It took several tries. Then he pointed at the fleeing man who¡¯d tried to stab her and said, ¡°That¡¯s your father? Babbu? Papa? Pare?¡± Dirt hadn¡¯t even gotten a good look at him, with little to see other than his warm fur clothing.

    ¡°S¨¬, h¨¨ u mo babbu,¡± she said. ¡°¨´n duverebbe micca purtatumi qu¨¬.¡±

    ¡°Okay, well, wait here for a moment. I¡¯ll go get him and you can talk,¡± said Dirt. He patted her arm and gave his best reassuring smile. She looked more miserable than reassured.

    Dirt filled himself with mana and charged after the man, running right through the snow like a horse. He tackled him from behind, nearly missing because he wasn¡¯t very quiet about it and the babbu stepped to the side to dodge. But Dirt still got one arm around the man¡¯s waist and was able to spin him to the ground. After that, Dirt caught one of his fists and pushed it awkwardly against his chest so he couldn¡¯t go for a second punch.

    The babbu squirmed and fought with such terrified abandon that Dirt couldn¡¯t help but laugh in sympathy, but a mana-infused Dirt was too strong for him. ¡°Good human! Nice human,¡± he said, putting on his most beatific half-smile. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Calm down. Calm down. There you go. Good human. Good babbu.¡±

    Either there was a word or two in there that the man understood, or he got the point some other way. His mind still contained despair, and below that, a fiery revulsion for Biandina. But he stopped struggling and gazed up at Dirt, his darting brown eyes only half-lucid, as if merely watching for an opening, not truly seeing anything.

    ¡°Better. Okay. Are you going to behave yourself? Good babbu?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Bonu¡­ babbu,¡± said the man. He wasn¡¯t sure what Dirt was getting at with that. His thoughts grew a bit more coherent, but that didn¡¯t help much. Instead it resulted in a steady stream of words that Dirt couldn¡¯t understand. Biandina¡¯s face flashed in his memory, but without context.

    Dirt pointed at himself and said, ¡°Dirt. My name is Dirt. Dirt.¡±

    ¡°Nomen¡­ nome? Dirt?¡±

    ¡°Dirt. Nome Dirt,¡± said Dirt, nodding in approval. Then he pointed at Socks, who had changed his mind and turned around to watch, and said, ¡°Nome Socks.¡±

    The man nodded. ¡°Socks.¡± More than anything, he seemed surprised to still be alive, and hearing human speech from the terrifying little monster.

    Dirt pointed at the girl and said, ¡°Nome Biandina?¡± He accentuated the question in his voice.

    ¡°E¡­ Etiam, id est Biandina,¡± said the man, ¡°figliola mia.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s my friend,¡± said Dirt, in his language.

    ¡°Amica¡­ amicu? U vostru amicu?¡± said the father.

    Dirt was pleased to discover more and more words that were similar to his language, although it was strange that it was all different ones from the language of the Camayans. ¡°Yes, she¡¯s my friend.¡±

    He let go of the man¡¯s arm and gently got off him, then held out a hand to pull him up. The father rolled and jumped to his feet, expecting to sprint toward the fortress now that he had an opening.

    Except he didn¡¯t. No sooner had he turned around than he nearly bumped into Socks¡¯ snout. The pup gave a low growl. Just the hint of one. The barest hint, but it was enough.

    Dirt took the man¡¯s cold, rough hand and led him over to Biandina, who hadn¡¯t moved from that spot.

    ¡°Your daughter,¡± he said. ¡°My friend. Although I really don¡¯t know her very well, since we speak two different languages. But I guess that doesn¡¯t matter, does it? Daughter. Friend,¡± said Dirt, pointing, just to make sure the father understood.

    She spoke, her voice timid and resigned. ¡°Aghju purtatu un diu, Babbu. Mi dispiace.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Dirt sternly. ¡°I¡¯m not a god. Not a diu! A boy. I¡¯m a boy, and my name is Dirt.¡±

    Two of the other horsemen had gotten their beasts under control by now and were watching from a distance. They expected to have to charge in to save their human but didn¡¯t want to make the first move.

    ¡°Avete da vult¨¤ ¨¤ a tomba. ¨´n ci perseguite micca, figliola,¡± said the father, his voice containing not fear, but revulsion and despair.

    ¡°¨´n s¨° micca mortu. U picculu diu m''h¨¤ salvatu. ¨´n s¨° micca mortu, ma ¨´n s¨° micca perch¨¨,¡± she said, almost a whisper. Her eyes were wide now, fearful as her father was.

    Mortu? That sounded like his word for death. So that¡¯s what the father had in mind. It made sense, now that Dirt understood it. The revulsion was because he thought this was a walking corpse.

    Dirt sighed and lifted her ragged, bloody shirt to show the healing wounds in her abdomen, still red and sore but no longer open and oozing. ¡°Look, see? She got hurt by that bird, but she¡¯ll get better now. She won¡¯t die.¡±

    He pointed at the talon-holes in her pants, then at her shoulder, showing all the places she¡¯d been injured.

    Socks decided he¡¯d had enough and spoke with his mind, loud and clearly for them all to hear. The image he sent was of Biandina dying and limp in the great bird¡¯s talons, then Socks licking her wounds, then her wounds healing and her recovering. At the end, he showed his cute little Dirt patting her head, making very clear that Dirt was his pet, and not anything but a human.

    The babbu was stunned but recovered his wits quickly. He only needed a glance at Socks to figure out what had happened, and Socks hadn¡¯t exactly made it difficult. The bundle of thought was very clear about whom it belonged to. And just like that, everything changed in his mental world. No longer was Dirt a god here to destroy them, but he was a stray human that a wolf was keeping as a pet.

    His relief was obvious, but not complete. His body seemed to deflate as he relaxed and breathed out a heavy sigh. He retained a hint of ice in his eyes, his mind considering far-off implications more serious than a curious wolf, but he waved to the others to come nearer.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Biandina muttered, ¡°Mi salvavanu senza sap¨¨ ci¨° ch¨¬ passava.¡±

    Babbu nodded and bowed his head, closing his eyes. He thought very, very loudly, which got a little grin from Dirt. He knew at once why the man did it¡ªclosing his eyes and thinking loudly made it easy to tell who was talking. He couldn¡¯t exactly indicate with his own scent like the wolves did.

    He did his best to think only in images and emotions, but didn¡¯t quite pull it off. He pictured Biandina wandering off, going a separate direction from Socks. He added some explanation in a hasty stream of sentences that neither boy nor wolf understood, but the general meaning was clear. Please get rid of her.

    Socks growled and the man went pale and froze. The horses stepped back and their riders had to pat them on the necks to keep them calm. The pup sent an image of putting Biandina in her sire¡¯s arms as a gift, and the man spurning it by tossing her into the snow.

    ¡°Maledetta,¡± said the man softly, struggling to think how to explain without words.

    ¡°Oh, maledicta?¡± said Dirt. The word was almost the same as his: cursed. They were saying she was cursed. He felt a whiff of disgust. Sorcery. Nonsense. Wasn¡¯t it? That was a lingering opinion from old Avitus.

    ¡°I¨¨, h¨¨ maledetta! H¨¤ datu un sacrifiziu ¨¨ pricava ¨¤ un diu,¡± said the babbu, his voice pleading.

    Socks huffed in amusement. -These humans are silly,- he told Dirt. -Why are they worried about something like a curse, when nothing here is trying to kill them?-

    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think silliness is a hallmark of my species,¡± replied Dirt. ¡°Are curses even real?¡±

    -I don¡¯t know, but Mother never told us about them, if they are,- said Socks. Then he sent another mental image, loud enough that everyone in the fortress probably heard it. It showed Socks and Dirt wandering around looking for something to do, then spotting her being carried, then fighting and killing the birds. Then finding her alive, and himself licking Biandina¡¯s near-fatal wounds. Then Dirt giving her water, and her recovery. The message was similar to his last one, but the meaning was different. He was saying, ¡°She is incredibly lucky for someone who is cursed.¡±

    Babbu and Biandina had the same reaction, as did the men nearby: None of them wanted to argue with Socks, but they still thought she was cursed. All of them resolved simultaneously to make the pup happy and give him what he wanted until he left. After that, Biandina would leave again, and hope it wasn¡¯t too late.

    -My siblings must visit every now and then, for these humans to know what I am and how to talk to me,- said Socks. -It makes me wonder if this is their territory and they are letting the humans live here, or if they leave their territory every now and then when they want to go see new things.-

    ¡°I hope they aren¡¯t farming the people to eat,¡± said Dirt.

    -I doubt it. Humans take too long to grow up, and you don¡¯t have enough meat to make good livestock,- said Socks, which was honestly one of the more reassuring things he¡¯d ever said.

    Now the men were considering their stocks of food, wondering if they had enough to feed the wolf, and Biandina was trying to think whether she even dared enter the fortress and face the people inside. Her mother was there, and her siblings and friends, and an old man who was probably the Father of the group. Or their Duke.

    Socks¡¯ belly was still full after glutting himself on bird meat yesterday, but he sent them a mental image of giving Dirt a piece of bread to eat, and of Dirt greeting other children.

    ¡°Pensu ch¨¬ avete a fame,¡± said the father to Dirt and Biandina. He waved for them to follow and politely stepped around Socks to make his way back to the fortress.

    Socks figured out which horse-mind belonged to the man¡¯s horse and told it to come back, which it did, to the surprise of the other riders. Babbu took it by the reins, choosing to walk instead.

    Only Biandina hadn¡¯t moved. She was trying to keep her face blank, but it wasn¡¯t working. The conflict in her heart was plain to see, even without knowing her thoughts, which Dirt mostly did.

    And so did her father, apparently, because he said, ¡°Vult¨¤ ¨¤ mezu ¨¤ noi, figliola. Sembra ch¨¬ ¨´n semu micca scapp¨¤ di u nostru destinu, tuttu ci¨° ch¨¬ p¨° esse.¡±

    She nodded, but hesitated, so Dirt grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. The jolt caused little twinges of pain up and down her body, since she wasn¡¯t completely healed yet.

    -I¡¯ll carry you,- said Socks. -Your little legs can¡¯t handle this snow.- He lifted Dirt and Biandina onto his back and led the way, growing impatient. Dirt saw in his mind that he was getting whiffs of things he wanted to examine from inside the outpost walls.

    The girl glanced down at her father, hoping in her mind that he wouldn¡¯t be frightened to see it, but he was past being surprised by anything at this point. He mounted his horse and called to one of the other riders, ¡°Ti piac¨¨ cavalc¨¤ avanti ¨¨ avvis¨¤ ¨¤ l''altri?¡± That one rode ahead at full speed, probably to warn everyone they were coming.

    The party was somber and joyless as they made their way back into the fortress, which wasn¡¯t what Dirt had envisioned at all. He¡¯d expected mostly terror, since Socks was here, or joy, since they¡¯d brought Biandina back. But neither was the case. Just brooding quiet. Unease.

    Hardly anyone had been outside the walls since the snowstorm, as evinced by the lack of trails through the deep snow. Socks kicked a nice trail for them to follow, cleaner and easier than the one left by the horses a few moments before, and they rode single file to the outpost, then around it until they found the gate.

    A large door of criss-crossing iron bars swung outward, and a thick wooden one swung inward to grant access. The opening was about the size of the doorway to the Duke¡¯s palace, only just big enough to let a wagon through. It was nothing like the gates of Ogena, which were wide enough to let an army march out.

    To Dirt¡¯s surprise, the inside was shadowy and dim, despite the unbroken sunlight overhead. It was not until Socks ducked down and shimmied through that they saw the reason why¡ªthe entire outpost had been covered with a mesh netting. It currently sagged precariously beneath the weight of melting snow, but low fires of embers below were helping melt it, and the shape of the ceiling-cloth directed most of the water to drip in the same places, into wooden basins.

    Regularly-spaced poles held it all up, and those spots had holes to let smoke out. There were no other holes. The cloth¡¯s weave was thin enough to let some light through, but not when it had snow on it. They might as well be underground every time it snowed, and the last storm had been so heavy that the melting was still well under way.

    As his eyes adjusted, he quickly found the people. Men, women, and children, all with curious expressions and suntanned faces. They were seated on the ground so close together that it was somewhat warm, and none of them needed those big fur coats. They wore clothing reminiscent of the Camayans, but with more wool than linen. They favored zig-zag patterns for decoration, some dyed and some woven.

    There were no roads. The outpost wasn¡¯t large enough to need any. Instead, narrow pathways wove between the tangled mess of shacks and tents covering every square inch of ground, from what Dirt could see. The smell of the place was as strong as an Ogena market square at midday, with so many bodies living in such close proximity.

    As with Ogena, the light of so many minds made it difficult to tell them apart. But unlike Ogena, if he dimmed his own thoughts as if to hide them, he could tell them apart and see them, at least the close ones. Mostly, they contained a mixture of curiosity and awe, but Socks could smell plenty of acidic fear in the air. Dirt sniffed and wondered if he could smell it too, or if he was imagining things.

    -This place is too crowded. There is nowhere for me to lie down without crushing a human or a little house,- complained Socks.

    The big pup wasn¡¯t wrong. There was hardly any room at all, anywhere, at least not by the gate. Dirt stood and stepped up onto Sock¡¯s head and could touch the low parts of the ceiling-cloth. But from up here, he saw an open area about a hundred paces farther in. That would do. Socks headed in that direction, stepping carefully as he went.

    Even when the pup¡¯s giant claws landed only a foot or two away, no one made a sound. The crowd stayed seated and quiet, except for a few babies and toddlers that screamed, or a young child who asked questions only to be quickly hushed by a parent. Dirt found it truly unsettling, as if the archers attacking them in Ogena had been more welcoming than this. What was everyone doing?

    -They are making sure not to annoy or startle me. Wolves do not like it where there is too much sound or commotion, unless we¡¯re making it. I am an exception because I am used to you, but if a different wolf were here, this would be smart,- explained Socks.

    He eventually made his way past the crowd and into an open area in front of the Principia, still standing after so long. Any fa?ade or decoration it once bore was gone and many of the stones had been replaced by much shoddier brick, but the shape was right. It was the only proper building in the place, the only thing not assembled from whatever spare wood and cloth the locals could stick haphazardly together.

    The granary that should be next to it was missing, as was the commander¡¯s quarters, which served to remind Dirt that his empire was still gone. This was the corpse of a place inhabited by people who didn¡¯t understand it, not an island of old culture that had endured.

    There was enough open space in front of the Principia for Socks to sit down, so he finally did, slumping down to rest with tiredness that was purely emotional. Dirt slid off and helped Biandina down, and once her feet were both on the ground, she practically hid behind Dirt in a way that reminded him of how M¨¤xim had managed to always stand behind ¨¨lia, until he¡¯d gotten familiar with Socks. Dirt smiled softly at that. Would ¨¨lia and Biandina ever meet, he wondered?

    The crowd near the gate were shuffling into the area and sitting again, all quietly so as not to give offense. It made Dirt feel like he was at a funeral, the boring part of one. Which was a curious thought. What happened at a funeral?

    Biandina¡¯s father rode past, taking his horse to a nearby stables, leaving her and Dirt to stand there blankly and stare at the crowd.

    Dirt looked with his mind-sight and took it all in, trying to gather the general mood of the people and see what he could learn. Very little, beyond what he could tell with his eyes. Curiosity, nervousness, and so on.

    But there was one mind that stood out among the rest. Not because it was brighter, but something about its shape or contents grabbed his attention. He focused on it, wondering what it was, and recognized an unnatural emptiness. A familiar one, belonging only to the most wretched of things.

    ¡°Hey, Socks,¡± said Dirt in his mind, ¡°One of these people is dead.¡±

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 19

    -There¡¯s a dead person here? Half dead, like the things the big eye makes? Or all the way dead, like Prisca?- said Socks, and then he had to find it himself. He did almost immediately, but after that he seemed upset that he hadn¡¯t noticed it first. -Half dead. What do you want to do about it?-

    Dirt looked at all the people staring at him and grew self-aware and went about straightening his shirt and smacking stray dust from his pants, even though there wasn¡¯t any. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Let¡¯s see what they want to do with us first. I¡¯m not sure it¡¯d be a good idea to rip one of their people in half right away. They probably don¡¯t know, since it¡¯s not attacking anyone.¡±

    -But we are going to rip it in half, right?-

    ¡°Oh, of course.¡±

    -Good.-

    The half-corpse mind had no thoughts in it, no reasoning of any kind, but the living part of its face still functioned. Its eyes took in light so it could see, and its ears still heard. Right now, it was somewhere near the back of the crowd, watching Socks. The end of the pup¡¯s tail twitched, eager to go destroy it. Soon enough.

    Shortly after, an older man emerged from the Principia, which pleased Dirt; at least they were using the building somewhat correctly. The Duke or Father or whatever they called him belonged there. He approached carrying two slices of dried meat the size of his forearm on a handsome ceramic platter with patterns in blue glaze.

    If that was all he was bringing out for something the size of Socks, food must be scarce, even this early in the winter. Why they were short on supplies, Dirt didn¡¯t need to guess. Perhaps the giant birds, or local goblins, or those big wolfy creatures, but it didn¡¯t really matter. That was just the fate of humans.

    The old man had a spry step, though, and a vigor that didn¡¯t match his wrinkly, spotted old face or head with more bare skin than hair. His simple, gray woolen shirt did little to distinguish him, but the way people moved out of the way and lifted their palms for him made it clear he was in charge. That palm lifting was a strange gesture, but Dirt figured it symbolized upholding his leadership, or his health, or some such thing.

    His age showed when he winced as he bent down to place the ceramic platter on the ground before Socks. He had a sore back, like so many of the aged men of Ogena. Socks and Dirt were able to pick out his mind in the crowd when he thought very loudly that Socks should eat. Mostly in pictures, but a few words snuck in. Per piac¨¨, manghja. ¡®Per piac¨¨¡¯ was ¡®please,¡¯ so manghja must be ¡®eat.¡¯

    Socks replied with an image of himself glutting on bird flesh, enjoying the blood that got all over his nose and the fur of his face, and the feeling of his stomach getting full to bursting. Even now he felt full. But his little human and their new friend had gotten no breakfast. Socks ended it with Dirt and Biandina tearing away some dried meat and taking a bite.

    Dirt had no interest in waiting around and hopped over to grab some. Biandina didn¡¯t follow, so Dirt tore off a strip for her as well, then grabbed her cheeks like he was going to force-feed her, unable to suppress a giggle. She got upset and considered smacking him, which made it even funnier, but chose to eat instead, shyly looking at anything but the crowd while she wolfed it down.

    It wasn¡¯t bad. It was fine, just not good enough to share his sense of taste with Socks. Nothing delicious about it, just meat and almost enough salt. They probably saved the good stuff for creatures with more discerning palates than Socks and his kind.

    Still, it was food, and Dirt couldn¡¯t go for a week on a full belly like Socks. He had a much smaller belly and it emptied out in less than a day, no matter the size of the meal.

    So he smiled and repeated the palm-up gesture at the old Father and said, ¡°Thank you. Can I keep the rest of this?¡±

    The old man gave Socks an inquisitive glance, hoping for an explanation, and Socks replied with an image of Dirt putting the leftover meat in a harness pocket to eat later. The old man smiled and nodded, then picked up the leftovers and reached up to drop them into the pocket himself. Then he patted the pocket and stepped back.

    After that, no one was quite sure what to do. It quickly became apparent that they were hoping Socks would either tell them what he wanted, or leave.

    -What should I tell them? And even better, how?- Socks asked Dirt. A mild sensation of frustration accompanied his thoughts.

    ¡°You¡¯re overthinking it. Just talk like a wolf. Tell them like you¡¯d tell Brother and let them figure it out. Knowing how to talk in my language is making it seem harder than it is,¡± said Dirt.

    -Fine,- said Socks, visibly relieved. He shifted his weight and settled in, then crossed his front paws and rested his chin on them. It was a restful position, but not a sleepy one, and Socks¡¯ eyes were still high enough to keep watch on the surroundings.

    When he spoke again, his thoughts filled the gathering like the scent of incense in a temple, calming an already quiet crowd of curious humans. He spoke calmly, without any of the harshness or pressure that Father or Mother or Big Brother had. Like when the pups spoke amongst each other, scent and impression conveyed more than images or sounds did.

    He began by introducing himself, sharing his own scent that revealed his sex and age, still a pup on the verge of getting his adult fur and coloring. He showed Mother, stronger than the roots of the earth, his nurturer and teacher and judge, sending him to explore, and how he found Dirt on one of his very first forays into the wilds away from the den.

    Socks skipped a lot of details that Dirt thought were important, like the order things happened in, but instead he focused on the things he thought were interesting. Sights and smells, interesting places. Bugs and birds and all manner of prey, the flavor of blood of a dozen creatures.

    Human places they¡¯d found and explored. Goblins they¡¯d fought. Those digger creatures in the mountains, the tentacle beast. Socks hid as much as he revealed, always keeping Dirt¡¯s role in the background.

    He showed them the white tower of Llovella stained with soot, and the empty town around it. To Socks, it was a place of startling variety, more things than he could take in everywhere he looked. Smells in a wild, heady confusion; old wood and paint and cloth and rotting grain; new plants growing, traces of passing animals, much more. Always some fascinating thing to spot in a window, or Dirt showing him some new artifice intended to make up for natural human inadequacy.

    After that, Socks showed the walled city of Ogena and all its bustling little humans crammed in together, some wearing metal and others cloth, and now his little Dirt felt like he should be dressed much of the time. Socks found it all very fascinating and communicated it with how the materials smelled and how humans smelled while wearing them, with only flashes of images as if what it looked like didn¡¯t matter.

    The humans in the crowd paid rapt attention, even the infants and small children. Dirt had an easier time picking their minds out, since they were both simple and full of light. The little ones took in what Socks was telling them and processed it at a primal level, more completely than any of the adults. The older a human was, the more he had to struggle to figure out what it all meant.

    A woman just as old as the city¡¯s Father came out of the Principia wearing a thick woolen dress that went down to her ankles and looked pleasantly warm. She had a big pot of water over one shoulder, which seemed more than she should be able to carry. She set it down in front of Socks and handed Dirt a ladle to drink out of, then Biandina. Finally, she gestured for Socks to finish off the rest. His tongue was too wide to fit into the opening, so he lifted it with his mind and emptied it into his mouth in one splash. It might be plenty of water for a human, but it was no more than a gulp or two for Socks.

    Dirt wondered if they were bringing out only small amounts on purpose, intending to give the pup the idea that they were not a reliable source of food, but by the time Dirt picked out her mind amongst all the lights in the crowd, it was too late to tell.

    After that, Socks went back to when they first met Ignasi and Marina and H¨¨ctor and how frightened they¡¯d been because they couldn¡¯t recognize Dirt for what he obviously was: a normal little human.

    He skipped to watching Dirt learn to dance and being thoroughly confused, since the rhythm and sounds of music didn¡¯t have the effect on Socks that it did on humans. Socks¡¯ best guess was that it made up for having incredibly dull senses of smell and hearing and losing all the pleasure that came with them. But Dirt liked it, so Socks could appreciate it by proxy.

    After that, Socks showed the ruins of Ocriculum, and Dirt being sad about losing his human civilization. Dirt, despite being tiny, had exuded more of the scent of misery than Socks had thought possible for a living creature, standing alone in a half-collapsed room howling at the sky while his eyes leaked water. His own heart had ached in sympathy, and they¡¯d become even closer because of it.

    Dirt, aside from being adorable, was a wellspring of novelty. Each time Socks thought he was beginning to fully grasp human behavior, something new happened.

    From there the story wandered as they explored over the rest of the summer and much of the autumn, of plants and games and the scents found only on the tops of mountains. Of hunting with Father and his siblings, of the bracing vigor that came with the cold weather, and how it energized him.

    Socks left out the magical device that transported them here, preferring to leave it vague, but showed how they spotted Biandina being carried by the bird and rescued her. He showed the fight, mixing in the scents of terror and pain from the birds, and sharing information Dirt hadn¡¯t noticed¡ªthree of the birds were old, and two were young, but they weren¡¯t parents and children to each other. That meant there must be lots more of them around.

    The pup¡¯s tale ended with what would happen if the humans harmed Biandina or cast her out again: Dirt would be sad, and that would make Socks angry. And just to make the point, he raised his head again to give Dirt a little lick on the side of his face, then glared possessively at the crowd before resting his head again.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    It seemed half the crowd didn¡¯t know what had happened with the girl and were confused, and the half that knew got rather uncomfortable. All at once, dozens of children asked their mothers what Socks meant and who Biandina was. In reply came just as many hushed responses, short ones that probably didn¡¯t explain much.

    The tribe¡¯s Father seemed nonplussed and wiped his hand across his head as if he still had hair to straighten. Biandina¡¯s Babbu approached and muttered something in the old man¡¯s ear that Dirt didn¡¯t quite catch.

    The old man then leaned down to repeat it into his mate¡¯s ear, and the old woman¡¯s face smoothed immediately into a gentle smile. So she was like the Duchess, after all.

    She leaned down slightly toward Dirt, just enough to give him her full attention but not seem condescending, and said, slowly and clearly, ¡°T¨´ ¨¨ u lupu pudete capiscenu, n¨°?¡±

    ¡®Tu¡¯ and ¡®lupu¡¯ were close enough to Dirt¡¯s words to tell she was asking about him and Socks, but the rest was obscure. She saw his hesitancy on his face and mimicked puppets with her hands, one talking to the other.

    Dirt grinned and said, ¡°Perfectly.¡±

    His word for that must been close to hers, because she gave him a friendly nod and pointed at his eyes, then turned her hand outward, gesturing for him to come see something. Then the puppet hands talking again. Come see this, then tell the wolf.

    Dirt nodded and took the staff he''d made from Socks¡¯ halter, then reached for her hand. She took it and gave a polite little bow to Socks.

    -Don¡¯t let her trick you. Put mana in your skin now, just in case,- said Socks.

    ¡°They don¡¯t know I¡¯m dangerous, but there¡¯s no doubt that you are. They wouldn¡¯t dare. Want to share our sight?¡± replied Dirt.

    -Yes.-

    So they did. Dirt opened his mind to Socks and that portion slid together, easily as ever. There was a moment of disorientation before Socks closed his eyes, but the pup had to give one last glare at the woman just to make sure she didn¡¯t get any ideas. The pup rested his head on his paws again afterward, but his ears kept flicking to listen to everything, indicating he was still awake.

    The woman led him through the crowd, which only parted enough to let them walk past. The old man followed, and behind him, Biandina¡¯s babbu and the girl herself, shyly trying to keep out of sight. As they snaked through the people, Dirt did as Socks instructed and inhaled enough mana to toughen his skin from head to toe. If anyone tried to hurt him, they¡¯d be in for a surprise.

    They walked right to the Principia, which was the thing Dirt most wanted to see anyway. The door was long gone, leaving just an empty frame that Socks might not be able to fit through if he tried. Dirt¡¯s missing memories twitched as they entered the Great Hall, and for just an instant he expected to find hanging banners and flags, spear and swords and shields decorating the walls. Bright lamps and colorful decoration.

    But there was none of that, and it confused him until his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. Even with the snow dimming the area outside, they burned no lamps or candles during the day here, and it was as dark as a cave. The old woman led him very slowly, keeping him from stepping on anything, and it wasn¡¯t long before he could make out his new surroundings.

    The Great Hall was missing nearly everything that should have defined it. Instead, the huge room was merely filled with tents and shacks of slightly better construction than outside. At least there were weapons stacked along the near wall, mostly long wooden spears, but clearly not as decoration. He had to suppress the scowl his face wanted, but Dirt reminded himself that this was not a place of his people anymore.

    His eyes were drawn to the door across the way, straight opposite the entrance. That was the part of the Principia he most wanted to see, even while he was certain he¡¯d regret it. Something drew him, a sense of familiarity and duty. That was the place he¡¯d always gone first, he knew, back when he was Avitus. Through that door, and into¡­ something.

    Before they could enter, though, the men had to move a heavy wooden frame they¡¯d set there to block the way. It didn¡¯t quite go all the way up, as anyone could see by the light shining over, and Dirt could have climbed up and squeezed through if he wanted. And he found it encouraging¡ªif no one went in there, maybe it would be untouched after all these years.

    The room was much brighter inside, due to a big hole in the roof through which the snow had fallen. It lay in a big round clump, spotless. The sunlight reflecting on it was so bright that Dirt had to squint to see anything else, but then he saw an outline and rushed in, to the dismay of the old woman who couldn¡¯t quite keep a hold on his hand.

    In the center of the room, under the pinnacle of the arched roof, was a statue of Melodia, the Mistress of Song, Watcher over Travellers. An unusual god for an army outpost to worship, but not unheard of, especially if troops were regularly moving in and out.

    And just like every other image of the gods that Dirt had seen, she was injured and suffering. A gash ripped her open from one shoulder to the opposite thigh. Blood of carved marble ran down her leg and pooled around her feet, then dripped from the plinth and gathered in a small pool on the floor. Her dress hung ragged and one hand tried to hold her guts in, though they bulged around it. The other arm was broken at the elbow, turning the wrong way and dangling uselessly, and one foot was turned and lame. Her face bore such a miserable pain that Dirt felt sick to his stomach.

    The old woman noticed Dirt¡¯s dismay and placed a comforting hand on his back. But there was little comfort in her voice as she explained, ¡°Biandina h¨¤ fattu un sacrifiziu ¨¤ stu dea. H¨¨ per quessa ch''ella h¨¨ maledetta ¨¨ perch¨¨ deve lasci¨¤.¡± Dirt caught the words for sacrifice, goddess, and curse, but it wasn¡¯t quite clear what she meant.

    Seeing the lack of understanding, the woman pointed at a carved stone rabbit in part of the decoration along the faux pillars lining the walls. Dirt nodded and made rabbit ears with his fingers to show he understood.

    She mimicked holding up the animal by its ears and carrying it toward the statue, then ending its life with the slash of a blade. She pointed at a dark stain on the plinth, which Dirt realized must be the animal¡¯s blood. ¡°She sacrificed a rabbit?¡± Dirt asked.

    First off, she¡¯d done it wrong. The blood was supposed to go on the altar, and there wasn¡¯t one here. And second¡­ did Melodia accept rabbits? He didn¡¯t know. It might be written down somewhere. But more importantly than that, who cared? What could a god that looked like that do, for good or evil? And besides that, were there even still gods in the world? It didn¡¯t seem that way to Dirt. Either they were helpless, or they were gone.

    Thinking about it made the old guilt resurface. He was responsible for this, he knew. He was a living sacrilege himself, so why should he be upset about Biandina doing something useless?

    Dirt stepped forward, blinking away a burning in his eyes that he hoped they didn¡¯t notice, or thought was a reaction to the cold air coming in from the hole in the roof. He traced a finger along the dried blood. ¡°I really do keep coming back to this, don¡¯t I? Someday I¡¯m going to have to answer for what I did. I¡¯m sorry, Melodia. I don¡¯t know what I did or why, but I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    He placed his hand on her good foot, palm resting on her tightly curled toes, and bowed his head for a moment. There was something he should be doing or saying, something he had done a thousand times, but he couldn¡¯t remember what. He had lost it forever.

    The other humans were dismayed by his behavior, and Dirt glanced at their minds to find out why. To them, it looked like Dirt was familiar with the gods, and that seemed such a blasphemy that they were wondering if they should somehow warn the wolf, or if the wolf was part of it.

    Biandina¡¯s babbu¡¯s heart was pained and unsettled, and he was strongly considering killing Dirt and his daughter right here, then trying to talk their way out of it. He wasn¡¯t a fool, though; it was simply a matter of which bad outcome would be worse. The attention of that god¡ªthe embodiment of suffering and evil¡ªor the ire of the wolf.

    Dirt stepped back and sighed, shrugging. He looked at the old woman with a look on his face as if to say, what now?

    ¡°Cumu cunnosce u so nome? Cumu cunnosce u nome di a dea?¡± asked the old woman.

    Dirt heard the word for ¡®name¡¯ and ¡®goddess.¡¯ ¡°Oh, what¡¯s her name? That¡¯s Melodia. Melodia,¡± he said.

    Well, that was the wrong thing to say. The old woman recoiled and the old man let out a quiet hiss. Biandina¡¯s babbu saw their reaction and considered trying to stab Dirt, but remembered what Dirt had done to his spear.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? What did I say?¡± he asked.

    But before he could get an answer, Socks severed their shared sight. The pup had heard something and wanted to see what it was, and soon told him, -Watch out, Dirt. That half dead human just snuck in the doorway. I think he¡¯s coming to you. I only caught a glimpse but he looks like this.-

    The pup sent an image of a man from behind, wide-shouldered and hood down, revealing a head of short, curly hair and a pale neck. -Need me to come?-

    ¡°Not yet. Let me see if I can smooth this out first. Otherwise we may have to leave in a hurry,¡± said Dirt.

    He raised his hands apologetically, trying to look chagrined. He pointed at himself, then mimicked sacrificing a rabbit just as the old woman had done, then emphatically waved his hands in an X shape, hoping to communicate that it was something he¡¯d never do. He gestured twice, just to make the point.

    A pair of eyes flashed deep inside the doorway, back in the dark of the Great Hall. Dirt looked at the minds and found the half-corpse. It was hiding there, silently and thoughtlessly watching him.

    Dirt pointed and said, ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±

    The others looked just as it crept backward to hide. The old man had seen motion, though, and stepped back into the Great Hall to see who it was. Dirt heard him conversing with someone else, a gruff male voice with a gravelly quality. Then the old man and the half-dead corpse walked in, both squinting in the sunlight.

    He looked perfectly normal. Even his mannerisms seemed average. He had a short, dark beard to match his dark hair and wore the same woolen clothing everyone else had on. If anything distinguished him at all, it was his skin, just a shade paler than average.

    The man-shaped monster gave Dirt a polite wave. With a hint of apology in his voice, he said, ¡°Eru solu curiosu di ci¨° ch¨¬ facia. ¨´n vulia d¨¬ micca male.¡±

    Dirt assessed him carefully, looking for anything he could accuse the man with. Dirt would prefer to kill him before he realized he was in danger, but he didn¡¯t want to fight half the tribe on his way out.

    The old woman said, ¡°¨´n ci h¨¨ micca assai per vede. Pensu ch¨¬ u zitellu ¨´n h¨¤ micca capitu ci¨° ch¨¬ ci vulia ¨¤ d¨¬.¡±

    The man smiled, flashing his teeth in a way that made Dirt think of hunger. ¡°Dopu tuttu, ¨´n h¨¨ ch¨¨ un zitellu.¡±

    Dirt smiled back at him, then reached forward to offer him a handshake. The man accepted, and his hand was cold and strong, barely moving. Dirt suddenly tugged the man¡¯s shirt up with his mind, hoping perhaps there was something hidden under there. There was no way all of him looked normal.

    The man¡¯s clothing went tight, but surprisingly, his shirt was sewn to his pants to prevent exactly this.

    ¡°Got you now,¡± said Dirt with a predatory grin of his own. Strengthening both his arms, he dropped his staff and caught the other man¡¯s wrists to hold him in place. Then with his mind, he yanked the knife out of its sheath and sliced a circle around the man¡¯s shirt.

    It fell open and revealed a mass of pulsing gray flesh covering two thirds of his torso. Under his armpit was a woman¡¯s face from the nose down, chin jutting two inches out from where the rib cage should be. Dirt held him there for long enough for the others to see it, then swung the knife back around for a stab.

    The monstrous human gave Dirt a brutal kick in the stomach that lifted both feet off the floor. It was so vicious that a tiny bit of pain made it through Dirt¡¯s mana protection.

    Finally, the others realized what they were seeing and screamed. Biandina¡¯s babbu reacted first and stabbed the half-corpse right through his gray, pulsating chest, spearpoint coming a handspan out his front.

    It didn¡¯t affect him in the slightest. The only reaction was that the monstrosity quit pretending to have human emotions and let his face go slack. The woman¡¯s face under his right arm jawed its mouth as if trying to take a bite.

    Dirt inhaled mana again, just to make sure, and threw the dagger straight into the monster¡¯s forehead. He braced his feet and pushed it deeper. Then he yanked it out with a wet smacking sound and went for the neck.

    At the same time, some of the twisting flesh on the man¡¯s torso unwound and became a long arm with three joints and a single clawed finger on the end. It stabbed over and over at Dirt, hard enough to sound a solid thump in his chest, but Dirt¡¯s mana didn¡¯t let it puncture him.

    Dirt kept his hold on the man¡¯s arms, strengthening his fingers to iron. He stabbed over and over with the knife, yanking sideways each time to leave huge gashes, only some of which bled. The man fell apart, losing an arm, then a leg, then his head, and then finally dying all the way. Rotting black blood pooled on the floor and raised an incredible stench, but all was still.

    Into the shocked silence that followed came a scratch, scratch, scratch, gentle and rhythmic, from under the stone floor.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 20

    The humans must not have heard the scratching; or if they did, they chose to ignore it. The shock of the sudden fight wore off quickly and Biandina¡¯s babbu pulled her away from the spreading black blood while the old woman hastily wiped some splattered drops from the old man¡¯s face. Other than that, everyone stared in horror and disgust at the brutally mangled corpse of their corrupted kinsman.

    Dirt was filthy, blood all up and down his front, but thank Grace he¡¯d had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. He never wanted to taste anything worse than tentacle slime and this smelled like it would be.

    He stepped over to the untouched pile of snow and pushed his face in as far as it would go, then turned his head left and right to try and clean it. That turned out to be painful, since the snow somehow scraped like sand, and the icy cold wasn¡¯t pleasant either. And on top of that, it didn¡¯t work very well.

    Oh well. He¡¯d borrow a rag and use that. First, though, he retrieved his dagger and cleaned it thoroughly in the snow by wetting it down, wiping it with his fingers, and finishing with the back of his pants where they were still clean. The sheath was still clean, fortunately.

    By then, Socks had squeezed into the great hall and stuck his head through the doorway of the Aedes, as close as he could get without ruining the building. -Everyone hold still,- he commanded in the way of wolves, then shared his sense of hearing with Dirt. The humans looked at the wolf, trying to assess how angry he was and didn¡¯t seem to know how to tell. They hushed and held still.

    With Dirt¡¯s human ears, the scratching had been faint and distant, but now it echoed clearly in a hollow space under the front of the statue. It was a metallic sound, unlike the scratching under Ocriculum. Giving the floor a closer examination, he saw that the spot where the altar should have gone had two half-stones instead of a full one, and the altar would have hidden the line.

    ¡°What do you think that is?¡± asked Dirt.

    -It¡¯s not a bone. But other than that, I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t see under the floor with ghost sight. I wish I could get closer,- said Socks. -It doesn¡¯t sound like the empty space is very large.-

    ¡°No, I was just thinking that. The sound is reverberating in there and I can almost hear the shape. Oh, I know what that is. It¡¯s the treasury,¡± said Dirt. He stepped over and knelt, then leaned down and rested his human ear directly on the stone. Even doing that, Socks¡¯ ears heard it better than his did.

    -What do you put in a treasury? Dead things?--

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember that much. Just the name of it, and that it¡¯s hiding in the Aedes.¡±

    -The Aedes?-

    ¡°That¡¯s what this room is called. I guess you would come in here to see the god when you wanted to. Or to make a sacrifice.¡±

    -And there¡¯s a place underneath called the treasury? Is that because there¡¯s treasure in it?-

    ¡°Probably. Although I bet there isn¡¯t anymore, after so long. People have been living here the whole time. I¡¯m surprised the stone covering it never broke.¡±

    -They probably don¡¯t like to come in here because of the god.-

    ¡°Yeah, but three thousand years is a long time,¡± said Dirt. He stood back up. The pool of blood didn¡¯t look like it would spread this far and drip into the treasury, but that made Dirt wonder how well it was sealed. Although if it wasn¡¯t well-sealed, it would have been full of water by now.

    He looked at the humans, wondering what he should ask them, and more importantly, how. Biandina¡¯s mind showed she could hear the sound, and wondered what it was, since she hadn¡¯t noticed it before. She had a memory of coming here late at night, before the snowfall. Sneaking silently, kneeling before the statue with a rabbit in her hand. She hadn¡¯t noticed the sound then.

    Her babbu thought perhaps Dirt was making it, but mostly he was interested in the flying dagger. He kept thinking of how he¡¯d get Dirt to let him examine it.

    The old woman was filled with dread that seemed unrelated to the reeking corpse only a few steps away. No, she was concerned that Dirt had noticed; that he¡¯d heard or seen.

    Dirt watched more closely. She had been young when it happened¡ªit was an old memory, hazy and half-full of imagined details. She¡¯d watched as they¡¯d tied him up, screaming all the while, begging for mercy. They¡¯d plunged a knife into his stomach, then buried him alive right where Dirt was standing. The large paving stone was pushed back into place, and his pained groans were muffled to nothing. Almost. Almost to nothing. She¡¯d stood there, as had they all, until he was silent.

    He was silent no longer, however. After so long, he was scratching at the underside of his tomb.

    ¡°Hey Socks, she¡ª¡±

    -I saw it. The old man is thinking about it, too,- said Socks.

    Biandina was the first to move, being the least afraid of the giant pup. She gingerly stepped over to Dirt, pointed at the monstrous corpse only a few paces from the hidden tomb, then at herself, and made the sacrificing motion again. She was trying to tell him it was her fault, but Dirt just shook his head and shrugged. He doubted messing up a sacrifice to a missing god would bring a half-dead person to live in their city, but how should he go about explaining that to her?

    Socks said, -Make a light. I think I want to lift the stone and see what¡¯s in there. It should be a dead person, not a giant smoke monster. And if he¡¯s all the way dead and still moving, then we should take care of him.-

    Dirt patted Biandina on the back in a way he hoped was comforting, then gripped her shirt and pulled her a couple steps back. He snapped his fingers to call a little light into being, then picked up the staff.

    The two old people stepped forward at once, arms out to stop him, but Socks held them in place with his mind and gave a low growl. They immediately quit resisting, and he slid them back a few paces before letting them go again. Biandina¡¯s babbu held his spear ready, but wasn¡¯t sure what the threat might be. He must not know about the burial.

    Dirt gripped his staff in both hands, then raised it over one shoulder for a swing just in case.

    The old man held his hands out toward Socks in a gesture of pleading. ¡°Per piac¨¨, ¨´n apre micca. ¨´n sapete micca ci¨° ch¨¬ fate,¡± he said, and the meaning was clear enough, from his nervous glances at Dirt and the stone floor. Please don¡¯t open it. ¡°Per piac¨¨.¡±

    Socks could hardly move his head with it stuck in the doorway like that, but he glared at the old man out of the corner of his eye.

    Dirt asked, ¡°What¡¯s in there, do you think?¡± and pointed at the cover stone with his staff.

    ¡°Una maledizione,¡± said the old man, his voice full and desperate. ¡°Una vechja maledizione.¡± A curse.

    A curse like on Biandina, Dirt wondered? Too bad curses probably weren¡¯t real. Dead things that moved, though, those were real, and they needed to be taken care of.

    Dirt nodded and told Socks, ¡°Okay, I have enough mana again. Open it, but be ready to smash whatever¡¯s in there.¡±

    -Of course. In fact¡­- said Socks, and with that, he lifted Dirt up and brought him safely back alongside his snout. -Your job is to keep it from poking my nose.-

    Before finally lifting the stone, however, Socks sent out another message to everyone and this time, it was his sense of annoyance at the humans behind him that were trying to squeeze around him and see in the doorway. Stay back, you are bothering me, he was saying. Biandina¡¯s babbu tried to peek over the pup¡¯s head to see who it was, but there wasn¡¯t a gap big enough with all that fur.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°If anyone steps on your tail you have my permission to knock them over with it.¡±

    Socks huffed in mild amusement. -As if anyone¡¯s tall enough to do that. Ready?-

    ¡°Ready,¡± said Dirt. He raised the staff again, ready for a swing, and brightened the light he had hovering over the stone.

    Socks lifted the whole lid at once, raising the stone straight up higher than human height. Beneath was a small chamber, just a box, really, that contained a dry old corpse. One arm was extended, animated, moving in a repeated cutting motion. It held a ruined dagger, worn all the way down to the hilt, and waved it to scratch exactly where the lid had been.

    The arm was clearly old and dead, with exposed yellow bone poking through brittle yellow skin and shrunken flesh. The corpse¡¯s face was all bone, clearly visible, but the rest of him was concealed beneath what remained of his clothing.

    Seeing the moving corpse caused the old couple to moan in horror and shrink away. Their minds filled with guilt and despair and their capacity for reason shrank beneath the weight of what they were witnessing.

    The corpse pushed its arm upward, recognizing the lack of resistance, and hung motionless in the air for a moment. Then, with the sound of ancient cracking joints and crumbling flesh, the dead man rose from his grave, standing up almost as if being lifted rather than rising under his own power.

    Its head was the last part of him to snap into place, and his empty skeletal gaze fixed on the old couple, ignoring the bloody child and giant wolf completely. Its mouth clacked in mimicry of speech as it shot an accusatory finger forward, just bone, but with flaps of old flesh hanging beneath it.

    The old couple whimpered and clutched each other. ¡°St¨¤ daretu!¡± shouted the old man, but it sounded more like a plea than a command.

    The decaying skeleton lifted its knee and stepped from its grave, arm still pointing. Its shoes, surprisingly, were in good condition, and its soft footfalls made no sound.

    Once both its feet were out of the box and it started shambling forward, Socks smashed it. He crushed it from above with a wall of mental force and from one instant to the next, it was gone. Nothing but a wide, flat spot of dried jerky and bone dust and tattered furs remained, mingling along the edges with the slowly spreading pool of blood.

    Dirt seemed more relieved than the rest of them. He hadn¡¯t realized he was nervous until the nervousness left him, but he had been. Perhaps something of his fear of Prisca remained, but thank the Gods, this was nothing like her. And hopefully, nothing ever would be again.

    He stepped over to peek into the treasury and said, ¡°That¡¯s too bad. It¡¯s all empty.¡± Biandina¡¯s father stood at his side, gazing in briefly with a dark demeanor. He toed the corpse-dust and smeared it a little, as if having a hard time believing what he¡¯d just seen.

    The old couple shuffled toward Socks, indicating by their body language that they wanted his head out of the doorway. There was a sense of urgency in the air, and Dirt figured the humans had had enough insanity and danger and wanted to go somewhere less intimidating. He patted Socks on the nose and told him, ¡°May as well put the lid back on.¡±

    The stone floated down until Socks was sure it was lined up perfectly, then dropped a few inches into place. After that, with a resigned snort he pulled his head out the door and almost instantly, armed men rushed in, first five, and then twenty. The Aedes was spacious, but not that spacious, and with a pool of blood and pile of snow taking up so much of the floor space, it quickly became crowded.

    The fighting men saw the mangled corpse and the blood all over Dirt, with him standing here holding a staff, and jumped to the obvious conclusion. They lowered their spears and shouted at him, anger and fear in their eyes.

    But only for a moment. With a cry of alarm, the old man hurried into the group of soldiers and started pushing their spears away. He shouted as well, and hearing him, they quieted. ¡°¨´n attacc¨¤ u zitellu. ¨´n mai attacc¨¤ stu zitellu! Nun mai!¡± he shouted, once he had their attention. Dirt could guess the meaning well enough¡ªDon¡¯t attack the boy.

    Other humans started creeping in past Socks, eyes wide and necks stretched to see what was going on. First a couple of women, then a man with no weapon who walked tall like he should have one and hoped no one noticed. He stood amongst the fighters.

    Then, of all things, a child, younger than Dirt. A little girl. Dirt was terrible at guessing the ages of humans, and pretty much everything else except for wolves, but she was old enough to talk without difficulty, but still young enough her mother was almost certainly nearby. She wore no shoes, despite the chilly stone floor, but had the same long woolen dress that most women wore.

    The little girl snuck behind the adults and Dirt realized he was the only one who¡¯d seen her. Well, best not to give it away, if she was that sneaky. He couldn¡¯t blame her for wanting to look.

    But she wasn¡¯t here to look. Once she spotted Biandina, she ran straight for her and clapped her arms around her waist and held her tightly. ¡°Eudossia?¡± said Biandina, startled.

    Babbu saw the little one too late to stop her, and now he didn¡¯t want to pull them apart, even though he reached out a hand to do so before changing his mind.

    ¡°Eudossia, ch¨¬ faci qu¨¬ ? ¨´n devi micca vede questu. ¨´n duvete micca vede... m¨¨,¡± said Biandina. This, of all things, was too much for her, and she looked helplessly at her father as tears began streaming down her face. Her chest shook with a sob, then a second one, both of which she suppressed. Her hand hovered over the little one, and Dirt saw she wanted to return the hug but didn¡¯t dare.

    So he pushed her arms with his mind and made her. Glancing at her mind, Biandina didn¡¯t realize it was him who did it. She thought it was an involuntary reflex and gave up resisting.

    Then another girl just a bit older and a boy about Dirt¡¯s height snuck into the room as well, far less effectively. No one stopped them, though, and they rushed right to Biandina as well, hugging her.

    ¡°Look, Socks, she has siblings! They must have been sad about her,¡± said Dirt, his own pity awakening. Socks had been stoic about losing so many of his own siblings, seldom dwelling on it, but it made Dirt melancholy any time he thought about it. They had been so precious, and now they were gone.

    Another child, smaller than the first, with hair so messy Dirt wasn¡¯t sure what sex it was, and two more older ones came rushing in and went straight for their sister. Another little one followed shortly after, a boy. Seeing them all together, the similarity was so obvious that even Dirt could see it, and he had very little experience telling humans apart.

    But that wasn¡¯t all. Last came a woman with a tiny child in her arms, too small to walk but big enough to sit up, and started calling sharply to the children to come back, each of them by name. She refused to look Biandina in the eyes, and it took Dirt a minute to find her mind. Once he did, he found a soul as hard as flint. Whatever emotions she had in there were locked away so tightly they might never come back out. A hard woman, and a hard life.

    The room was too full of commotion for anything productive to happen, other than all the adults pointedly looking at anything other than Biandina suppressing sobs and the smaller children wailing without making the attempt. She had been dead to them, and was alive again.

    Pity burned hotter in Dirt¡¯s heart, sympathy that enkindled righteous anger. What stupid humans they were, to have a perfectly good human and get rid of her over some stupid rabbit! And an absent god! Didn¡¯t they know how rare humans were these days?

    It was the old woman who did what no one else wanted to and finally started peeling away children and pushing them toward the mother. The mother yanked them commandingly toward the door, but with so many and only one arm, she couldn¡¯t force them all out.

    That was more than Dirt could handle, and he nearly started shouting at them to stop, but didn¡¯t. They couldn¡¯t understand him. He could shout all day long and they might understand no more than five words of it.

    ¡°I am getting really sick of not knowing their language!¡± said Dirt, practically shouting to Socks.

    -I can see. I would pull you over and give you a lick, but you have that blood all over you and I don¡¯t want to taste it either,- said Socks. His voice was gentle and tinged with his own sympathy. Not necessarily for Biandina, but for Dirt, whose current anger was a kind of suffering.

    ¡°They are so dumb! What are they doing? Can¡¯t they see the siblings want their sister?¡±

    One of the littlest ones chose to fall on his bottom rather than get ushered toward the door. He cried, ¡°Inn¨°! Vogliu Biandina!¡± No, I want Biandina! His little hand reached for her, tiny fingers grabbing. Dirt wanted to scream.

    Socks growled and the low rumble cut through the noise, causing the men to stop speaking loudly to each other and the children to stare back through the shadowed doorway in fear. The pup¡¯s yellow eyes glowed with reflected light, adding to the effect. There was a predator here and they were not behaving themselves. He sent out a mental image, showing his displeasure that they were making Dirt sad.

    Shockingly, Biandina¡¯s mother spun and stomped out to face him. She stopped three paces from Socks¡¯ face and shook her finger at him. ¡°¨´n capite nunda. Biandina deve and¨¤. Nimu li piace, ma deve succede. Capisci? Ella deve lasci¨¤.¡±

    Neither Dirt nor Socks understood her words, but her mind was still easy to find. She was the only one staring a giant wolf in the face. In her heart, she¡¯d already given up, and this was just another miserable task. Like burying a loved one or slaughtering a pet for food. That¡¯s what her emotions felt like. Hard and bitter, resigned.

    ¡°Okay, you know what?¡± said Dirt. Hardly anyone was listening to him, though, since they were all fixated on the wolf, who was probably about to eat their woman. ¡°This is stupid. Something insane and weird is going on here and I¡¯ll never figure it out this way. I¡¯m going to go learn how to talk your language. Nobody do anything stupid! Like kick Biandina out again!¡±

    By the end, most of them had at least turned to see what he was ranting about, not that they understood.

    ¡°Okay, Socks, toss me up on the roof, right through that hole.¡±

    -Are you going to call the wind? You will be cold up there.-

    ¡°Yep, I¡¯m going to call the wind, and once it gets here, I¡¯m going to ask for the language. Up I go, please.¡±

    A chorus of startled gasps followed Dirt up through the hole in the roof. He landed atop the dome and grabbed on to the crumbling crestwork, where once a spire had stood.

    Satisfied he was secure, he raised his staff and spoke magic into the world, summoning a gust of wind. He called more, and more.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 21

    The icy wind blew right through his clothing like it wasn¡¯t there, and the fact that it was still wet with blood made it worse. The wet spots stuck to his skin and got so cold it stung. He gritted his teeth and flexed the muscles in his chest to keep from shivering, then did his best to focus. His anger was slow to fade and helped keep him warm. Stupid humans.

    The dome he stood on wasn¡¯t high enough to get a good view of the full scenery and the netting covering the rest of the outpost took up most of his field of vision. It made a wide, uneven grid of dark edges containing white squares of melting snow; a view he found rather remarkable. Entirely unlike anything he¡¯d seen before, but now wasn¡¯t the time to enjoy it.

    Instead, he looked for minds. Socks¡¯ glowed brightly, brighter than anything else, since he was so close. The cluster of humans below were near enough to tell apart, their minds turbulent and troubled. Dimmer human minds filled his view beyond those ones. Nothing like the blinding glow of Ogena, but still too many to tell them apart without serious effort. It was impossible to look away from some and see others, since there wasn¡¯t any directionality in the mental world. Just bright and dim, near and far.

    But wind elementals weren¡¯t humans and it should be easy to pick them out if he watched, so watch he did, with both his mind sight and mana body.

    There wasn¡¯t any natural wind now, but if enough air moved, they had to start showing up, right? The wind Dirt made typically didn¡¯t go far, which he knew from watching the ferns when he first learned how. Maybe it would help if he made the wind longer, since true wind stretched farther than he could guess.

    Rather than improvise how to make that work, he aimed it in different directions. Upward had the greatest effect. The rising wind caused an updraft that lifted air from all around and rose like a tree, far, far overhead, until it spread out like branches and faded. Here below, the rushing air whistled softly in the netting and would have made the whole place whip and shake without snow to hold it down.

    Surprisingly, at the very top of Dirt¡¯s wind-pillar, fog appeared and grew into a thin, wispy cloud. He looked harder with his mana body, wondering if he was missing something, or if another creature was nearby doing magic at the same time, but he found nothing unusual.

    He went to ask Socks about it, but the pup was as surprised as he was, and as curious. He¡¯d stuck his head back through the door, blocking it again, and had just the right angle to watch. Perhaps they could ask Father someday. Or the wind itself, if it ever showed up.

    Dirt decided to see how much cloud he could make. He poured in more and more mana, calling as much wind into being as he could. He even tried lifting the air with his mind to make it go faster, but that proved impossible¡ªthere was nothing for him to grab onto, and he hadn¡¯t figured out how to make a whole wall like Socks did.

    Overhead, the cloud stretched and drifted away from the updraft and never grew into anything big enough to cause shade, but it was interesting to watch. Dirt tried drawing with the wind to make it different shapes, but if he didn¡¯t direct the wind straight up, it didn¡¯t go as high, and wouldn¡¯t make any cloud.

    A massive gust of wind burst out of the hole in the roof, creating a momentary roar that vanished faster than it arose. Dirt peeked down and saw Socks with his chin on the ground and his eyes turned upward, looking almost guilty.

    -I wanted to try,- the pup told him. But it implied more than that; he¡¯d tried doing magic naturally, instinctively, in the manner of wolves. Not with all the sigils and preparation of humans.

    ¡°Well, you didn¡¯t break anything, so try as much as you want,¡± said Dirt.

    The humans down there were standing as close to Socks as they dared get, which wasn¡¯t that close other than Biandina. They crowded together to peer up through the roof and watch Dirt wave his staff and cause clouds to appear. The armed men let their weapons sag, and larger children held up the smaller ones so they could see.

    Well, he didn¡¯t have much of a show to put on. He couldn¡¯t call lightning or play music. He went back to his task, raising his staff again and regenerating the upward pillar of air. Another burst of wind fired out of the hole like an arrow, though, only a moment later.

    -Sorry. It¡¯s harder than it seems. I keep wanting to move the air with my mind, but that¡¯s not the same,- said Socks, just to him.

    Dirt replied with a puff of amusement, then one of affection. After that he added, ¡°Just make sure to catch me if you break the dome.¡±

    -Maybe, if I think of it in time,- said Socks, returning the two emotions. -Remember to yell.-

    Grinning, Dirt went back to making his air pillar. That much motion and a little cloud was sure to attract the wind¡¯s attention eventually, right? How did the wind decide where it wanted to go, and when?

    There was a little squeal from down below and Dirt peeked over the edge again to see that Socks had picked up two of Biandina¡¯s smallest siblings and put them on his head, right between his ears, so they wouldn¡¯t be underfoot as the humans began to ignore the wolf and the blood on the ground and pack more tightly together. The little ones clung to each other like chicks in a nest, eyes wide, and Biandina did her best to comfort them with a wave and soothing words. Dirt found her mind, mostly by familiarity, and saw that she was worried Socks might try to keep them. She was already imagining how to gesture to convince him they needed to stay here.

    Dirt¡¯s idea of making wind to summon more wind worked. When he looked back up to resume his task, he saw the cloud being pushed in half by a gentle crosswind, and soon he found the mind of a wind elemental. Just a small one, but the shape of its mind was unmistakable when compared with all the humans. Its perceptions stretched from near to far, but nothing like the wind-mother¡¯s.

    He formed the opening of a conversation in the world of magic, drawing the sigil for ¡®beginning of a new process,¡¯ like he¡¯d been taught. The little wind caught sight of it immediately and Dirt felt a slight increase in the breeze as it descended to see what he was. He watched it feel him and saw the shape of his body and clothing passing through the twisting tangles of its mind, before it began drawing its reply.

    This one¡¯s mind was small enough he could grasp more of it than the big one, and he verified something the dryads had told him. They said the physical world was like a dream to the elementals, and from what Dirt saw, that wasn¡¯t far off. Only a small portion of its awareness took any note of him, responding in a way that seemed very much like dreaming.

    In dreams, other than those shared with Socks, Dirt acted and moved and spoke, but it was hard to say he had any control. It was just things that happened. Conversations that seemed real but upon waking seemed garbled and incoherent, due to the nature of the world of dreams. Humans only drifted across that world, awake or asleep, and made ripples but never saw the depths.

    That¡¯s what the elemental seemed like to Dirt. He was talking to its dream, a part distant from the core of its reality. In fact, its presence in the world of dreams was probably more concrete than it was here.

    The elemental took hold of his ¡®beginning a new process¡¯ sigil and began to speak. The words it formed were more familiar than Dirt expected, which made him wonder if the small ones had a simpler vocabulary. It drew Dirt¡¯s air pillar, described it by its natural process¡ªa system of incoming pressures with lower pressure above, squeezing the air upward. The elemental¡¯s mind was tinged with curiosity, although the object of its curiosity wasn¡¯t clear. What was he doing, perhaps, or why.

    Dirt learned a new sigil: cloud, which was a variation of water. That appeared when the elemental drew it plainly, almost by itself, with the sigil for ¡®small¡¯. Why was he making a small cloud? That must be it.

    He thought about that for a moment, then redrew the opening sigil, as if to start a new conversation. In the places where the conversation might begin, he drew the sigil for ¡®empty¡¯, and sent a mental puff of desire.

    From there they began a mostly pointless artistic dance, drawing sigils for each other in combinations Dirt had never considered, and might not have any effect if powered. He and the elemental tossed ideas back and forth, making one change each time; it was just like the imagination games he and Socks played, although he was worse at this. Was this elemental truly a child? Did that word even apply here?

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Dirt tried to steer the conversation toward something productive, since he was really starting to get cold up here, but if the little elemental understood, it disagreed. Finally Dirt said, aloud, ¡°Okay, this is fun, but let¡¯s try something else.¡±

    The elemental processed the words as vibrations in the air, which Dirt could see in its mind. He sent a purely mental image of that perception, along with the idea of a question. Something similar had worked on the trees, so maybe?

    The elemental floundered for only a moment before figuring it out. There was a moment of greater clarity, a brightness in its mind that made Dirt wonder if perhaps he¡¯d done something to wake it up. But that faded, and afterward it drew a series of complex symbols, each modifying the others in a dazzling array.

    Dirt worked his way through it, doing his best to decipher what the little wind was saying. That sigil looked like an overlay of ¡®motion¡¯ and ¡®small¡¯ but was its own thing, and soon he realized that was the sigil for ¡®vibration¡¯. As for the others, some of what he saw appeared to have no meaning at all, except for how they fit together. They looked incomplete, but not in a way that anticipated he would have more to add.

    He traced the process with his mind and felt a rhythm there, something familiar, on the edge of recognizability.

    Socks interrupted, -Let me try.- Dirt watched as his mind withdrew from words and concrete thought into a more primal mode, one of impression and sensation and instinct. Something purely wolf, with no human influence at all. Except that wasn¡¯t quite it, because the rhythm of speech, the sounds and cadence of Dirt talking, remained in his mind, but without meaning behind them.

    A new magical array spread before them, Socks interposing his own magic between Dirt and the elemental. The pup was rigid with concentration, ridding himself of most of his ideas of magic. It had been too human, Father had told him. Wolves had different magic and for complicated things, he¡¯d been copying Dirt. Not this time.

    The elemental¡¯s intent became clear, now that he could see what Socks was doing. The little wind had drawn a single pattern that described an entire language at once. Not each word, or even any meaning, but its name in the world of magic. The pattern of it, the process and rhythm. Socks could feel it in a way Dirt couldn¡¯t and spoke it clearly for the elemental to see.

    Dirt understood it now that he could see it in Socks¡¯ mind. That was his language, its name, and it was beautiful. He felt its grammatical accuracy, its ease and fluidity, its stateliness and poetic lyricism, all circumscribed into an expression that no tongue could communicate. He would never forget it. Indeed, if this was all he learned today, it would be worth all the effort.

    He did his best not to admire it too much, though, lest he risk missing something else important. The pup was describing a mind now¡ªDirt¡¯s mind¡ªby imprinting his impressions themselves on the world of magic directly. It caused a dizzying amount of new signs and symbols to flash into being. The mind, Socks said, belonged to the little boy-shape in the air there atop the dome.

    Next to it, Socks drew his own mind, vast and pure and primal, and set the two symbolic constructions together in a way that indicated unity of purpose.

    Then he created a new magical array, one that indicated many humans huddling sheltered below, out of the reach of the wind. But their voices still rose into the air and he depicted the rhythm and sounds of their speech from the perspective of a total outsider, which he was. A different language, the one spoken here, and the one the little elemental had first mentioned. Dirt watched eagerly to see how it differed from or matched his own.

    Then, finally, Socks created an opening and imprinted a language-impression into the two minds he¡¯d drawn, but in an incomplete way. A hollow where a new language needed to go. Give us their tongue, Socks was saying, in the pure processes of magic. After that, down below, the pup gave a tiny whimper as his concentration broke. The magical images vanished. He huffed wearily, the gusts of his breath rippling the clothing of the small crowd.

    The elemental paused, pondering, its mind chasing inscrutable things across the vast winding tunnels of its thought. Then it vanished, winking out of existence entirely. The area settled into a silence that made Dirt¡¯s ears ring.

    He leaned over the edge to look at Socks, but his friend had nothing to say after such intense concentration. The small crowd of humans peered back up at him through the hole in the roof, eyes curious. The little ones on Socks¡¯ head had each grabbed an ear and seemed less scared now.

    Behind him, the sky opened and a new wind rushed out, chill and menacing. It whipped at Dirt, causing his clothes to flutter violently and his eyes to water so bad he had to close them. Before he could look again with his mind-sight and see what it was, a stunning shock of energy lit into him, forcing him rigid. He heard an audible buzzing sound and he lost all sense of balance, even forgetting where he was, and drifted emptily, nearly unconscious.

    Dirt shook himself to keep from falling asleep, but he was on the cold hard ground of the outpost now. Socks licked him back awake, the warm, wet tongue sparking him back into full consciousness.

    ¡°Is he alive?¡± asked an old man, his voice rising from the muttered whisperings of a large crowd.

    ¡°Ow,¡± said Dirt. He tried to sit up and got a splitting, screaming headache for his efforts. ¡°I¡¯m alive, but I wish I wasn¡¯t awake.¡±

    He whimpered in pain as the headache refused to abate. The gasps of the crowd did nothing to alleviate it. He clutched his head and rolled onto his side, moaning.

    -Do you want me to make you go to sleep?- asked Socks.

    ¡°Maybe, if it doesn¡¯t go away soon. This really hurts. Did I fall and crack my skull?¡±

    ¡°Child, did you speak? Can you say that again?¡± asked the old man.

    ¡°Say what again? Oh, I can speak your language now. That¡¯s good. Can you be quiet for a moment?¡± said Dirt.

    -Everyone be quiet,- commanded Socks in the new language, his mental voice filling every head in the outpost.

    Soon enough, the headache abated and Dirt rolled onto his back with a sigh of relief.

    The moment he did, Socks began licking him exuberantly, rejoicing. -We did it!- The little ones atop his head held on for dear life, not knowing that was the safest place they could possibly be.

    Dirt climbed to his feet gingerly, fearful the headache might come back. It did not, thank the Gods. Then he fell onto Socks¡¯ snout and squeezed, giving the pup a giant hug. ¡°We did indeed. How did you figure that out?¡±

    -Only by watching you. I closed off my mind sight and just watched with magic and saw how it felt, and everything you two were saying started to make sense,- said Socks.

    Dirt grinned. ¡°I guess we both learned at the same time, because¡ª¡±

    Before he could finish the thought, the old woman clutched his shoulder with a firm hand to get his attention. ¡°You can speak our language? Why did you not before?¡±

    ¡°Because I couldn¡¯t before, silly. I learned just now by asking the wind,¡± he said. Perhaps he wasn¡¯t being quite fair, but she¡¯d reminded him he was still somewhat angry with their tribe. ¡°What did you think I was doing up there?¡±

    The old woman stared back at him, struggling to find a reply.

    Dirt gave her to the count of three before pushing past her to get to the girl. He didn¡¯t have to squeeze through to get to her, since the crowd parted to let him by. ¡°Hello, Biandina. My name is Dirt. It means dirt in your language. And that is my best friend, Socks. His name means socks, which some people think is funny.¡±

    ¡°Your name is¡­ Dirt?¡±

    ¡°Yep! And I know you think you¡¯re cursed, but you¡¯re probably the second luckiest human alive, because Socks and I were there to save you. How likely do you think that is? Socks is the only wolf anywhere who has a pet human. I doubt anyone else would have thought about saving you, even if they could,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I did something I can¡¯t take back,¡± said Biandina. ¡°Even if you saved me once, it doesn¡¯t change that.¡±

    ¡°You sacrificed a rabbit to the gods. So what? Look at her. Do you think she¡¯s in a position to do anything about it? I did some¡ª, er, I know of someone who did something way, way, worse than that,¡± said Dirt. ¡°And that person is fine.¡±

    ¡°And who would that be?¡± said Biandina¡¯s babbu, stepping between Dirt and three of his children.

    ¡°Probably no one you¡¯ve ever heard of, unless you¡¯ve been to Turicum,¡± said Dirt. ¡°But don¡¯t you have bigger problems? Like that guy I killed? Did you know he was a half-corpse, or was that a surprise?¡±

    ¡°He is the reason¡ª!¡± began the old woman.

    Socks interrupted her, saying, -Do not raise your voice at my little Dirt when he has done nothing wrong.-

    To her credit, she exhaled and calmed down. Then she said, ¡°I apologize, great one. Corruptions like Iliaru are the reason she must leave. She begged the Murderous Lady for strength and will soon end up like him. We are fortunate we caught her before she turned into¡­ that.¡±

    Dirt nodded. ¡°Well, first off, that statue is Melodia, the mistress of song, not the Murderous Lady. And second, the gods are gone from the world. I have that on good authority. So begging her won¡¯t get you anything, good or bad. And third, there aren¡¯t enough humans left in the world to just throw one away, when she seems perfectly fine to me. And let¡¯s be honest, after that thing with the skeleton, you¡¯re not in a position to be criticizing anybody.¡±

    ¡°No, Dirt, Gnese is right. I saw it,¡± said Biandina, eyes downcast and feigned courage in her voice. She looked up and continued, ¡°I thought maybe¡­ I just wanted¡­ I knew what would happen, but¡­ I know something saw me. I know it did. That¡¯s why I confessed instead of hiding. I need to leave. I need to die.¡± The last word came out a whisper.

    Her siblings¡¯ faces were ashen and fearful, the same misery that Dirt saw on so many others. Stoic, perhaps, but suffering.

    Dirt asked, ¡°What did you see?¡± Was Melodia not truly gone? Did he dare get his hopes up?

    She pointed at the hole in the ceiling and said, ¡°The moment the rabbit¡¯s blood touched her feet, I looked up and saw a¡­ giant eye. It was right up there, through the hole. Then it blinked itself away, leaving empty sky.¡±

    Socks raised his head and looked at Dirt. Dirt looked back. Both of them were thinking the same thing.

    ¡°What? Are you two talking again?¡± asked Biandina.

    ¡°No. But I guess I was wrong. I guess it is a big deal,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Maybe one of the worst possible things you could have done.¡±

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 22

    Dirt¡¯s agreement made Biandina wilt just a bit further, which Dirt regretted since he¡¯d been kidding. Sort of. She avoided the gazes of the children clinging to her and said, ¡°I can feel that eye up there in the sky, watching me always. Even right now. I know it¡¯s there.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± said Dirt.

    -It¡¯s not,- said Socks. -We can tell and it is not in the sky.-

    Dirt felt bad, so he stepped over and patted her on the shoulder. ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, I would never have guessed that would happen either, and I have seen a lot of things.¡±

    Socks perked his ears up a bit and said, -I wonder, humans. Why do you tell your progeny about this, if you don¡¯t want them to do it anymore? The wise thing would be to forget entirely. No one would invent the idea of sacrificing an animal if no one told them about doing that.-

    Biandina¡¯s babbu answered, ¡°Because we sacrifice to other things. The sky and wind, the earth and water. Our ancestors. We tell our children they must never sacrifice to any gods.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± asked Dirt. ¡°Do you think they¡¯re bad?¡±

    ¡°They are the Seven Destroyers,¡± answered the old man. ¡°The ones who bring nothing but calamity and suffering. They cannot be slain, but they are not part of the true order, and that is why they are gods.¡±

    ¡°Seven Destroyers? What are you talking about?¡± Dirt asked.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you answer that, girl?¡± said the old woman. She kept glancing back at the empty treasury and the mummy dust left by its inhabitant, and from the set of her shoulders it looked to Dirt like she was trying to direct attention away from it.

    Biandina swallowed in embarrassment and said, ¡°The seven gods are the whirlwind that eradicates, the wildfire that consumes, the blizzard that buries, the earthquake that shatters, the lightning that stops the heart, the hail that destroys, and finally, the murderer in the shape of a woman, who gives birth to death.¡±

    ¡°To them you must never sacrifice, for they regard only wickedness and deliver only misery,¡± said the old woman.

    ¡°That¡¯s a list, not an explanation. So they¡¯re elementals, I guess? Like the wind?¡± said Dirt, growing more confused. Why would they think a god was a storm, instead of a being great enough to create one? And the gods weren¡¯t evil, they were¡­ He paused. In his heart, he felt the old rumblings of piety and worship, but those feelings had no object and never explained themselves. The gods couldn¡¯t be evil, though. That was ridiculous.

    The old man gave him a tired look, one with some anger behind it, and said, ¡°The gods are the gods. You¡¯ll know them when you see them. Other than this one, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°No, I recognize a god. I just don¡¯t think you have the right idea about her,¡± said Dirt. If they were evil, he wouldn¡¯t feel such yearning for them. He recognized Melodia, even in this state, and they did not. That was all there was to it. But if sacrificing to them caught the attention of that thing in the sky, then their beliefs were wrong but certainly not foolish.

    Socks said, just to him, -Are you sure they¡¯re wrong? Are you sure it¡¯s not a god up there? Something happened to them, after all. Maybe it made them harmful. Like what happened to the Devourer.-

    Dirt felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold air drifting down from the hole in the dome. The very idea that something as great and marvelous as a god could turn into something like the Eye was too horrific to contemplate. Even considering it felt like blasphemy.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t make the gods evil, Socks,¡± said Dirt, trying to convince himself more than Socks. His fingertips trembled against the cloth of his pants and he clenched his forearms to make them stop. ¡°That can¡¯t be right. They used to help and protect mankind, so they couldn¡¯t... well¡­¡±

    -It was just a thought. Do not be upset, little Dirt. There is no way for us to find out right now, so you don¡¯t have to think that if you don¡¯t want to. Someday we will learn the truth and you can believe that instead,- said Socks. He sent Dirt a puff of warm reassurance, and it helped.

    Dirt cleared his throat and said aloud, ¡°Actually, Socks and I know what that eye is that Biandina saw. We fought it once, but I can¡¯t say we won, exactly. I think it just gave up and left. The Father of Wolves called it the Great Enemy of Mankind. We just call it the Eye, even though it¡¯s a lot more than just an eye. It wants to get rid of every human. Eradicate us.¡±

    ¡°What you are saying is not too far off from the truth,¡± said the old woman. Gnese, if Dirt remembered what Biandina had called her. Gnese. ¡°It is the Murderous Lady, and like all the gods, she takes many forms. Some she kills directly, but often she corrupts and watches for harm to be done.¡±

    Dirt tried to keep from scowling and probably failed. He was never going to win the argument about Melodia. And frankly, he was afraid he was wrong and it was her. What she had become.

    Socks said, --Want me to get rid of the statue? I can carry it away and smash it, and then no one could sacrifice to it.-

    Gnese, the old woman, replied, unsuccessfully swallowing the sharpness on her tongue. ¡°We can¡¯t get rid of it. We¡¯ve tried.¡±

    The old man said, ¡°Our tribe has been here for thousands of years. I could tell you the names of a hundred generations of my fathers, most of whom dwelled right here between these walls. All of them have wished to be rid of the burden of its presence. If there was any way to be rid of the Murderous Lady, we would have found it.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± said Dirt, pausing to reformulate his question and not seem like a dullard, ¡°what happens when someone tries to break it apart and carry away the pieces?¡±

    Gnese answered, ¡°She returns to her place during the night, in the first moment no one is watching, perfectly whole and reformed, with no hint of a crack in the stone. We have tried everything.¡±

    ¡°Wait, really? If you break her all up and carry the pieces away, she just reappears when no one is looking? And I guess you tried having someone watch and it only worked for so long.¡±

    ¡°That is correct,¡± said Gnese. ¡°We have an old story about a family who was tasked with watching the plinth night and day. They made it a year.¡±

    -Then why not dig yourselves a new den somewhere else?- asked Socks.

    ¡°Even with her there, there is nowhere safer than here,¡± said the old man.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dirt. From what he¡¯d seen of the rest of the world, he could believe that was the case. If nothing else, the netting would keep the birds from carrying people away.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    -I have a question and then I will move so people can use the doorway. Why did you do it, Biandina? What did you want from the goddess?- asked Socks, turning his head slightly to fix his fearsome yellow eyes on her.

    The room went silent and Dirt wondered whether it was because they all knew and it was shameful, or because they didn¡¯t. The silence was long enough that Dirt started glancing in random minds nearby and it turned out, almost no one knew. He held his breath in anticipation right along with the rest of them.

    Biandina hesitated to answer. ¡°I¡­¡± She looked at her father.

    ¡°We really should not say, great one,¡± said the babbu.

    --Answer or I will pry it from your minds,- said Socks, sternly.

    ¡°Can he do that?¡± whispered Biandina, mostly toward Dirt.

    ¡°Yep, easily.¡± In fact¡­ ¡°You already know, don¡¯t you?¡± said Dirt, just to Socks.

    -Yes. You will think it is interesting,- replied the pup, with just a hint of a twitch in his ears. Dirt was sure that on the other side of the door, Socks was wagging his tail.

    Babbu was close enough to hear Dirt¡¯s reply, of course, and he swallowed dryness then answered with hesitation in his voice. ¡°A rucca carried off her brother several weeks ago, before the first storm. I told her we could not send out the riders to bring him back and she did not forgive me. She sacrificed to the Lady for revenge. For power to kill the rucche.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a rucca?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Rucche are the great birds that you rescued her from,¡± said the babbu, as if admitting to a crime.

    Dirt¡¯s eyes widened as he realized why they didn¡¯t want to say. The sacrifice had worked! Out of nowhere, Socks and Dirt had come along and not only rescued Biandina, but killed the bird that took her and all the ones that shared its nest. Her brother¡¯s bones might be among the others they¡¯d seen.

    Not only that, but now Socks had told everyone about killing the rucche. The leaders must have thrown her out before anyone discovered her intent, and that was why none of the adults involved were happy to see her again. Sometimes the sacrifices worked.

    That recognition seemed to change everything. He had a million more questions now, none of which they were likely to get answered. What sorts of requests did the ¡®Murderous Lady¡¯ grant, and how often? Was there any sort of pattern that they knew? Did it always attract the attention of the Eye? What specific harms could result from such a sacrifice? Did something bad always happen to the supplicant? Or was it secretly banned because bad things often happened to others, at the supplicant¡¯s request? Dirt had no idea what to make of it, and Socks didn¡¯t weigh in either.

    The same realization¡ªthat Biandina¡¯s sacrifice had worked¡ªspread through the crowd. Dirt could watch their faces and see each person figure it out. No one spoke, not even the little ones. He looked at the statue, wounded and suffering, standing silently above them all, mere ancient stone. Melodia¡­

    ¡°All we are waiting for now is the disaster she called down. She must leave before it finds her,¡± said the old man. He seemed pale now; frail, after so many terrors had come and gone in a few short hours.

    Dirt expected everyone to start talking all at once, making sure their neighbors all had the same realization, but they didn¡¯t. No one spoke, and when Dirt glanced at Socks¡¯ mind, the pup smelled the twin scents of awe and horror.

    With nothing left to discuss, Socks finally pulled his head out of the doorway and a new crowd of people tried to push their way in. Some peered around like they were simply curious, but one of them was Biandina¡¯s mother, who rolled through the crowd like a boulder until she made it to her brood. The infant in one arm limited how much she could do, but with her spare arm, she tried to shoo the rest away from their sister. They refused to comply, and she gave a mean glance at her mate, who stood by and didn¡¯t help.

    With the new crowd came a hundred questions, not all of them quiet. The old man and woman glared around, but not convincingly; too many people had seen their terror and helplessness during the fight earlier. The rumor broke like water from a dam and the room quickly filled with speech and commotion.

    ¡°How long will you be staying?¡± asked the old man over the sound of the crowd. His tone of voice conveyed that he hoped it would not be very long.

    ¡°We should probably stay for a few days so that if anything dangerous comes around, Socks and I can kill it for you,¡± said Dirt, pretending not to catch his intent. ¡°Oh, you should probably burn that dead body instead of burying it. You can guess why.¡±

    ¡°It is not easy to spare so much wood,¡± said the old man.

    ¡°Then carry him out and Socks can burn him later.¡±

    ¡°Do not ask us for wood. We must spare it for the coldest nights.¡±

    ¡°Socks can make fire with magic. We won¡¯t need any wood,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Then burn those clothes. The blood of the corrupted can cause disease, even if you wash them,¡± said the old man.

    ¡°But I don¡¯t have anything else to wear,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Then go naked! It¡¯s not my problem. I am simply warning you. Do as you wish,¡± said the old man, almost succeeding at not raising his voice. And with that, he joined the throng pressing their way back out the door.

    Dirt pulled his shirt off, kicked off his leather shoes, and then removed his pants. He tossed shirt and pants on the dead body and examined his shoes. They were blood-free, so he put them back on. His actions caught a few surprised glances, but he paid them no mind. They¡¯d probably stare no matter what he did, and it was too late to worry about fitting in and acting like a regular human. Ideally, he¡¯d be able to get some of their clothes somehow. Those furs looked plenty warm. Even the thick woolen clothing they wore inside was warmer than what he¡¯d owned.

    He summoned a few embers to float nearby and keep him warm, then went back to Biandina¡¯s family. The older children, the boy and the girl closest to her age, gave Dirt sideways grins that looked slightly embarrassed, but the younger children furrowed their brows in concern. Dirt found the mind of the girl named Eudossia, who¡¯d first snuck in to find her sister, and she was mostly concerned that Dirt would be cold. He stood a little closer to her and held one hand up, then made an ember hover over it. He showed it to her and let her feel the warmth on her face, and all seven of the other children leaned in to inspect it themselves.

    ¡°As long as it¡¯s not windy and I¡¯m not wet, I won¡¯t get cold. I should probably wash all this blood off, though,¡± said Dirt, taking note of how much had seeped through to stain his skin. ¡°Does anyone know where I can get a rag?¡±

    The mother and father ceased their angry, whispered conversation and looked over at him. He stood so naturally amidst their offspring that they weren¡¯t sure what to say.

    ¡°And some water. But I already know where I can find some of that,¡± said Dirt.

    The babbu gave a resigned sigh and scratched his beard, putting on body language of relaxing, ceasing his wariness. He said, ¡°Are you one of ours, now?¡±

    Dirt grinned. ¡°No, not unless you can beat Socks.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your plan, then?¡±

    ¡°Well, first, I need to wash off. But after that, I¡¯d like to come see your house and learn all your names, if you¡¯ll have me,¡± said Dirt.

    The mother had not softened in the slightest. Her face was still hard as flint. ¡°We don¡¯t have room,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh, Socks will have to stay out, obviously, but he won¡¯t mind. He can see through walls. When he gets bored, I¡¯ll leave you alone and go do something else for a while,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°The girl is not welcome back,¡± said the mother, with finality in her voice. ¡°Do not toy with us like this.¡±

    ¡°What makes you think I¡¯m toying with you?¡±

    ¡°You take after your wolf. Find a curiosity, sniff at it, poke it, maybe dig a little hole, and then move along without any mind for the mess you¡¯ve made,¡± she said. ¡°We have to live here. My daughter is dead. She died the day she prayed to the Murderous Lady. Do you think to just leave her in our arms and all will be well? Go run along, little boy.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s alive. She¡¯s right there, face pale as ashes and heart so full of guilt she might just die of nothing. Look at her,¡± said Dirt, pointing.

    The mother stared down at him and did not look.

    He pointed more insistently and the woman just stared even harder, widening her forceful eyes. Dirt, who had once deliberately met the eyes of the Mother of Wolves, was not intimidated.

    They stared and stared at each other, long past when it made everyone else uncomfortable. Dirt had to admit she had a respectable amount of willpower, but he was Avitus.

    Eventually, she looked away first, even glancing involuntarily at her daughter. She said, ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing. But fine. Come visit. She may come as well. We still have her things and perhaps she¡¯ll need them.¡±

    Dirt nodded and said, ¡°Thanks. And don¡¯t worry too much. I know what I¡¯m doing, it¡¯s you who doesn¡¯t. But maybe once you do, you¡¯ll feel better about it.¡±

    -Come out of there already,- said Socks, leaning down to peer through the doorway with one eye. -I will lick you clean.-

    Dirt smiled at the woman, whose face still failed to soften. He said, ¡°Guess I¡¯d better go.¡±

    ¡°Because he¡¯s terrifying and you have to obey him?¡±

    ¡°No, silly, because he¡¯s my best friend.¡±

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 23

    Socks gave him a thorough licking to make sure all of him was clean, which left the familiar film of dry saliva all over him. After that, he followed Biandina¡¯s family out to where they lived, about halfway through the mass of tents toward the wall.

    They lived like everyone else in their tribe: in an unstable tent supported by shaved strips of bone tied together to make longer poles. Wood truly did seem scarce, which Dirt should have expected after seeing so much flat landscape. It wasn¡¯t like there was none at all; just that things he expected to be wooden often weren¡¯t.

    The tent was tall enough for the adults to walk in without ducking, and the flap that served as a door was tied to the interior ceiling. The covering that made up the tent was a mixture of leather and cloth, but striped and deliberate instead of patchy and random, giving it at least that much appearance of civilization. Patterns of green, red, and white colored all of it, so at least it wasn¡¯t plain.

    Socks chose to rest nearby and chat with the swarm of curious onlookers rather than stand and peek in through the light-holes in the tent roof, so with nothing else to sort out, Dirt removed his shoes, set them near the pile, and was the last to enter.

    It was almost dark inside, so the first thing he did was snap his fingers to make a light, which he made hover in the center, near the top. He also summoned another couple embers to warm the tent up quicker.

    The inside felt roomier and more comfortable than he expected. A rich carpet of furs covered the entirety of the stone floor, several layers deep and soft. Woven baskets hung by coarse threads tied to the frame and contained whatever a family like this kept handy. Food, extra clothing, and tools. Stuff like that, judging by what Dirt could see from this angle. Half of the baskets were up out of his reach, and since at least four of the children were younger than him, that made sense. They probably put the oil up there, or the knives.

    The children were much better behaved than a den full of pups. They sat calmly instead of running around and fighting and causing chaos like he¡¯d expected. There was no room next to Biandina, since her siblings sat protectively close to her, and the littlest one climbed into her lap. Dirt sat near the boy who looked closest to his own age. They sat somewhat in a circle, and it looked like the room had been arranged that way. Everyone had their own spot with their own bedding, although it looked like most of it was shared. As it should be, especially in winter.

    Eight children, one infant, and two adults wore varied expressions, either staring at Dirt, peering up at his magical light, or watching the magical embers lazily float around and warm up the tent. Even with so much ventilation, the temperature was quickly becoming bearable.

    Dirt settled in and looked around, wondering what was going to happen next. No one said anything, so he spoke first. ¡°I guess you already know, but my name is Dirt. The Mother of Wolves says I¡¯m eight years old. Socks named me Dirt because when he found me, I was covered from head to toe in dirt. Dirt means ¡®dirt¡¯ in my language. Some people laugh, but I like it. I was born in a forest of trees that go all the way up to the sky, and they¡¯re alive and can turn into people called dryads. This is a part of one of them, named Home,¡± he said, holding up the arm with the brace on it. ¡°She was the first tree I made friends with, but Socks was my first friend overall. He was the first thing I ever talked to.¡±

    He paused, not sure what else to say, and no one jumped in to get things going. They looked at him and each other silently. The children curious and nervous, the mother stony and mad. The father scowled, but Dirt got the impression he was more conflicted than angry.

    Dirt said, ¡°I guess I can tell you stories, because Socks didn¡¯t tell everything earlier. But first I want to hear all your names. And can you tell me something about yourself? Anything at all. I¡¯ve spent, maybe, ten or fifteen days around humans in my whole life.¡±

    Biandina nodded, seeming happier already. There was still tightness in her lips and posture, but the frown was gone and her eyes had lost their despair. ¡°I¡¯ll go first. Let¡¯s go oldest to youngest. We had an older brother, Prosperu, but he was taken by the rucche. I¡¯m Biandina, and I¡¯m in my fifteenth year, and¡­¡±

    She bit her lip and glanced down. She had no idea what to say about herself, poor thing, now that she was an outcast.

    Her father said, ¡°When she was a little girl, she found a snake and picked it right up, then carried it around showing everybody. It was deadly venomous, and no one dared get close enough to snatch it away from her. It caused quite a panic. We didn¡¯t want to scare her in case she dropped it or let it bite her. She finally took it outside and put it down, and it slithered away.¡± He had a hint of warmth in his eyes that faded as soon as he was done speaking.

    ¡°I¡¯m Antelmu, and I¡¯m in my thirteenth year,¡± said the oldest of the boys, a muscular lad with the same build as his father, but not the beard. ¡°I already broke my own colt. We¡¯re not going to geld him because he¡¯s even handsomer than his sire. His name is Boulder.¡±

    Dirt nodded, smiling slightly. ¡°I¡¯d like to meet him,¡± he said, honestly. He had seen horses, but never really interacted with them. Socks scared them too much and Dirt had been too busy to seek them out anyway.

    ¡°I¡¯m Lavisa and I¡¯m in my twelfth year,¡± said the next girl. Her hair was darker than the rest, closer to black than the brown of the rest of the children, and she wore it pulled back tight. ¡°I¡¯m the best dancer in the family.¡±

    Mother almost¡ªalmost¡ªcracked a smile at that. She had to force it back. Dirt saw her twitch and he could tell.

    ¡°I¡¯m Gnaziu,¡± said a boy with neat clothing and combed hair. ¡°I¡¯m in my tenth year. I made my own bow. Do you wanna see it?¡±

    ¡°I do. I¡¯ve never shot one. Is there a trick to it?¡±

    ¡°Just show him,¡± said the mother, her voice flat. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot it in here. Don¡¯t even pretend.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± said the boy, fake annoyance in his voice. He stood and took a bow off a hook, which Dirt hadn¡¯t noticed before. Now that he looked, there were several more like it, and quivers of arrows as well. This one was as long as the boy¡¯s torso and decorated with feathers at the top and bottom. ¡°I found the wood myself, and the bones on the end for the notching were carved from a ragnul¨¬.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a ragnul¨¬?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°It¡¯s those big dog-beasts with the arched backs,¡± said Gnaziu.

    ¡°Oh, Socks smelled some of those, but I didn¡¯t see them,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I like that bow. It looks great. And you know what? Your name sounds like Ignasi, who is one of the first humans I ever met. He¡¯s a Camayan. And in my language, that name is Ignatius. That makes it a very, very old name.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± asked the father.

    ¡°My language is the oldest one, and every other language descended from it. I¡¯m probably the only person who speaks it anymore,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°How can you possibly know that, if you don¡¯t know any other humans?¡± asked Antelmu, the 12-year-old.

    Dirt grinned mischievously and said, ¡°Let¡¯s save the other stories until we¡¯re done. Who¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°Me,¡± said a girl shyer than the others, about his same size. Maybe just a little younger, but it was hard to tell. She watched him steadily, but with clear distrust. ¡°I¡¯m Lisea, and I¡¯m in my eighth year. I have a cat.¡±

    ¡°You have a cat?¡± asked Dirt, almost standing. ¡°Can I see it?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not here right now, but she¡¯ll come back later,¡± said Lisea.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a cat, even though Socks has smelled them. The trees teased me once saying I¡¯ll learn about cats when I¡¯m ready. I told Socks that and now he won¡¯t show me what they are either. It¡¯s a little animal, right?¡±

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    The shy girl cracked a smile and didn¡¯t say anything. After she saw Dirt¡¯s exaggerated disappointment, she giggled.

    ¡°Your turn,¡± said Biandina, nodding at Eudossia, whose name he¡¯d learned earlier.

    The squirrely little girl loudly whispered, ¡°What do I say?¡±

    ¡°Your name and how old you are,¡± replied three different children.

    ¡°I¡¯m Eudossia and I¡¯m in my sixth year,¡± she said. She clamped her mouth shut and acted shy, indicating she was done.

    ¡°She likes to sing, especially at night when I¡¯m trying to sleep,¡± said Lavisa, the 11-year-old girl.

    Everyone ignored that.

    ¡°This is Miliu. He¡¯s in his sixth year. Say hello, Miliu,¡± said the father.

    ¡°Hello,¡± said the little boy. ¡°How come you¡¯re naked?¡±

    The whole family reacted, some shifting nervously, others grinning. One girl shooshed the little boy like he¡¯d done something improper. Dirt said, ¡°The old people said I had to burn my clothes and I don¡¯t have any more with me. But I¡¯m used to it. I spent most of my life like this.¡±

    The boy he was sitting next to, Gnaziu, said, ¡°Do you want to borrow something? Nobody goes naked inside the walls.¡±

    Dirt nodded. ¡°If you have anything, sure. I¡¯ll give it back before I leave, unless I think of something good to trade for it.¡± Judging from how they lived, Dirt didn¡¯t think they had much to spare. Lisea, the next youngest girl, would probably be wearing anything Gnaziu grew out of.

    Gnaziu stood up and dug under the skins for a bundle of cloth, all rolled up. It was a thick woolen pair of pants, much like he had on now, except those were baggy and rolled up on the cuffs for him to grow into. The ones Dirt stood and put on was a bit tight, even though Dirt was a bit smaller. He immediately felt warmer, and when Gnaziu handed him a long woolen shirt to go with it, he wondered if he should make one of his embers wink out.

    ¡°What kind of stuff would you want to trade for this?¡± Dirt asked, adjusting the shirt. It was a little tight as well, but it would do for now. If it had been warmer, he might have declined.

    Gnaziu said, ¡°Um, wood, or meat, or good bones. Arrows. Anything silver. Or other clothes, maybe.¡±

    The father said, ¡°Those are too small for you. If you think of anything to trade, we¡¯ll find you bigger ones.¡±

    The youngest boy climbed off Biandina¡¯s lap and started pulling off his long woolen gown. ¡°Oh, no you don¡¯t,¡± she said, trying to prevent him. The child laughed and struggled to get away.

    ¡°That is Oraziu,¡± said the father, gesturing at squirming, noisy boy. ¡°He¡¯s in his fourth year, but only barely.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s cute,¡± said Dirt.

    Little Oraziu shrieked in dismay and said ¡°No! My do it!¡± as he squirmed and tried to get free of Biandina¡¯s interference. Finally, she let him go and he got his gown almost off, up around his head, before one of the other girls grabbed him. Dirt chose not to comment, preferring instead to watch the battle and see who ended up winning.

    ¡°What¡¯s the infant¡¯s name? Is it a boy or a girl?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a girl, and we haven¡¯t named her yet,¡± said the father.

    ¡°Just don¡¯t name her Prisca,¡± said Dirt, wishing Socks was around to share in the joke. Judging from the shrieks and laughter he heard outside, the pup was enjoying himself.

    ¡°I know of a Priscilla, but no Priscas,¡± said the father. ¡°What¡¯s a Prisca?¡±

    ¡°She was a magical skeleton who tried to kill me,¡± said Dirt. Every member of the family glanced at Dirt, wondering if they¡¯d heard correctly. Except for little Oraziu, who struggled his way free again and ran to the other side of the tent, where he resumed pulling off his gown with a look of pure enjoyment on his chubby face.

    -Dirt, there is a crying infant nearby and it is his mouth that hurts. Go see if you can help him,- said Socks, just to him.

    He looked again at the minds nearby, picking out the children easily. Adult minds had more thoughts, but children had more light in them, and Dirt¡¯s best guess was that it was their spirits waiting for their brains to grow in. The infants were the clearest, just impressions, a single sight or smell or touch at a time, although their emotions were just as vivid as anyone else¡¯s.

    One infant was sleeping, and that must be the girl in the tent. Another was resting and tasting milk, so that wasn¡¯t the one Socks meant. Dirt looked around until he found it¡ªa tiny boy who was screaming and thinking of nothing but inescapable pain, coming from his tongue.

    Dirt got up and said, ¡°I¡¯ll be right back. Socks found a crying baby he wants me to go check on.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll come with,¡± said Gnaziu.

    ¡°Me too,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°And me,¡± said Antelmu, the oldest boy. Once that was declared, all five of the others wanted to come, except for Orazui, who was now moaning about being unable to get his gown up over his head. It was stuck around his neck, and he fell over.

    Dirt led the procession out to where Socks was, only to find about fifty children of all ages crowding around him. Some were petting him, others trying to climb up, and a handful more were laughing and shrieking at the top of their lungs as Socks held them all a few feet off the ground. Dirt sent the pup a puff of amusement and affection, then asked, ¡°I don¡¯t hear it. Which way?¡±

    Socks gave him the direction and he squeezed first through the crowd, then between the tents and shacks until he heard it himself. The poor baby¡¯s cries were ragged and weary and Dirt hurried as fast as he could go without using mana, so the others could keep up.

    He slid into the tent without asking first and found a lonely mother with tears streaming down her face, holding her offspring and rocking, at a total loss of what to do.

    ¡°Hello,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Can I see him?¡± In came the rest of the children.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Dirt. And I want to look at his mouth,¡± said Dirt. He stepped over as politely as he could and looked in. It was a normal baby mouth, with four handsome little teeth.

    ¡°Whose child are you? Did someone send you? I could use some water, if you want to help,¡± said the mother. She was young, now that Dirt got a good look at her. This was probably her first.

    Dirt said, ¡°I guess you missed all the excitement. I came with the wolf.¡±

    Then, instead of waiting for her to say anything else, Dirt lifted the tiny boy¡¯s tongue up with a finger and examined it. Right away he saw the problem. A briar. The little one had a small briar under his tongue. Dirt pulled it out and the baby stopped crying almost immediately.

    Dirt held it up and showed the mother, whose eyes widened in surprise. ¡°That was all? He¡¯s been crying all day!¡±

    He checked all the adult minds until he found hers, which only took a moment. She was thinking over and over, ¡°I¡¯m such a terrible mother, why didn¡¯t I check?¡± Things like that. She was relieved and yet, at the same time, somehow felt even worse.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a terrible mother,¡± said Dirt, patting her on the head. ¡°I bet you won¡¯t even eat him if he¡¯s weak. Do you want to keep the briar?¡±

    ¡°What? No, please get it out of my tent. Who are you again?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Dirt. Maybe I¡¯ll come visit you later. You probably both need a nap,¡± he said. He handed Lisea the briar, since she was the closest, and stepped back out.

    He ran all the way back to Socks, quite pleased with everything, and when he got there, the pup had a new task for him. There was a youth who had dropped an arrowhead into a crack between the paving stones and couldn¡¯t get it out. Socks had heard the scratching of his attempts to fish it out.

    Dirt found him and peered down into the crack, then simply yanked the arrowhead out with his mind and snatched it from the air, then handed it to the started young man. ¡°Are there any more, or just that one?¡± Dirt asked.

    ¡°Just that one. Who¡­?¡± The young man sat up, confused.

    Dirt turned to Biandina and said, ¡°I bet no one is going to recognize me without my old clothes. I look like one of you now, except my hair is darker than average.¡±

    ¡°You really don¡¯t look like one of us,¡± she said. But Dirt just smiled and made his way back to Socks, parade of children following behind him.

    Socks sent him on all sorts of errands after that, which Dirt thoroughly enjoyed. He helped a very surprised man lift a heavy barrel back onto a shelf. A child Oraziu¡¯s age was fighting her parents, who wanted her to take a nap because she was sick and had slept poorly, and they were all exhausted. Dirt pushed her mind to sleep very, very gently.

    He found a tent with an old couple, older than the elders, who were shivering and unable to keep warm. With his knife, Dirt scrawled a heating sigil into the stone beneath their furs and filled it with mana, enough to last a day or two. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it didn¡¯t have to be. No one but him could refill it anyway.

    Biandina and her siblings were quite impressed by all of it, and they followed with eager eyes, taking in miracle after miracle. Dirt could tell they were warming up to him. Standing a bit closer, smiling more, things like that.

    They even let him feed the horses, and Gnaziu¡¯s horse was indeed quite handsome, a shiny brown color that Dirt honestly couldn¡¯t tell apart from any others. He had no idea what he was looking at, but Gnaziu was quite proud, so that was enough for Dirt.

    After running out of helpful things to do, Dirt made his way back to Socks. He sat under the pup¡¯s neck, next to his paw. The crowd of children were still taking turns being lifted up, except now they all wanted to go high enough to touch the netting. The parents were less enthused about it, with many of them standing around to watch, but no one had been hurt yet, and no one wanted to offend the giant wolf.

    -I think every human den needs a Dirt,- said Socks. -You are very helpful. But they cannot have you. You are mine. They¡¯ll have to find their own.--

    Dirt sent him a puff of amusement. ¡°Too bad I don¡¯t have a good way to teach them any magic. I wonder if we should find one child, just one, and you could open his mind like you did to me, so he can read thoughts.¡±

    -It would not be hard, but that would only be helpful sometimes.-

    ¡°And I¡¯m still not sure how people would react. No one knows I can do it. I don¡¯t know if it would make them afraid, or glad,¡± said Dirt.

    -Maybe we could ask the elders. We wouldn¡¯t have to tell anyone else,- said Socks.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea. Do you know where they are?¡±

    Socks sent Dirt a mental image of ghost sight, just a portion, that showed the two elders still back in the Aedes, alone with each other. It looked like they were deep in conversation. Dirt got up and told Biandina and her siblings, ¡°Stay here with Socks for a moment. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± he said.

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 24

    It wasn¡¯t a long walk back to the Principia, but word was starting to get around what Dirt had been up to, so eyes followed him everywhere. It seemed to him that most people didn¡¯t recognize him, even though his hair was darker than nearly everyone else¡¯s. He was in their clothes, and hadn¡¯t been when he got here, so that was probably why. And even though the population was far lower than Ogena, there were still hundreds of children here. Too many to keep track of.

    He waved and smiled at them as he passed, which gave it away, but he hurried along into the Principia all the same. Once inside, he wondered why the tents were nicer in here, under the ancient roof where it would be dark day and night, like it was now. He understood wanting to have a roof over his head, but it would be like living completely underground. Perhaps they liked it because it kept the rain off. So how did they decide who got to live here? He¡¯d have to ask later.

    They hadn¡¯t yet replaced the heavy wooden frame that blocked the entrance to the Aedes, fortunately, and Dirt walked right in.

    The two old people were standing over the corpse, which had been draped with a cloth, and discussing between each other in hushed tones. They held wet washcloths in their hands and judging by the wooden bucket at their feet and the greatly diminished bloodstain, they had been cleaning. No one else was in here besides them. Dirt suspected that typically, no one was allowed in, and they were the ones who decided. They looked over as he entered and gave him unpleasant glares.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to interrupt, but I have a quick question for you,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I know Gnese¡¯s name, but not yours. That¡¯s not the question, though.¡±

    The old man¡¯s face stayed cold, but he answered. ¡°Fidelu.¡±

    ¡°Fidelu. That¡¯s another old name. Huh. Thanks. Well, the question is, you know how Socks can see your thoughts, and that¡¯s how you were talking to him at first? What would happen if a human in your tribe suddenly learned how to do that? Hear people¡¯s thoughts,¡± said Dirt. He stood awkwardly, not sure what posture he should take. He landed somewhere between friendly and dignified, he hoped.

    The answer was not quick in coming. Dirt watched as they thought it over, glaring at him all the while. They glanced at each other, then back at Dirt.

    ¡°What are you saying?¡± said Gnese, carefully.

    Dirt¡¯s eyes went to the uncovered treasury. The corpse dust in front of it had already been swept up and disposed of. Melodia herself stood suffering, just as she¡¯d been before.

    He hadn¡¯t spent much time thinking over what he¡¯d seen in their minds earlier. That man they killed and threw in there, and the guilt they felt about it all these years later. The fear that memory still caused them. Dirt had just observed the killing as a thing that had happened, and assumed there must have been a good reason. But that wasn¡¯t necessarily the case, was it? Humans didn¡¯t kill each other very often, did they? The word for that was murder.

    Dirt¡¯s lack of a quick answer made them both grow more hostile in the set of their shoulders. Their faces hardened, but the sense Dirt got was more of fear than anger. He wondered if he should find their minds; it wouldn¡¯t be too difficult. But that might give away something he wasn¡¯t ready to reveal yet.

    ¡°What am I saying? I was just thinking about it,¡± said Dirt, trying to sound oblivious. ¡°I¡¯m curious what would happen if a normal human, just some random person, suddenly started to know everyone¡¯s thoughts. I¡¯m asking you because you¡¯re the elders so you must know the most. So how would they be treated? What would happen to them?¡±

    ¡°That person would never be trusted,¡± said Fidelu hastily.

    ¡°Why not? It can be really handy, if, for example, you want to know why a baby is crying. Wouldn¡¯t people be happy?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°That would be useful, but there¡¯s more to it than that,¡± said Gnese.

    ¡°Like what?¡± asked Dirt. He¡¯d expected this, honestly, but it was still disappointing. Humans were naturally wary and skittish, but he¡¯d been hoping for a different reaction.

    Fidelu got his wariness under control and let his face and posture smooth out into something more grandfatherly. He stepped a little closer to Dirt and put on a warmer half-smile. ¡°My boy, have you ever made a mistake?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Sure, probably. Like what?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what. But as you grow, you will find yourself making more and more of them. Some will be big mistakes, and some will be small. Let me explain it this way. That wolf is your only friend, right?¡± asked Fidelu.

    Gnese had picked up on the change of tone and lost all the harshness in her demeanor as well. Dirt did his best not to let on he knew they were putting on airs, since he was interested in their explanation.

    ¡°No, he¡¯s not my only friend at all. I have a bunch of friends that are trees, and some humans. My best human friend is M¨¤xim, the Duke¡¯s son from Ogena,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Fine. Good. So imagine that one day, you got angry with M¨¤xim and said something cruel to him. Something truly unacceptable, and then, because you are human and we all make mistakes, you didn¡¯t apologize. And it got worse and worse, until you weren¡¯t friends anymore. Now, I¡¯m sure that won¡¯t happen, but imagine with me for a moment, hmm?¡± said Fidelu.

    ¡°Okay,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°You have done something that he will not forgive, and now you are no longer friends. You regret what you did, and you know it was your fault, but it is too late,¡± said Fidelu.

    Even though the situation was imaginary and extremely unlikely, Dirt found himself bothered by it. He briefly pictured an angry M¨¤xim telling Dirt never to talk to him again and didn¡¯t like it. Dirt had to admit they were good at teaching.

    ¡°Now let¡¯s take a step back. Suppose that instead of saying those cruel things, you only thought about saying them. But you realized that it would be horrible to say them and what M¨¤xim would think, so you didn¡¯t. In fact, you didn¡¯t even really mean those things, so you¡¯re glad you didn¡¯t say them,¡± said Fidelu. ¡°Instead of a disaster and losing a friend, nothing happened.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± said Dirt. ¡°So, if M¨¤xim could read my mind, then he¡¯d know what it was I thought about and get offended anyway, even though I didn¡¯t want that to happen.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. There are many things a man wishes to keep hidden, child. Some are mistakes he wishes to move past. Some are things he can never say, but still thinks of. Some are desires he must keep under control, but struggles with. Everyone who has lived long enough has things they don¡¯t want others to know. Even you, I bet. Can you think of anything like that?¡± asked Fidelu, gesturing with his hand for Dirt to answer.

    The first thing that came to Dirt¡¯s mind was that he, Avitus, had broken the world and ruined the gods and sent humanity into an extinction spiral. Everybody didn¡¯t need to know that. ¡°I guess,¡± he replied.

    Gnese said, ¡°Now, imagine there¡¯s one person in the tribe that everyone knows can see all their thoughts. All the things they need to keep hidden. Things that aren¡¯t truly themselves, or things they¡¯re trying to overcome. That one person knows all their secrets. How do you think they¡¯ll be treated? They will always be outcasts, right?¡±

    ¡°Also, they would not want to be close to anyone else. They would know that the others fear them, and they would hear those thoughts that were never meant to be spoken aloud, and be unable to stop knowing them,¡± said Fidelu.

    Dirt nodded, thinking that over. They had a good argument. They were completely wrong about what it would be like to know everyone¡¯s thoughts, but it was their perspective he was after. He suspected they were correct, which is why he¡¯d wanted to make sure before having Socks open someone¡¯s mind-eye.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    He¡¯d be creating an outcast. Even if that person was useful, like helping babies. And there were other things, too, like telling the rats in the granary to come out where they could be captured. Or helping a horse calm down. Or knowing there was a half-dead person among the tribe.

    If he was honest with himself, Dirt had known before asking what the answer would be. They¡¯d say not to do it, or they¡¯d ask for it to be done to themselves, secretly. He¡¯d intuited from the moment he first met Marina and her party that it was not something others should know.

    The elders waited patiently while he thought, and finally he said, ¡°I guess that makes sense. And they¡¯d probably be in danger, too.¡±

    ¡°Yes, they might be. From what?¡± asked Gnese.

    ¡°Say someone did something horrible, like a murder, and they didn¡¯t want anyone to find out about it. But they knew that that person knew. They might want to kill them too, before the secret is revealed,¡± said Dirt, furrowing his brow to look like a little boy deep in thought.

    Both of them faltered for the briefest instant, searching his face for any sign of duplicity, but quickly regained their composure. Gnese, however, gave him an intent look, and Dirt knew what she was thinking without even looking at her mind. She was almost certainly thinking something loudly to see his reaction. Perhaps, ¡°Child, can you see my thoughts?¡± Something like that.

    Dirt gave no reaction, of course. They were amateurs. His best friend was Socks, and they wanted to win a thought game?

    It made him feel a little guilty to be manipulating them like this. He preferred honesty and forthrightness, and, as he often reminded himself, discipline and sincerity were his true power.

    But he doubted this was information they would easily part with. Murder, if that¡¯s what it was, was something that should not be tolerated. He knew the word ¡°justice¡±, even if he couldn¡¯t say how it should play out. And he also knew the word ¡°execution¡±, which was what happened to criminals like murderers. Maybe he could get them to let something slip, and it would be exonerating instead of condemnatory.

    ¡°I¡¯m not reading your minds, so you can stop looking at me funny. Tell you what. Let¡¯s do a bargain. I¡¯ll answer any one question from you, even if the answer is a secret, and you do the same for me. What do you think?¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I decline,¡± said Gnese, without hesitation.

    ¡°As do I,¡± said Fidelu.

    That disappointed him. They had something to hide after all. He thought they might want some answers themselves, but all they wanted from him was his departure.

    He searched out their minds then, taking only a moment to find them. They were looking at him, after all, so he simply had to find the ones with his face in them. As he thought, they were full of anxiety and leftover terror. They had fear in them that was tied to watching his face, and to his voice. They were afraid of what he¡¯d say.

    Dirt made sure to watch so he could get his answer, whether they wanted to give it or not. ¡°Fine. Oh well. Suppose instead that for no reason at all, I just randomly asked you whether you had a good reason for killing that guy and stuffing him in there,¡± he said.

    It wasn¡¯t easy watching both of their minds at the same time¡ªthat was one thing he didn¡¯t have much practice with. In Gnese¡¯s mind flashed an image of tendrils creeping through the hole in the roof, of dark whispers and darker fears. In Fidelu¡¯s, envy and lust. He¡¯d wanted to mate with Gnese, and that was related somehow. In both cases, they quickly tried to think of something else.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think about it, whatever you do. Don¡¯t think about why you killed him. Stop! Think about something other than why you killed him!¡± said Dirt, making it impossible. ¡°Aaaahhh, not that! Not why you killed him and stuffed him in there!¡±

    Fidelu and Gnese had a similar idea, that they needed to propitiate the Murderous Lady. For Fidelu, it was an excuse, an opportunity, and for Gnese, a solemn obligation. She was pregnant now and the tribe would be secure. How could she ask anyone else to suffer in her place? How could she make some other woman a widow, or bereft of her child?

    In the few seconds before they managed to start thinking of other things, albeit imperfectly, Dirt put the story together, at least in simple fashion. Fidelu had desired Gnese for his mate, and Gnese had known that, but she was already married to Ghjacumu. They had slaughtered him for the Murderous Lady, hoping to calm her curse, and it had worked. Gnese¡¯s nightmares and daydream visions had ceased, and the two of them became a mated pair and married, and raised Ghjacumu¡¯s baby.

    ¡°So how¡¯d you get away with it? Why didn¡¯t anyone¡­ Oh, the other Elders covered for you?¡± asked Dirt, finding the answer in their thoughts. ¡°So they were in on it? I guess they must have told you about it, but hardly anyone else, or people would have checked the treasury the moment Ghjacumu disappeared.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t speak that name here,¡± hissed Gnese.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± asked Fidelu, cold and hard. Hard as Biandina¡¯s mother. From how his mind felt, this was more natural for him than anything else he¡¯d been doing.

    ¡°What I want changes all the time. First, I wanted to meet more humans, but you were too scared of me to make friends. Then I wanted Biandina to live safely with her family, but only her siblings want that. Not even her. Now what I want, is¡­ I guess I don¡¯t know. What do I want?¡± said Dirt.

    He pushed past the two of them and they gave him no resistance. He stepped over the dead body without looking at it. He stopped in front of Melodia, Goddess of Song. The Murderous Lady. Which was correct anymore?

    Frankly, the whole situation disgusted him. He gathered that the Eye was using the goddess to manipulate humans to their detriment, to whittle them down generation by generation. Fear, mistrust, deception, death. Was it simply toying with them, or had it not made enough horrible monstrosities to annihilate them yet? It¡¯d had three thousand years to work on it, so either it preferred slower methods or was generally incapable of anything else. But still, to manipulate them using something so bright and beautiful as the memory of a goddess?

    ¡°Are you still there, Melodia?¡± he asked, in his language. He didn¡¯t expect an answer, and she gave none. She stared ahead, wounded and dying.

    Behind him, Fidelu had picked up the heavy water bucket and was thinking about smashing Dirt¡¯s skull open with it. It was heavy, and the bottom rim would be sharp. He was even trying to hide his thoughts while he debated doing it, the poor fool. Without turning around, Dirt said, ¡°Socks is watching you right now, Fidelu, and even if you managed to hurt me, which you won¡¯t, you¡¯d only outlive me by a heartbeat.¡±

    The message was heard and understood, and the elders struggled to think of what else to do. They wanted Dirt to leave so badly it was going to give them a headache.

    Dirt quit watching their minds so he could concentrate and filled himself with mana. He stared up at the statue, old marble still smooth and bright, even if every last trace of the paint was gone. She had been glorious once.

    He hadn¡¯t tried this on stone yet, but he knew the sigil for it. There was no reason it shouldn¡¯t work. He used it to shape wood all the time. It didn¡¯t work very well on water, but that was water.

    Dirt took the wood-shaping magic the dryads had taught him and replaced the sigil for ¡®wood¡¯ with the one for ¡®stone.¡¯ After considering a few more changes, like replacing ¡®grow¡¯ with ¡®reform¡¯, he spoke the magic into existence.

    He started with her broken arm, the one twisted the wrong way at the elbow and hanging limp, and by Grace, it worked. The stone lost its solidity and Dirt gently reshaped it. He turned her forearm back the right way, doing his best to make sure it looked right, and did an acceptable job of it. He felt his own elbow to remind himself of the shape of the bones there, and it seemed to match.

    Then he made her marble innards suck back up into her stomach. The stone slid upward, losing its shape and becoming just a solid mass, but it was exactly the right amount to fill the cavity. He made the arm that had been holding her intestines extend away a little, then smoothed over her stomach and reshaped it to be a dress again. Fortunately not all of the stone fabric was ruined, which gave him plenty of places to copy, as he filled in all the rips and tears.

    He straightened her club foot by making it look like a mirror of the other one, and straightened her posture to balance out.

    Finally, he had the confidence to fix her face and get rid of that horrible expression of pain. Despite all his practice making wooden toys, the finer details were beyond him, so he left her expressionless. Still human-looking, but blank. It was good enough. He turned her palms forward in a gesture of welcoming, cleaned up a few other details like the drips of marble blood on the plinth, and then he was done.

    The mana left him and he stepped back, careful not to fall into the treasury. He quickly found mistakes, perhaps a dozen of them, but they were all minor. If he wanted to master this, he needed to spend a lot more time wandering around Turicum looking at the statues the dryads had recovered, and get a lot more practice. But despite the flaws, there was no mistaking this for anything other than Melodia. It was not a statue of a tortured, suffering woman any longer. It was an imperious woman in a full-length dress, gazing forward at a horizon only she could see.

    Dirt decided that was one detail he wasn¡¯t willing to leave overlooked, so he created the magic again and tilted her head downward slightly, so she¡¯d be looking at the people in the room. Only then did he turn around to see what the elders thought.

    They watched in silence, eyes wide, but less amazed than they might have been if they hadn¡¯t seen so much already.

    Before anyone spoke, a shadow came over the hole in the roof and plunged the Aedes into darkness. Gnese and Fidelu both cried out in alarm, but Dirt snapped his fingers and summoned a light.

    The whole gap was covered in white flesh, the flesh of the Eye and the things that emerged from it. A sinuous tendril drooped down and wound around the corpse on the floor, the one that had once been the half-dead man. It lifted him and the cloth laid over him upward, where he was drawn into its flesh.

    Dirt heard motion behind him and spun to see all his work being undone. The statue of the goddess was moving just like a real person, her dress ripping away to expose long gashes that opened on her thighs and chest. She moved an arm forward as if pleading for mercy and it broke at the elbow, the one Dirt had fixed. Her gaze turned down to him, terror and pain coming alive in her marble features, and then she froze again, and fell from the plinth.

    -COME, DIRT,- yelled Socks. -COME NOW!-

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 25

    Dirt paused, unable to move for a moment as he stared at the fallen statue, but Gnese¡¯s screams brought him back to full awareness.

    There was no time to waste. He waved a hand in front of Fidelu¡¯s face to get his attention and said, ¡°There¡¯s going to be a fight. Go help get ready.¡±

    Then he ran out of the Aedes and the Principia, with the stray thought that he probably shouldn¡¯t be calling it that anymore. It was not a Principia at all, just the skeleton of one.

    Outside in the main concourse, the chaos was already starting. Monstrous shapes in the sky were seen imperfectly through the edges of the netting, and the tribe¡¯s attention was rapidly turning upward. Cries of alarm rang out each time flashes of white flesh crossed the narrow gaps. The Eye, or whatever shape it had taken this time, swam through the air above the outpost, but it was impossible to get a good look at it. Some screamed and froze; others called out names and raced to find them. Men took up spears and gazed upward warily, hoping nothing would come through the ceiling.

    It did. An arm with four joints and two pincer-like fingers at the end burst from a drooping snow-dip in the canopy, sending wet slush its same color flying everywhere in an explosive burst. It tore away a tent and grabbed two humans, a young man and a child, and began to raise them upward.

    Dirt sprinted toward them and inhaled mana, then jumped to catch it. He was going so fast that he slammed into the two humans with a crushing thud and then almost failed to grab on. The smaller one screamed in pain, but Dirt hadn¡¯t felt anything break, so hopefully it was fine. He climbed around like a squirrel until he got both hands around one of the giant fingers and pulled with all his might, opening the claw¡¯s grip.

    The two humans tumbled out, awkwardly, headfirst, and for an instant Dirt was sure they¡¯d smash their skulls, but Socks caught them with his mind and set them down. Then the pup grabbed him and yanked him halfway across the fortress.

    -We should go outside and fight it there,- was all Socks said, and Dirt agreed. But before they even turned to go, another monstrous arm ripped open the netting not far from where they stood and reached down to toss a tent aside. It clutched a woman holding a babe in her arms and lifted her up. In a desperate moment of good judgment, she tossed the little one to someone nearby.

    -I can¡¯t grab it!- said Socks, meaning the giant arm. It was certain, then¡ªthis was the same thing they¡¯d fought outside Ogena. Socks hadn¡¯t been able to grab that one with his mind either.

    Dirt pulled out his knife and threw it forward for Socks, and the pup snatched it with his mind and sent it shooting forward faster than an arrow. It was too late, however, and the woman gave one desperate shriek of helplessness as she was pulled up through the hole in the netting. Socks returned the knife to Dirt.

    ¡°Pull it all down!¡± shouted Dirt in his mind, and Socks complied. The netting began to tear and collapse everywhere, burying hapless humans under piles of snow and fabric that proved near impossible to get out of.

    Most of the children were clustered around Socks, hundreds of them, but not all. Dirt made sure that no one was caught beneath the falling ceiling who would be too small to survive, by pulling them to safety with his own mind. The rebounding momentum caused him to slide this way and that on the floor and he fell more than once, but soon enough, a good portion of the sky was exposed and with it, the Eye.

    But it was more than just an eye this time, peeking through its rip in the sky. Other holes hung in the air through which long, gangly limbs emerged, waving as they looked for their next target. The captured woman was nowhere to be seen, but Dirt suspected that she and the corpse from the Aedes were inside a bulging mass hovering near the eye, one that added a shade of tumorous red to its sickly white flesh.

    Everyone was screaming now, complete chaos having taken hold. Fortunately, nearly every child in the tribe was close to Socks, so none of them got crushed in the wild stampede for the exits.

    Socks took his iron ball from its pocket in his harness and braced himself for a throw.

    ¡°Get the arms first so no one else gets grabbed,¡± said Dirt.

    The iron ball flew like a lightning strike, with so much force that even Socks¡¯ paws slipped on the bare stone, his claws scratching its surface. Above, a monstrous arm exploded in a spray of blood and flesh and fell with a wet thud onto a place that still had netting over it.

    Dirt focused and called a few sparks up near the Eye itself, which he caused to burst into flame to serve as a distraction. The Eye gave no indication that it had been harmed, but it rotated in its slimy socket to find him and Socks standing below. It began to glide silently through the air toward them.

    Socks obliterated another arm, then another, swinging the ball too fast to see as his giant body swayed from the rebounding momentum.

    The Eye seemed to pay its injuries little heed. It stopped before it got to them and turned its gaze downward toward a cluster of humans.

    Biandina. She was down there, arms spread protectively over several of her siblings, and it was looking right at her. Her father stood next to her pointing a spear upward, waving it back and forth like he was trying to shoo a bird. The mother was nowhere to be seen, fortunately, and Dirt hoped she was safe somewhere with the infant.

    Having fixed on her, the Eye floated upward and withdrew the stubs of its ruined arms back into the sky.

    The cluster of humans below broke apart and everyone ran in a different direction. Half of them fell, stumbling over collapsed tents or getting tangled in some of the cloth and rope from the netting. Anyone who fell was picked up, fortunately, and not stomped on. Antelmu, the oldest boy, had little Oraziu and Miliu under his arms and he was the first to successfully break from the crowd. He ran with greater strength than Dirt expected, darting nimbly between tents until he got far enough away and chose to hide. It didn¡¯t help much; Dirt could hear Oraziu¡¯s shrill screaming all the way from here, even over the cacophony of the crowd. Lavisa, the girl just younger than Biandina who¡¯d mentioned dancing, was not too far behind.

    That left Biandina and three others unable to get away in time. The Eye filled with a hissing red liquid and blinked, dropping a single tear right on them. Babbu yanked Gnaziu back so hard he tumbled head over heels. Biandina shoved Lisea out of the way, but Eudossia clung to her legs and kept her from moving out of danger herself. With no time to spare, Biandina folded her arms over her sister and bowed protectively.

    Dirt sprinted that direction as fast as his mana-infused legs could carry him, but he was too far. Socks tried grabbing the red drip, but his mind wouldn¡¯t close around it. That left him only an instant, in which the pup flung a bundle of cloth¡ªprobably part of a tent¡ªinto the drip¡¯s path.

    The tent cloth caught most of the liquid, but not all. A splash made it past and fell across Biandina¡¯s arm and shoulder, with a few drops on her back.

    Everything the liquid touched was destroyed, evaporating into bitter, reeking smoke in an instant. The tent cloth became mere tangled strips, and the stone¡¯s surface was pitted where the splash fell. But most important, Biandina¡¯s arm severed completely at the shoulder, where it had taken the largest portion, and fell to the ground. The wounds in her back dug deep, exposing ribs and the things beneath them. Her clothing had been torn and ruined already, but now it was tatters, as ragged as the goddess wore.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    It was no longer possible to tell who was or wasn¡¯t screaming. Biandina fell to her knees, popping Eudossia out to the side. Babbu grabbed the smaller girl and carried her a safe distance away, eyeing the smoking pits in the floor.

    Dirt reached her then, too late. She huddled, gasping, unable to handle the damage done to her body, to say nothing of the pain. Her injuries quickly welled with blood and Dirt wasted no time. He picked her up by her thigh and armpit, sparing not even an instant to worry about her comfort, and raced toward Socks.

    All the ruined tents and clustered garbage made it impossible to move as fast as he wanted, but at least the few straggling people in the path jumped out of the way and fled elsewhere.

    The Eye followed them. Dirt heard another drip only a few steps behind and felt a burning puncture wound on his calf from a splash, but it was not enough to stop him. He made it back to Socks before his eyes even started watering from the pain.

    The crowd of children around Socks had broken, with most of them running off toward their homes, or at least hiding somewhere else. Socks gently swept the few remaining stragglers aside, most of them landing a bit roughly, but unharmed.

    He tore away the tatters of Biandina¡¯s ruined shirt and for the second time, licked her wounds to save her life. This time she was awake for it, and she wept and gasped and twisted in revulsion at how it felt, which made Dirt feel miserable himself.

    But they had no time. Not even enough time to completely lick her wounds before the Eye was overhead and another drop rained down. Socks got everyone to safety, but only barely¡ªone tiny girl ran out at the last instant and nearly took the full brunt of it. Socks and Dirt both pushed her to safety with their minds, so hard the sudden acceleration knocked her unconscious. No minds winked out, thank Grace.

    Dirt looked up just in time to see a four-jointed arm press a flailing man into the bulging red mass of flesh hovering near the eye. He was absorbed into it almost instantly.

    Socks said, -What do we do?- The pup sounded panicked.

    ¡°Fire! Burn the whole sky!¡± screamed Dirt mentally.

    The blue sky filled with bright sparks, spread across as wide an area as Socks could handle. Dirt reached out with his mind and Socks grabbed on, pulling him into a mind meld. Dirt¡¯s mind was nowhere near the size of Socks¡¯, but every last bit of added focus helped.

    Socks and Dirt flooded the sky with another wave of sparks, watching them with two sets of eyes to keep them burning, and then ignited them with a deafening roar. A blast wave of scalding heat ripped through the outpost, so hot the boy had to blink several times before they were sure his eyes weren¡¯t burned.

    Flames hotter and brighter than the sun filled the sky and the half-dead mind of the Eye quickly withdrew, closed, and disappeared.

    Socks and Dirt kept the flames burning for a bit longer, a count of three, until even the wolf ran out of mana and couldn¡¯t keep up with the demand. The flames died, the sky dimming as the blue returned.

    Only a few steps away, the bulbous, squirming mass fell and burst open. Inside were the remains of four humans¡ªthe corpse from the Aedes, and three others who had been caught. They were halfway through the process of being reshaped into something else, something revolting and incomplete. Their heads were exposed, dead faces and eyes staring at nothing, but all their torsos were melting together. Half of their limbs had already been absorbed.

    Socks and Dirt beheld the sight with such utter disgust in both halves of themselves that they covered it with a toppled tent. The wolf lifted the boy high into the air so they could scout for further danger, but there was nothing from horizon to horizon, nor could they find any dangerous minds. Just the minds of a crowd of humans in a state beyond terror, and the horses, who had somehow been insulated from the entire affair.

    Still, they kept watch for a moment longer just to make sure before bringing the boy down and separating the mind meld.

    There was no hush in the crowd once the danger was gone. Instead, the cries of terror turned to cries of anguish or pain or calls for help to rescue someone trapped. Dirt felt sick inside. He knew it wasn¡¯t his fault, but also, that it was. He hadn¡¯t intended for this, nor should he have seen it coming. But here it was, in response to something he¡¯d done.

    Socks resumed licking Biandina while Dirt took in the devastation all around them. In the few short moments the conflict had lasted, the tribe had lost its cloth-net ceiling and half or more of their tents had been destroyed. The entire area was laid waste, leaving everything in soggy heaps. Mothers raced around desperately looking for their children and men stood ready with spears to stab the sky, unable to believe it was already over.

    And maybe it wasn¡¯t over. The Eye had focused on Biandina, so did that mean it was keeping track of her somehow? Maybe she¡¯d been right all along. Maybe she was cursed, or at least, its functional equivalent.

    The gouge in his calf really needed licking, and Dirt could feel the blood dripping down into his shoe. But he wasn¡¯t ready to be rid of the pain, not yet.

    He felt a chill where he wasn¡¯t expecting it and peeked back to find that his pants really had been too tight, and the seam was torn open on the rear. Further inspection showed similar damage to both shoulders. He scowled. Looking around, it seemed unlikely that anyone would be interested in giving him a new set of clothes anymore. They had their own messes to deal with. It was going to be a long, cold winter, but he supposed he deserved it.

    -What do we do with her now?- asked Socks. -If we leave her, they will throw her out again, and now she only has one arm. Oh, I forgot your calf. Roll up your pant leg and do not argue.-

    Dirt thought about it while Socks healed him, but ultimately, it wasn¡¯t his decision to make, was it? Biandina was kneeling now, covering her breasts with her remaining arm. Her wounds were clean, but the skin had only barely begun to regrow and they looked like ground meat. Her head was bowed, but she kept glancing all around, unable to keep her eyes off the destruction.

    He glanced at her thoughts and found what he expected. Bitter, painful emotion that sparked sharply amongst every thought. Thoughts that rang with self-pity and guilt over the poor state of her tribe. She¡¯d only wanted to help, even at a high cost.

    In fact, she was already planning on how to leave. She¡¯d tell the boy she had to pee, tell the wolf not to follow her, and then run away and never come back. Better to fall in the snow and die out there than to let this happen to her people again. Here she was, in the state she was in, and her primary thought was her tribe.

    ¡°Biandina, let me ask you something,¡± said Dirt. ¡°You sacrificed that rabbit for revenge for your brother, right? Because he was taken by rucche? Why did you think it was up to you to get revenge, instead of someone else?¡±

    She looked up at him, then looked away, and Dirt noticed that she was indeed beautiful in her way. She had a rounder face than Dirt¡¯s people or the Camayans, but it had a gentle liveliness that he found more and more pleasing, and even if her paler brown hair was an odd companion to her tanned skin, now that he¡¯d seen her tribe, he decided it worked.

    ¡°Come on,¡± he prodded. ¡°You can tell me.¡±

    ¡°No one else was doing anything. Everyone just accepts the misfortune and I think that¡¯s stupid. We shouldn¡¯t have to live like that and if people would just do what they all thought of but didn¡¯t dare, we wouldn¡¯t have to,¡± she said, a bit of fire in her voice.

    Dirt grinned. ¡°So, you thought maybe humans should be fighting back instead of just dying out?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t make fun of me,¡± she said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not. I¡¯m smiling because I¡¯m happy. You know who you remind me of? Marina. She was just like you, except she had a different problem and a different solution. But it was the same thing, sort of. She found a man named H¨¨ctor and another one named Ignasi, and they were the first humans I ever saw. They were trying to save their town, too, for the same reason. Because if no one did anything, then their humans were all just going to die out,¡± said Dirt. He wondered if he should sit next to her, or squat so he wasn¡¯t talking down at her, but she didn¡¯t seem to mind so he stayed standing, hoping his torn seat would stay together.

    -You are going to bring her with us, aren¡¯t you?- asked Socks.

    ¡°Only if that¡¯s okay with you.¡±

    -I suppose I¡¯m fine with what you have in mind,- said the pup, adding a mental sigh to his words that he didn¡¯t truly feel. He couldn¡¯t quite hide the protective feelings he was developing for the poor little human whose blood he could still taste on his tongue.

    Biandina hadn¡¯t replied, so Dirt said, ¡°So, wanna come with us?¡±

    ¡°To where?¡±

    ¡°To meet Marina.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m useless now,¡± said Biandina, but in her mind, she didn¡¯t believe her own words. She was already thinking of how she¡¯d tie a knot with one hand, and other things. She¡¯d lost her right arm, and she was right-handed, but she could still manage. She¡¯d have to.

    ¡°You were useless before. Wasn¡¯t that your problem? But I think some of my friends might be able to grow you a new arm,¡± said Dirt. ¡°And I really want you to meet them. And my other human friends. Maybe together we can think of a way to save humanity.¡±

    She nodded and Dirt watched in her mind as her resolve grew and settled. She could feel the need, and she¡¯d been able to for a long time. The world was wrong, and someone had to do something. They had called her silly and childish, said it was the whims of a youthful girl who didn¡¯t know the world yet. But she had known, even so, deep in her heart. She dwelled on that feeling, savoring it, and turned it into hope instead of regret or fear. The wolf was strong, and so was the boy. Startlingly so. Perhaps, maybe¡­

    Biandina stood, careful to keep her breasts covered. ¡°Let me get another shirt,¡± she said shyly, growing embarrassed now that she was up where everyone could see her, only half dressed. ¡°And help clean up a little, if they¡¯ll let me. And say goodbye properly this time.¡±

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 26

    Leaving, it turned out, was no simple matter. The tribe had gone mostly unharmed, but their homes hadn¡¯t. A tremendous amount of work was now required to make the outpost livable again. Everyone was cold, everything was wet and in disarray, and night was still expected to arrive at the regular time.

    Three people had been captured and melded together with the corpse from the Aedes¡ªthe only deaths, as far as Dirt or Socks could determine¡ªbut a crowd of others had been injured in some way, with injuries ranging from scrapes to broken bones.

    In short, there was more work than able-bodied humans around, so Dirt jumped in the first place he saw a need. He hoped, in part, to avoid having to think about the growing sense of culpability he felt. How responsible was he, exactly? Fortunately, no one but the two elders knew exactly what brought the attack. If everyone had known, he wasn¡¯t sure what they¡¯d do. Possibly throw things at him until he left.

    A nearby family was trying to stand their tent back up, a middle-aged couple with two boys older than Biandina. Dirt took the fourth corner and lifted. Once they got it up, the mother went inside. She immediately gave a cry of dismay and said, ¡°The pole is broken!¡±

    The others scowled or looked at the floor. The man said, ¡°How broken is it?¡±

    Dirt let his corner sag and stepped around to the entrance to see. The center pole that held the majority of the tent¡¯s weight was in pieces, and not just from the leather thongs coming untied. Dirt guessed that it had been stepped on after falling over, crushing one of the larger bones into jagged shards. It was fixable, but the tent ceiling would be shorter by at least a foot as a result and it wasn¡¯t very tall to begin with.

    ¡°Do you have any wood around?¡± he asked innocently.

    The woman gave him a half-hearted glare, and the man mirrored it almost perfectly. The larger of their two children, the boy, said, ¡°If we had enough wood, we wouldn¡¯t be using bone for everything, would we?¡± The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable, arising from bitterness.

    ¡°No, I mean, any at all. Even just a little,¡± said Dirt.

    Nearby, Socks hefted the fused corpses with his mind and carried them outside. He jumped up through the open ceiling rather than try and squeeze through the door.

    Dirt spotted a wooden ladle, old and worn, lying near the next tent over, which a different mated pair were struggling to put back up. He hopped over and snatched it, then held it out. Inhaling a fresh helping of mana, he spoke the magic to reshape it. In his hands, it straightened, grew thick as his fist so it would be nice and sturdy, and then began to extend in both directions. ¡°How long do you want it?¡± he asked.

    The youth¡¯s sarcasm vanished in an instant and he gave a low whistle that sounded impressed, eyes eager. The mother climbed back out of the sagging tent and froze when she saw what Dirt was holding.

    ¡°How long? About like this? Or do you want it taller?¡± Dirt asked for the second time. It seemed about as tall as the broken one, and would probably be sturdier.

    ¡°Taller, if you have another one. How did you do that?¡± asked the man, trying to act less excited than he felt.

    ¡°I was raised by trees and wolves. Actually, you over there, do you want one too?¡± said Dirt, toward the next family over. When they nodded the affirmative, he extended it long enough for two, then made it sever in half. The top section clanked loudly on the stone floor.

    The second son, taller than the first, reached down to pick it up but he wasn¡¯t expecting the weight and it slipped from his fingers. ¡°It¡¯s real,¡± he said, somewhat embarrassed. The second time he picked it up, he used both hands.

    ¡°So is this the right length, then?¡± Dirt asked, standing his pole straight up.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said one father. ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± said the other.

    ¡°Is everybody going to want one this tall?¡±

    ¡°If anyone wants a shorter one, they can just cut it. A little extra wood¡ª¡± said one of the older boys.

    ¡°Yeah, we can just cut it shorter and use the extra for other things,¡± interrupted the brother.

    Neither brother seemed upset, so Dirt supposed that speaking over each other was normal for them, which it may very well be. He nodded and channeled mana again, but this time instead of growing the extra length out the top, he had it grow sideways and then split down the middle the long way. The third pole was caught before it hit the floor. Dirt did it again, and again, and then word started getting around.

    It turned out that wood was more valuable to them than anything he¡¯d been offering before. Maybe if he could produce sap or those energizing berries, they might want those instead, but he couldn¡¯t. After repeated assurances that Dirt could make enough for everyone to get one, they formed a line and Dirt learned from direct experience that two hundred was a lot of times to do something.

    The first few lengths of wood were trivial, but after about thirty he started getting distracted, which made it harder. After another fifty, and his mana vessel seemed to tighten and wouldn¡¯t gather as much mana at once, slowing him down. But he couldn¡¯t stop, not until everyone had what they needed. Where else were they going to get it?

    People stood in line with broken arms hastily strapped into slings, or with seeping bandages over cuts that hadn¡¯t been sewed shut yet. Neighbors waited with their injured friends and helped them carry theirs back, to ensure everyone had a chance.

    Not every pole was used to hold tents up. Some people lived in shacks of stacked bricks with skins draped over the top, for one, and not every tent pole had been broken. A good number of Dirt¡¯s new poles were stored outside, leaning up against something for later use.

    While Dirt tended to that, Socks collected the monster¡¯s fallen flesh and burned that too, then scorched the blood off the stone when he saw people trying to scrub it. Anything its blood had touched had to be burned, and one of the things that kept distracting Dirt was watching Socks being led to this or that spot to pick something up with his mind and take it outside.

    Cleanup took less time than Dirt expected, it turned out. Most of it just had to be picked up and set back in its place. Spilled things were wiped or swept up and whatever was torn or broken was either repurposed or tossed in a heap of refuse near the front gate.

    Biandina came with her mother and the oldest brother, Antelmu, at the very end of the line to get their pole. The girl had a fresh shirt on, a baggy one that probably belonged to her mother. Her face had been washed to remove Socks¡¯s dried spittle and her hair fixed, and she looked far more presentable now. There was no ignoring the way her shoulder sagged and the sleeve dangled uselessly, however.

    Antelmu walked tall behind her, black eyes sharp and fierce as they watched everyone carefully. It seemed as if he was daring anyone to insult his sister.

    The mother said, ¡°Gnaziu said earlier we¡¯d trade you better clothes for wood. Make me three poles like that, and I¡¯ll give you something that fits you.¡± She had the same hard look in her face as always, perhaps even more determined now that Biandina¡¯s return had indeed accompanied a disaster.

    ¡°What are you going to use them for?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°It¡¯s none of your business. Biandina will be leaving by nightfall and I expect you¡¯ll want to go with her,¡± said the mother.

    ¡°I¡¯m asking because I can make them any shape I want,¡± said Dirt, growing somewhat indignant.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to carve them as needed. I don¡¯t know everything I want yet,¡± she replied. Her arms stayed folded as she glowered down at him.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t told Biandina this yet, but I¡¯m going to take her somewhere she¡¯ll be safe. You know that forest I mentioned before, where I¡¯m from? It¡¯s a place the Eye won¡¯t dare offend. She¡¯ll be safe and happy there. There will be people to meet, both humans and trees. Dryads,¡± said Dirt.

    The mother¡¯s glare didn¡¯t soften, but some of the tightness in her posture did. Dirt took that as an encouraging sign. ¡°The trees there are so tall the clouds have to go around them and it never rains. There are ruins everywhere from the same empire that built this outpost, long ago. There¡¯s even an entire library of records to read. It¡¯s never too cold or too hot, and the trees give you food and water, or even clothing if you want any.¡±

    The boy, Antelmu, stepped up between his mother and sister to listen. He might be almost thirteen, but that was still too young to keep his expression from giving away his thoughts. All the fierceness in his demeanor was quickly being replaced by curiosity. The boy¡¯s mind spun as he imagined it all, making his eyes sparkle in wonder.

    ¡°Sometimes wolves like Socks come, and they have to be on good behavior because the trees are too powerful to offend. That¡¯s how I met Socks. He was just wandering around and found me. But that¡¯s not all. There will be humans there too, starting with Marina. The trees fixed her womb so she¡¯s looking for a mate, and then she¡¯ll live in the forest for a while. But if you want to see something other than a forest, the trees can send you to Ogena.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s Ogena?¡± asked Biandina.

    Dirt had been talking mostly at the mother, trying to win her over somewhat, but now he looked apologetically at Biandina, whose fate they were discussing. ¡°I mentioned that too, and so did Socks. It¡¯s a city so grand it puts this outpost to shame. There are, what, five hundred people in the tribe here? Ogena has over three thousand but they could fit plenty more. They have metal and stone and all the wood they need, and in the center is a giant palace so beautiful I can¡¯t even describe it. The Duke lives there with his family, and they¡¯re my friends.¡±

    The mother hesitated, but she shifted her weight as if she was trying to decide what to say. Finally, she muttered, ¡°That¡¯s all none of my business.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know. I¡¯m just telling you for no reason at all. Biandina will be safe and happy and healthy and see amazing things. She might even come back one day. Who knows? But never mind. Here you go.¡± Dirt handed them their poles, but during the short talk a few more people had gotten in line, so he would be staying here for a bit longer.

    Neither Biandina nor her mother seemed completely convinced, but Antelmu certainly was. The young man was bubbling over with questions he wanted to ask, but had to restrain himself until later.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°I¡¯ll come get my clothes in a minute. You should go pack up, if we¡¯re leaving today,¡± said Dirt. Biandina nodded. Her mother didn¡¯t. They turned to go, and Antelmu dragged behind, glancing backward and bumping his pole into something, almost dropping it.

    The last few people in line weren¡¯t the elders, and Dirt assumed he wasn¡¯t going to see them again. He couldn¡¯t blame them for not coming to bid him farewell.

    First was a mated couple, and then a tall, lanky boy with a scruff of hair on his chin, and a few others.

    Very last in line was a man holding a babe in his arms, and both of them were crying. The man wept quietly, tears streaming down his face, but the babe screamed with its pitiable, tiny voice.

    Dirt¡¯s throat tightened. The man was sadder than he¡¯d ever seen anyone, truly deep in despair, and Dirt¡¯s heart reached out in sympathy. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± he asked lamely.

    ¡°My wife is gone,¡± said the man. He did nothing to hide his crying or summon any dignity. The mourning he felt radiated from him with nothing to veil it. ¡°It took her, and she is gone, and now I cannot feed my son. I fear he will starve.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I was too late,¡± said Dirt. He knew exactly which woman that was. He¡¯d watched her toss that very baby to safety before being pulled up to her doom. Guilt crept up from the floor and twisted its pointed claws into his stomach.

    ¡°It is an evil day. An evil, evil day,¡± said the man. The baby wailed louder, and the man¡¯s face tightened. He had to close his eyes as sobs shook him. A moment later he opened them again and said, ¡°Please give me a pole, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    Dirt handed him the last pole, the one he¡¯d been using to make all the others. He wracked his brain trying to think if there was anything else he could do. Home was too far away to give them any sap, and Dirt didn¡¯t know the spell for it. The people here had plenty of water and didn¡¯t need more. The baby couldn¡¯t eat meat; it didn¡¯t even have teeth. Dirt had no gold to give. There was nothing. Nothing at all.

    The man turned to go, carrying his pole in one arm and the hungry babe in the other. Dirt looked down at the floor and their cries filled his ears as they drifted back toward their tent. The babe¡¯s, and the man¡¯s. He pictured that woman¡¯s last moments, the courage she had shown. She hadn¡¯t screamed for rescue, she¡¯d saved her baby instead.

    Dirt had mourned his own loss more than once, and that was only impressions and faded memories. This man had a real memory, a real face and name, a real person he could never touch again. Dirt felt dissatisfied if he went more than a couple days without touching puppy fur, so how much worse would it be if it was a mate, not just a best friend?

    No tears came. He didn¡¯t cry, but that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t miserable. He walked stony and ashen-faced, unable to step out of the puddle of guilt he was sinking into. He¡¯d been hoping it was the goddess Melodia who¡¯d helped them save Biandina. That she really was still out there watching, despite the state of things. He still wasn¡¯t sure, but that¡¯s what he¡¯d been hoping. Things hadn¡¯t worked out like he hoped.

    Did Dirt¡¯s hope and good intentions matter to the little baby who missed his mother and might starve to death now? It did not. Hunger and loss until it died. That was all the baby had to look forward to.

    Socks nudged him and said, -Do not be too sad, little Dirt. They can find another woman to nurse him, or feed him mare¡¯s milk, or sheep¡¯s milk.-

    ¡°They have sheep?¡±

    -Of course. Where do you think all the wool comes from?-

    ¡°Where are the sheep?¡±

    -Not close. I can only smell them sometimes.-

    ¡°Socks, did I make things worse?¡± he asked, guilt and sympathy twisting his insides into knots. He squeezed his eyes shut and quit walking.

    -I am on your side, always,- said Socks, simply.

    ¡°Is it my fault that woman died?¡±

    -I am on your side, always. Let the accusers come,- said Socks. He leaned down to give Dirt¡¯s face a little lick with the tip of his tongue. -Let the accusers come and I will tell them that humanity has only one real enemy, and it is not you. And they have only one person who will fight it, and that is you.-

    ¡°What if this keeps happening? What if I keep making it so people die or get hurt?¡±

    -What did Father command us?-

    ¡°Cause havoc. Dig harrows in the earth and turn rivers from their courses. Leave fields of bones behind you. Explore and return with experience. But he was talking to you, not me.¡±

    -I am his son, but he was talking to both of us or you would not have heard him. He did not tell us to be timid and cautious. Do not be sad and scared and give up.-

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to give up, I just¡­¡± Dirt trailed off, unsure how to finish that thought.

    They were already raising the roof nets back up, at least some of them, using pulleys and ropes, which they tied to hold them in place. Most of the netting was still in need of repair, but it seemed it would go back up faster than Dirt expected.

    -I am on your side, silly little Dirt. Always,- said Socks again.

    Dirt took that for how it was meant, and let it help. He stood straighter and patted the pup¡¯s nose, sending a hefty puff of affection, which the pup returned. After taking a few deep breaths, Socks licked him again and he felt a lot better.

    They stepped their way through the clutter, and Dirt waved at people he recognized, or who waved at him first. It wasn¡¯t far to Biandina¡¯s family tent, and with so many little hands to help, everything was already cleaned up. Dirt stepped inside and found the father cooking flatbread on a small copper pan. They had a tight basket of dried meat and fruit to put on the bread, and three of the children were already happily munching on their meal. The mother was still settling in, looking through some woolen bags to find things for Biandina to take.

    Dirt sat, not wishing to presume he would get any, but to his surprise, the father handed him the next one. He got up and took it, then put a polite amount of the toppings on, and turned to sit back down. Miliu and Oraziu, the two little boys, both giggled when they noticed his torn pants, and then several of the other children leaned over to see.

    After he sat back down, Dirt wondered about the charcoal being used for the fire, since they had very little wood. ¡°Where do you get the charcoal?¡± he asked.

    Gnaziu, the boy just older than Dirt, said, ¡°We make it from grass.¡±

    Lavisa, the older sister, was holding the infant to free up her mother¡¯s arms. She said, ¡°We cook it, then add water and starch and form it into that shape. Then we just let it dry.¡±

    ¡°From grass? Really?¡± asked Dirt. That didn¡¯t seem right, but what did he know? It was right there in front of him.

    The mother said, ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell them all what you told me, about where you¡¯re taking her?¡± There was a softness beneath the iciness in her eyes that hadn¡¯t been there before, and Dirt felt a spark of joy that perhaps he had given her some hope after all.

    He sat back and recounted everything, going into a bit more detail. Some of it they¡¯d already seen in Socks¡¯s vision, but there were things Dirt had only mentioned and not explained. And either way, in this recounting, Dirt placed Biandina there, and that made it all new again. The children listened in wonder, although the older ones had difficulty hiding their regret that she was leaving. Little Eudossia, in particular, clutched Biandina¡¯s empty sleeve like a leash.

    After telling them all about the forest and Ogena, Dirt said, ¡°There¡¯s one more part that I haven¡¯t told anyone yet. Socks didn¡¯t mention it and neither did I. We¡¯ve fought that giant eye in the sky before. Here¡¯s a story that only a handful of humans in the entire world know. First, let me ask, have you ever heard the name Avitus?¡±

    None of them reacted to the name, and the parents looked at each other. Dirt was pleased. Perhaps his name wasn¡¯t a curse everywhere on earth. Yet.

    ¡°Three thousand years ago, there was a man named Avitus. He lived in a great empire, so huge it would take months or maybe longer to go from one end to the other. This place your tribe lives in used to be part of it. An army used to operate here. In those days, people worshiped the gods, and they weren¡¯t evil. The gods were not the enemies of humans; they were helpful and people worshiped them sincerely. Not like what you call the gods now. That statue in the Aedes that you call the Murderous Lady used to be Melodia, the Mistress of Song, and she didn¡¯t look like that.

    ¡°But Avitus did something, and it broke the world. The gods were gone and the empire fell apart, and for three thousand years, everything has been getting smaller and worse. New kingdoms formed in the remains of the empire, and those broke apart, and then broke up even smaller, until there is hardly anything left. And the thing that made it all happen is the Eye. It wants to destroy all humans forever. I¡¯ve seen way more of the world than almost anyone, and it¡¯s mostly empty now. Ruins of cities, if there¡¯s anything left at all. The Eye works slowly most of the time, whittling away, whittling away. No one knows what to do about it, because why should you risk yourself to change things?¡±

    That was the part where Dirt got their full attention. They instinctively held still to keep from making any sound. The infant squirmed in Lavisa¡¯s arms, and she gave him a finger to suck on to keep him quiet.

    Dirt continued, ¡°I haven¡¯t been here long enough to know what that looks like for you, but what if you all got together and hunted down every last rucca? Maybe sometimes you want to, but it¡¯s too dangerous, so you don¡¯t, and so they keep eating your people. But not every human is like that. Marina found two men to go on a long journey to save her tribe, a dangerous one. She succeeded and convinced the Duke that he should fight back against the world falling apart, even though it¡¯s always dangerous.

    ¡°The Duke in Ogena and his people faced an entire army of goblins, and they wore armor of metal and rode horses that sounded like a thunderstorm. They came out with us when Socks and I went to fight and together we killed and scattered the entire army. The Eye appeared then, and Socks and I fought it and won there just like we did here,¡± said Dirt.

    Antelmu asked, first as a mutter but then growing louder when he realized he was speaking out loud, ¡°Humans can fight that stuff? They can be strong like you?¡±

    ¡°Well, not like me,¡± said Dirt, ¡°at least not any I know of. But they can be very courageous and strong and if no one is willing to do that, everyone is going to die out. It¡¯s going to happen. That¡¯s why I want to take Biandina with me and introduce her to Marina and the others. Maybe it was really stupid, what she did, but the point is she was willing to do something. She dared.¡±

    ¡°She dared, huh? I didn¡¯t know about sacrificing but I did shoot at the rucca with my bow,¡± said Antelmu, somewhat surly. ¡°And I¡¯ll do it every time I see one. She¡¯s not the only one who has courage.¡±

    ¡°Good. Then maybe this tribe has a future after all,¡± said Dirt.

    The Babbu changed the topic of conversation back to something safer, asking about the clothing they wore in Ogena, and more about what dryads looked like. Dirt was content to answer all their questions. He¡¯d said everything that needed to be said.

    After that, Dirt was given clothing in better repair, the same wool and fur that they wore outside the outpost. He changed into the new attire and immediately noticed how much warmer it was. It even warmed up his feet, right through his leather shoes, where the fur collar draped across them.

    That was about the end of it. It was time for the second farewell, the deliberate one. She¡¯d snuck out on her own before, but this time Biandina was given a pack to carry, full of whatever supplies the family could spare. When she stood and put it over her good shoulder and tied it around her waist, the other children knew it was time and looked heartbroken. One by one she hugged them, messing their hair and kissing them and whispering in their ears. Then it was her father¡¯s turn, and her mother¡¯s. Dirt had been nervous about that, but the woman¡¯s icy face finally broke and real emotion poured out. She buried her eyes in her daughter¡¯s good shoulder, letting out only two sobs before making herself stop. She straightened, face red.

    Biandina nodded, sniveling, and did her best to keep her own composure as she turned and walked out.

    Antelmu didn¡¯t cry, but the rest did, louder and louder. Dirt said, ¡°I really do think she¡¯ll be back someday. Goodbye.¡±

    They left, following her quick march through the town and out the gate. Socks leaped over rather than squeeze through the doorway, since they hadn¡¯t put the roof back over that spot yet. Once outside, she hid her regret, but Dirt could tell something about her seemed warmer. She¡¯d gotten a real farewell this time.

    She held her head high and put her hood up. ¡°So, where to now? Will Socks mind if I ride him?¡±

    The pup simply lifted them both onto his back, with Dirt in front and Biandina behind, holding on. Once they were settled, he left at a run.

    -First, the place we left that bird meat to freeze. I want some more. After that, we will visit the wolves. I want to visit them next,- said Socks to both of them.

    That was all they said for quite a while. Dirt left Biandina to her own thoughts, even though they were plain as text on a scroll with all the other humans out of the way, and there wasn¡¯t much to say to Socks for a while either.

    The rest of the day was quiet and cold, and Dirt was glad for his new clothing. It made all the difference, and with Biandina leaning over him to keep warm herself, the run was much more pleasant than the last one. They bedded down inside a half-circle heap of snow like before, and after everything that had happened during such a long day, sleep came quickly.

    Until the middle of the night, when Socks woke them. A light wobbled in the darkness, following their trail. A horseman. No. He reached them, and it was no man.

    Antelmu, on his prized colt Boulder, holding up a small copper lantern. The boy had followed the wolf¡¯s trail, trusting his horse to carry him speedily through the darkness. If Dirt and Socks had left any earlier in the day, he never would have found them. The boy had snot and tears frozen to his face, but he looked resolute as a stone.

    ¡°I¡¯m coming,¡± he said. ¡°I dare, too.¡±

 Subtle Powers - Chapter 27 - End of Volume III

    The next thing Dirt knew, it was morning and Socks was still asleep. He and Biandina and now Antelmu slept huddled together, lying on a blanket as close to the pup¡¯s warm belly as they could get. The horse, Boulder, was bored, standing there with nothing to do and unwilling to go anywhere. Socks must have convinced him not to be afraid before he went back to sleep, because he had no fear in him beyond the normal fidgetiness of a prey animal. His human was lying there asleep, and that functioned as a tether.

    Just as Dirt was settling in to rest and wait, Socks woke with a start and stood. He lifted his nose to the air and said, -Wake up, you two. Humans are coming.-

    Antelmu practically jumped out of his skin, going from a dream about mice to startled wakefulness in an instant. A single heartbeat later, his face filled with fear and he rushed to his horse, making sure everything was ready to go. It was. The horse was less than enthused, and Dirt supposed it was probably hungry.

    -We were too tired last night. Dirt was exhausted and so was I. But if you want to come, you cannot bring your horse. It will be too slow,- said Socks.

    ¡°Boulder is fast. We won¡¯t slow you down,¡± said Antelmu, checking the various bags and things draped over the horse. He very pointedly didn¡¯t look at Socks, just continued being busy getting ready.

    -Boulder is fast, but only for a horse. My legs are much longer than his and I can use mana,- said Socks. -I cannot see their minds from here, but I bet they are coming to take you back. Choose now. Ride back to meet them, or leave your horse here for them to find, without you on it. I will tell Boulder to follow the trail back until he meets them.-

    Dirt gave a sympathetic little frown. Antelmu probably pictured things starting very differently. He loved his horse, and he was probably as skilled as anyone at riding. And without it, what else did he have to offer? Instead of helping, he¡¯d be baggage that eats. Sort of like Biandina, now that Dirt thought about it. That made him smile, which he suppressed before anyone noticed.

    Biandina stepped over and placed a gentle hand on her brother¡¯s shoulder, which he tried to shake off. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt you deserve to come with us, but don¡¯t Mother and Father still need you? They lost Prosperu, and they lost me. Who¡¯s going to train the new dogs in the spring, and who will teach Oraziu to ride? I have to go. I don¡¯t have a choice. But you do, Antelmu. Are you sure you want to come? We might never go back.¡±

    Dirt had expected her to tell him to go back, but the girl surprised him. He glanced at her mind, and Biandina did want her brother to come, out of affection. But she also thought it was probably wrong.

    Antelmu continued fussing with his bags. He pulled out a feedbag that Dirt didn¡¯t get a look into before putting it over Boulder¡¯s head so the horse could eat.

    The bright, icy morning was invigorating. Each breath of cold air sparked in Dirt¡¯s lungs and energized him. His new clothing held the night¡¯s heat in remarkably well, and the cold only touched his face. The sun was blinding, though, unless he was looking at Socks, who was big enough to block most of the reflection. All in all, it didn¡¯t look like the kind of morning that needed to start with a giant flurry of activity. But here they were.

    -Horse or us. Decide right now.-

    Dirt got the impression that this was a harder decision than coming had been. Looking at Antelmu¡¯s mind, the boy was in serious turmoil. Everything he had imagined himself doing had involved the horse. Fighting monsters, exploring, hunting, other great and exciting things. The boy felt like he was like a hero from a story, but now it was already being cut short.

    Dirt said, ¡°I can¡¯t tell you the right thing to do. I don¡¯t know where you¡¯ll do more good¡ªwith them, or with us. I really don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know where you¡¯ll fit in or what you¡¯ll do. We¡¯re only bringing Biandina far enough to send her to the forest for now. Here, you have a family and a tribe you can help right away.¡±

    Antelmu turned around, and from his body language, he wasn¡¯t quite sure how seriously he was supposed to take Dirt, who was younger than him; Socks was clearly in charge.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to turn down anyone who says they want to help fix the world, but the best we can do is promise that we¡¯ll find something for you to do,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Something important. I just don¡¯t know what.¡±

    The older boy turned toward Socks and gathered his thoughts. ¡°Prosperu always talked about making things better, like by starting a new settlement and growing the tribe, but he just talked about it, and had too much else to do,¡± he said. Then he paused, chewing on his words.

    ¡°What he¡¯s saying is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop, Biandina. I can speak for myself. Let me say it,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°I heard the adults talk about losing more grazing land, and I know about the tornado that ruined that wheat field. The elders told people to just let it go because those areas had too many predators already. So now we just have less food, and no one is doing anything. It¡¯s the most honorful thing I can think of. So I can honor him and let his soul rest in the grass instead of the wind. Coming with you, I mean. I want to come with you.¡±

    -Are you certain?-

    Antelmu raised the back of his fist to his forehead and did an odd little bow, then said, ¡°Great Wolf, will you please carry me as well?¡±

    -Grab whatever you¡¯re bringing.-

    The boy took a pack, a waterskin, a small bow, and a quiver of arrows. Then he unstrapped a spear and asked, ¡°Should I bring this?¡±

    The spear leaped out of his hand all on its own and slid into the pup¡¯s harness alongside the staff Dirt had made earlier. Then the boy himself, along with Biandina and Dirt, flew up into the air and were deposited hastily on the pup¡¯s back. Dirt helped arrange the other two so they could lie down out of the wind and still hold on.

    Once everyone was ready to go, Socks told the horse to go back up the other way, largely by associating the ideas of food and warmth with going in that direction. The horse looked around warily, then huffed into its feedbag and started walking.

    There was one last thing to do. Socks lifted his leg and peed, a huge amount as always. It melted a bare spot on the dry grass several feet across.

    Dirt told Socks, ¡°We all have to pee, too. How come only you get to?¡±

    -Their horses will smell the predator urine and it will be hard to get them to keep following. We¡¯ll stop for you three in a bit, so just hold it.-

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t jostle us too much or we won¡¯t be holding it for long.¡±

    -I never jostle,- said Socks, amused. He was tempted to shimmy and give Dirt a good jostling as a joke, but caught him thinking it and refrained. Barely.

    Dirt explained aloud for Biandina and Antelmu, and the pup left at an eager run. The snow was denser now, but not as deep, and Socks could run almost normally. He did his best not to jostle, but Dirt couldn¡¯t take it and made him stop only a short time later. Biandina refused any help with her clothing, which she needed since she only had one arm now and the wounds were still painful, and everyone had to wait until she figured it out. Eventually she did, and got her pants tied to her satisfaction.

    After they were moving again, Socks sped up more and more, too fast to allow for easy conversation between the humans, so Dirt watched their minds a bit. Biandina¡¯s emotions were mixed, but Dirt was learning that was normal for her. She was trying not to think about all her siblings and how much they¡¯d clung to her when she reappeared, but the poor girl wasn¡¯t very good at disciplining her thoughts and the image kept coming back.

    Other than that, she was excited, almost joyous, at the reversal of fortune. Everything had seemed so hopeless only a few days before, but now? Socks had shown everyone a mental image of the forest and Ogena the previous morning, but in her mind, both places had already shrunk down to something she could accept. She was in for a surprise.

    Antelmu, on the other hand, just felt worse and worse as time went on. At first he was proud of himself for being hard as iron and not getting sad at all, but the loss of his horse opened the door to the loss of his family and each person added another layer to the lump of grief in his heart. His friends, too, who had been tighter than brothers. They didn¡¯t know yet. He spent the majority of the run suffering quietly, but he gave no serious consideration to turning back.

    Dirt had wondered if the boy might be too na?ve, but no, it was not adventure and glory he wanted, at least not for their own sakes. Which still would have been acceptable. But Antelmu¡¯s intentions ran a bit deeper than that. In his mind, the end of the tribe was looming close. Dirt supposed that the boy had been insulated from bad news when he was little, until very recently, when all the news of misfortune hit him all at once. He had a sense of urgency that seemed out of scale with what he¡¯d witnessed. Everyone wasn¡¯t going to starve because one field was no longer usable, or because they had to pasture the sheep somewhere else. He seemed to think they might.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    But regardless, his general idea was correct¡ªhe was joining the strange little boy and the giant wolf to fight against the mysterious gods and monsters that oppressed his people.

    They reached the small group of flat-topped mountains before the middle of the day and took a break to dig up the buried meat. Even after a couple days, it wasn¡¯t even frozen all the way through, but the cold had kept it from rotting.

    The older children stood close together and asked each other how they were doing and if the ride was too cold, that sort of thing. Dirt didn¡¯t listen in, but seeing them together, it was probably for the best to bring both instead of one. They looked like they needed each other.

    Antelmu tried not to look like he was staring at the carnage from the fight, but stare he did. The ground was stained black and red with blood, and bits of flesh and clumps of feathers were everywhere.

    Dirt pulled out his knife and started carving. ¡°How much do you think we should bring? It¡¯s gonna thaw out and start going bad if we take too much.¡±

    Socks sent him a mental picture of how much he wanted right now, from the center where it wasn¡¯t frozen yet, and Dirt obliged. He had to take it out in chunks, but it wasn¡¯t a huge amount. Socks¡¯s belly still had plenty from the last time they were here.

    They ended up taking six thick strips as long as Dirt¡¯s arm, packed in grass the other two dug up. After that, Dirt sliced a good number of thin slices and seared them with puffs of magical flame to eat for breakfast.

    ¡°Can I try that knife? How do you keep it so sharp?¡± asked Antelmu, but Biandina was right over his shoulder.

    Dirt grinned and said, ¡°I never have to sharpen it. It¡¯s an eternal blade. Ever heard of those?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± said Biandina. ¡°Can we see it?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± he said. He held it out and Biandina took it first. ¡°I found it in a crypt buried with a dead man.¡±

    She sliced, carefully at first with just the tip, but then her eyes widened and she sliced off a strip of half-frozen meat as long as her arm. ¡°What¡­?¡± she said, unable to believe it. ¡°How is it so sharp?¡±

    Antelmu carefully reached in and plucked it from her hand, unable to wait any longer, and did the same thing. He cried out in amazement, then gave a startled laugh. ¡°You got this in a tomb?¡± he said, eyes sparkling.

    ¡°Yep, underground. It was in the ruins of an old city of my people,¡± said Dirt. ¡°There are probably others.¡±

    Dirt didn¡¯t have to see their thoughts to watch Antelmu and Biandina decide they needed to explore ruins now, just like H¨¨ctor and Ignasi had when Dirt told them where he found it.

    Biandina tried to take it back and use it again, but Antelmu held her arm away with one hand then looked guilty when he remembered she didn¡¯t have another one anymore. He sheepishly handed it to her. They passed it back and forth until Socks decided they were done playing. They washed their hands off in some clean snow, which they had to march quite a distance to find, then stored the packed meat in one of Socks¡¯s harness pouches.

    Then it was back to running. As the day wore on, trails appeared in the snow. It must have been one huge storm that blanketed everything, and now all the creatures that had taken shelter were starting to come out. The snow was packed densely enough that smaller things could run right across the top.

    Birds and foxes and the tops of shrubs gave color to the area, although it was all still mostly flat, with white and blue meeting at the horizon in a perfect line. Before the mountains behind them faded completely from view, new clusters of hills popped up in the scenery and the landscape grew increasingly varied. They even found a copse of trees with a herd of deer hiding underneath, trying to stay out of the sunlight.

    Socks stopped to take a nap and Dirt joined him. The other two children stayed awake and chatted quietly, mostly things about home. Then Socks felt like playing more than running, so he and Dirt tried playing tag. It didn¡¯t work, unfortunately, because the snow slowed Dirt down much more than it did Socks, and they had to give up.

    Antelmu must have noticed how disappointed the pup was, because he picked up a snowball and said, ¡°Hey, Socks, watch this. I bet your boy can¡¯t do this.¡± Then he picked up another snowball, and another. Once he had three, he tossed them into the air and juggled. He was actually pretty good at it, and never got close to dropping one. He nodded at Biandina, and she put on a smirk and made another snowball. She tossed it into the mix, and then Antelmu was juggling four. He only stopped when the snowballs started coming apart.

    Dirt grinned and picked up three of his own. He tossed the first, then the second, and then had no idea what to do with the third. He ended up dropping all three.

    ¡°Here, let me show you,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°Try with just two first, like this. One, two, one, two. See? Do that.¡±

    Dirt tried with two, toss toss catch catch. It took him a few tries, but he got the hang of it.

    ¡°Okay, now, to do three, you just keep doing that, but a little faster so there¡¯s always one in the air. See?¡± Antelmu said, demonstrating again. He made it look easy.

    It was not easy. Dirt went through about twenty snowballs and gave up when his fingers got too cold. ¡°I feel like I should be able to do this, but it¡¯s hard!¡± he said.

    Antelmu gave Dirt a friendly, condescending grin. ¡°You¡¯ll just have to keep practicing!¡±

    Socks decided it was his turn to try, so he picked up two snowballs, and did the ¡®throw throw catch catch¡¯ thing with his mind. It wasn¡¯t so bad, so he added two more, then two more. It was one thing to swing things around while holding on to them all, and quite another to toss and let go so frequently. He ended up with twelve, catching six at a time.

    Dirt hid his thoughts and moved very, very slowly as he knelt and made a snowball. He stood, very, very, slowly, and hid the snowball at his side. He gripped it with his mind, keeping his body still, and then swung as hard as he could to throw the snowball. It landed hard right on the pup¡¯s forehead, surprising him so badly he dropped all twelve snowballs.

    Dirt laughed hard and then tried to scamper away as snowballs began to pelt him from all directions. He reinforced his skin with mana and spun, dancing between them and making himself a hard target. He even picked up another snowball and tossed it, but there was no chance of catching Socks like that twice.

    Antelmu made a snowball and handed it to Biandina, who went pale and looked in terror at Socks, with snowballs hovering around him ready to be loosed like a shot from a sling.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hit them in the face, or his testicles,¡± warned Dirt. Then he threw another one, aiming for Socks¡¯s side. The pup jumped out of the way and slid sideways to dodge the next one.

    -I know.-

    It was three versus one, but the children got hit a lot more than Socks did. Only the fact that Socks was such a big target and was trying not to get hit at all kept it from being a one-sided massacre. That, and he didn¡¯t throw them very hard. The humans could fall into the snow to be safe, and Socks couldn¡¯t.

    They kept the game going for quite a while, adding things like barriers and specific targets to lend some variety, and by the time they were done, Socks wanted to rest again instead of running, so they prepared to stop for the night.

    Dirt summoned a few warming embers to hover near all the cold human fingers and warm them up, then melted some water to drink. The evening meal was seared meat again, and they stored it in the snow to keep cold overnight.

    Night came and it got truly cold, and the humans huddled on blankets right up against Socks¡¯s belly again. The three of them didn¡¯t fit very well on one, so Dirt had his own and the siblings shared the other. They lay on their backs for a while, shoulder to shoulder, whispering quietly to each other. Dirt snuggled in against Socks¡¯ fur and summoned a few warming embers, which he shared.

    ¡°How far to the wolves¡¯ territory, do you think?¡± asked Dirt, aloud, for the benefit of everyone.

    -Just a few days. Maybe three or four. It depends on how fast we go.-

    ¡°I hope they¡¯re happy to see us.¡±

    -We will see. Good night, little humans.-

    Antelmu and Biandina said their good nights, then kept talking to each other. Dirt couldn¡¯t hear it, and decided that was fine. Let them have some time to each other.

    Finally, Dirt asked Socks mentally, ¡°What do you think about all this? I feel like we do too many things for me and not enough for you. I wish you could spend more time with your siblings and Father.¡±

    -I do not regret it. I am having fun. Visiting the new wolves is my thing, and we are doing that next. And I am still the strongest of my litter,- said Socks. -I do miss them, though. I want to roughhouse without worrying I will hurt someone. And Father teaches us different things than I am learning with you, things I need to learn. You cannot teach me how to be a wolf. But I am learning other things that my siblings cannot learn from each other. Someday, Father can teach me the rest, and I will know two sets of things.-

    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s a bad idea to keep fighting the Eye? We don¡¯t even really know what it is.¡±

    -It¡¯s too late to think something like that. You have two humans who have joined you expecting to fight.-

    ¡°That¡¯s true. I just want to know what you think, since we haven¡¯t talked about this aspect of it.¡±

    -I think that if we can ever find a way to get rid of it, we should. And I hate it. I want to kill it and I will fight it every time I see it.-

    ¡°Good. Me too,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I wonder how things might have been different if these were the first humans I found instead of Marina¡¯s party.¡±

    -Well, what if the first one you met was the guy who shot you with an arrow?-

    ¡°True. That really hurt, now that you remind me.¡±

    -It would have killed you if I wasn¡¯t there to lick it.-

    ¡°Also true. You save me in lots of different ways.¡±

    -You saved my life, too, remember. And we learned things together that saved my life other times, which I would not have learned alone.-

    ¡°Oh, I know. I¡¯m just saying thank you.¡±

    -You are welcome, dear little Dirt,- said Socks. He didn¡¯t feel like actually moving, so he sent a puff of affection and an image of licking Dirt¡¯s face.

    Dirt smiled and returned the puff of affection twofold. Then he said, ¡°You know what I wonder, now? After Biandina offered a sacrifice, and then we saved her life and killed the birds? I wonder if the gods are still listening. I wonder if they guided you to me somehow. Things like that.¡±

    -Who can say? Father and Mother don¡¯t seem to think the gods matter anymore.-

    ¡°I remember Father saying he was less free when the gods were still here. So I worry about two things, sort of. If the gods are still around, are they mad at me for breaking the world? Will they want revenge someday? And if they came back, what would happen to your kind, and to the trees? Do you think they¡¯d put the trees back to when they were ignorant and small?¡± said Dirt.

    -I think,- said Socks, -that the gods are probably gone. But if not, Father is on my side, and the forest is on yours, so even gods would have to be careful.-

    ¡°I¡¯m just going to say, so you never have to wonder in the future, that if fixing the world means hurting the wolves and the trees and the elementals, and maybe all the other wonderful things we haven¡¯t met yet, that I won¡¯t do it. I won¡¯t,¡± said Dirt.

    -I have not said so before, but to me, the world is not broken. It is a paradise. Everywhere is open, everything is free, and the world is stuffed full of enemies and prey and new sights and wonders. The fact there are some little humans in it just makes it more wondrous. I love it. I love being alive. And I love you, my own little Dirt, and I am glad you are with me.-

    ¡°I love you too, Socks. I¡¯m glad I¡¯m with you, too.¡±

    -What should we dream of tonight?-

    ¡°Let¡¯s take Biandina and Antelmu and see what¡¯s on the moon.¡±

 Volume IV - Chapter 1

    -It looks safe enough,- said Socks, sniffing the air and flicking the tip of his tail warily. The giant pup stretched his neck to peek in the tower¡¯s second story window, then stood on his hind legs and rested his paws on the wall to look into the third story.

    ¡°I only know what I was told,¡± said Biandina, scratching her mostly-healed shoulder with her remaining hand. ¡°The Square Tower is a cursed place and we should turn around if we see it.¡±

    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s really cursed, or that the elders know it¡¯s the wolves¡¯ territory past it?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Biandina. ¡°Either one.¡±

    ¡°Me neither,¡± said Antelmu, even though he had admitted earlier that no one ever told him about the square tower.

    Any other time, Dirt might have completely disregarded someone telling him a place was cursed, since that was nonsense and curses weren¡¯t real. But after recent events, he was a lot less certain. The tower was silent, seven stories tall and wide as a mansion, big enough Biandina¡¯s whole tribe could have lived inside if they wanted to. But it showed no signs of occupation, recent or otherwise. Its empty, soulless windows caught plenty of reflected light from the few inches of snow and banished any shadows that might have otherwise dwelled inside. If the brownish stone of the brickwork had been a shade or two paler, it might have reminded Dirt of dry bone.

    Game trails through the snow darted between the surrounding buildings, or what remained of them. This town was not as old as anything from his empire, and he didn¡¯t recognize it. But it was an old place, long abandoned, and Biandina knew it the moment she saw it.

    Antelmu stepped right under Socks to look in the door, bow in one hand and no arrow in the other. He peeked in only partially, too nervous to stick his whole head in and look around.

    -Well, I have looked with normal sight and ghost sight, and I don¡¯t hear or smell anything unusual. I can¡¯t say nothing was ever here, since the wind blows the air right through and gets rid of old smells. But nothing is here now, and my big brother and sister say this is where you should stay,- said Socks. He pushed off the tower wall and came back down, paws larger than boulders lighting silently on the ground.

    The pup was growing, but what made him look truly enormous was the poofy winter fur. Even though Dirt had watched it all grow in, it was hard to get a proper sense of perspective until he stood back and compared Socks with something, like the two humans anxiously standing near him. It seemed like every day, Socks looked less like a puppy and more like a wolf, which was regretful. But that was the way of the world. At least he wasn¡¯t getting less cuddly as well. More so, if anything.

    Biandina stepped right behind her little brother as if to push past him, but Antelmu held his bow out and stopped her. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said, more quietly than he intended. ¡°I¡¯ll go in first.¡±

    He visibly braced himself, squaring his shoulders and puffing his chest out, and stepped inside.

    ¡°Hey, Biandina,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Here, you can take this.¡± He took his dagger from its sheath and tossed it to her, catching it with his mind right before it got there so she could pluck it from the air without cutting her remaining hand.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said. She deftly changed her grip a few times, working on deciding how best to hold it with only one arm, and settled on just pointing it ahead of her. In she went, following Antelmu.

    Dirt sent a thought to Socks, ¡°So you think it¡¯ll be a few days?¡±

    -Perhaps. I might change their minds and come back for you after only a day. But perhaps not. I think I will spend a few days with them and see what they have to teach me. I have never talked to a mated pair who claimed their own territory before,- said Socks. -I am sure you will be fine but I don¡¯t like leaving you here.- He gave the slightest whimper, impossibly faint, to indicate his displeasure about leaving his pet behind.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t mentioned pups, so I guess they don¡¯t have any?¡±

    -I don¡¯t know, but Father said most of his children only produce offspring rarely because it is hard to protect them from the Devourer. He didn¡¯t mention other pups with this pack,-

    ¡°Now it makes me wonder, what happens when all the land is claimed? Do all the wolves just stop having pups until some of them die?¡±

    -The world is more vast than I know, and I know more than you. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s possible to run out.-

    ¡°Okay, but there has to be an end to it somewhere, right?¡±

    -I suppose. Mother said that if you travel far enough in any direction, you will eventually reach water that is salty and you should not drink it. I think we might have found the water if we followed the river that Ogena is on. H¨¨ctor mentioned boats traveling to other places, so it can¡¯t have been too far from there. But I think that water is very far from here.-

    ¡°How much land does each pack claim, exactly?¡±

    -How should I answer? What are some measurement words you want me to use? They claim enough to hunt on, and have some room to themselves, and somewhere for the pups to explore and play if they have any. Father and Mother claim much more than anyone else, though, because they can.-

    Dirt stepped over to the building, even though his interest was lower than expected. It wasn¡¯t ruins from his people, nor did it look like anything was left behind in it. And sure enough, once he peeked in, there wasn¡¯t much to see. An entryway with hollow doorways on either side, and a larger room farther in. No ornamentation on the brick walls. Biandina and Antelmu were out of sight, but Dirt heard them in the room to the left whispering anxiously to each other.

    -Are you offended you can¡¯t come?- asked Socks.

    ¡°Oh, no, not at all. A little disappointed, but I don¡¯t blame them. They can do what they like with their own territory, and I know what my kind look like to wolves. Small and squirmy, with flat little faces. But you can tell them that if they do decide to meet us, I will make some rakes out of wood and comb their fur.¡±

    -The first thing I want them to teach me is how to send my thoughts long distances like Father and Mother do, since they can do it too. Then I will talk to you. And if not, I will find you in the dream and we can talk there.-

    Dirt waved for Socks to lean down, and he did. The great pup lowered his nose to the ground and Dirt wrapped his arms around his snout, giving him the best hug he could. Then he scratched all over, everywhere he could reach. ¡°Well, I think we have everything from your harness that we need. Have fun. See you in a few days.¡±

    -The other two are worried they will not be able to protect you. They had better do a good job,- said Socks, trying to sound amused, but he was serious. -Goodbye for now, dear little Dirt.-

    ¡°Goodbye, Socks. Keep the havoc-causing to a minimum while you¡¯re in their territory.¡±

    -We will see.-

    Socks gave Dirt one little lick, with just the tip of his tongue so he only got Dirt¡¯s face. That was getting harder, too, the more the pup grew.

    And with that, Socks turned and sprinted, leaving empty swirling air in the space he¡¯d just occupied. His darkening gray fur stood out against the pale whites and grays of the landscape, which was far bumpier here than the plains Biandina¡¯s people lived on. Dirt watched him run for a time, then walked into the tower to find the others.

    Antelmu almost bumped into him in the doorway, walking back out. ¡°Oh, did Socks leave already?¡± he asked, noticing the conspicuous absence.

    ¡°Yep, just now. If you step around here, you can still see him running.¡±

    He did, and Dirt stood beside him. Together they watched for a moment, then he said, ¡°Oh, right, come on. Biandina¡¯s waiting. I came to get you so we can find a place to sleep tonight.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it fine anywhere?¡±

    ¡°No, it has to be somewhere we can defend in case something happens,¡± said Antelmu matter-of-factly. He gave the fur collar of Dirt¡¯s shirt sleeve a little tug. ¡°Come on. If the wolf is gone, then stay where I can see you.¡±

    That sounded like something the boy had been told himself, and often. Dirt gave a slight smile and followed obediently. It was strange, in a way; he saw the older boy through two sets of eyes. Through one set, Dirt¡¯s, the boy was older and stronger than him and knew much he had yet to learn. He walked proud and had muscle Dirt lacked, and heft and size. He knew how to hunt and fight like a human.

    But through Avitus¡¯s eyes, Antelmu was but a twelve-year-old child, not yet beginning his ascent into manhood. He was younger and smaller than Biandina, and even she still needed looking after. Antelmu was a nervous but courageous boy struggling to swim in deeper waters than he was prepared for.

    They walked through the doorway to the left and found a thick wooden staircase, in a part of the room the rain and snow from the window couldn¡¯t reach it. Biandina was most of the way up, peering around the opening as if she thought something might jump out at her.

    Socks had said it was safe, but Dirt checked for minds again, just to be sure, and found nothing other than the two children. Well, and some birds, but those weren¡¯t right up close. He peeked into their minds and it looked like they were pecking through the snow for seeds somewhere nearby.

    Dirt followed Antelmu onto the stairs and was surprised when they didn¡¯t even creak. That made him wonder where they¡¯d gotten the wood for such solid construction. Maybe there were forests nearby, or had been in the past.

    Biandina saw them and stepped warily onto the second floor. She checked the doorways and motioned for Antelmu and Dirt to follow.

    ¡°I appreciate you being careful, but Socks said there was nothing here, and that means there¡¯s nothing here,¡± said Dirt. ¡°The best thing to check for is places the floor won¡¯t hold us, so we don¡¯t step there.¡±

    ¡°If Socks could see curses coming, then what about the Eye? He would have warned us,¡± said Biandina, a tone of scolding in her voice. Antelmu scowled at her, but couldn¡¯t argue. Or didn¡¯t dare.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Dirt shrugged and said, ¡°And the other thing, I don¡¯t think the wolves would have said to stay here if it was that dangerous. I¡¯m sure they know what¡¯s on the edge of their own territory.¡±

    ¡°If you have time to complain, then go check that doorway. Quietly,¡± she said, putting some iron in her voice that she must have learned from her mother.

    He tried not to peek at their minds too often, since if he did, they¡¯d eventually figure it out and he wasn¡¯t ready to tell them. But he couldn¡¯t help but take a quick glance and it turned out Biandina was genuinely scared, and so was Antelmu, although less so. Fear, and maternal instinct to protect the younger ones. Socks was gone, and that left her in charge.

    Dirt decided to play along. He crept silently as a shadow across the empty room, watching to avoid stepping on any sand that had blown in, and looked through the doorway. It opened into another hall, with a series of smaller rooms across the way. He turned back and nodded again, then slinked through and went to look around.

    He kept moving quietly to make it harder to find him and give him different orders, and that made it fun. He listened with his best wolfish ears for any hint of motion, more to detect Antelmu than some critter, and went from room to room.

    None of the rooms stood out to him, nothing that could give him a clear indication of their purpose. Each room had a chimney and a spot to put a small fire, or maybe a brazier with coals. Lamp nooks were the only decoration in the walls, all empty. Most rooms were small, only six or so paces across, and maybe each one had belonged to a family, since that was around the size of most of their tents.

    Dirt found nothing but snow that accumulated near the windows and dry leaves that had blown in during a warmer season. No furniture, no decoration. Just brick walls, although well-made. And in good shape, although he didn¡¯t know how long ago the building had been made.

    He tried to sneak back over and surprise the other two, but Biandina spotted him down a hallway. ¡°Dirt, is the floor clear?¡± she said.

    ¡°Yep,¡± he said. ¡°Up to the next?¡±

    ¡°Once we find Antelmu. We need to stick together.¡±

    He was on his way back as well, with an arrow ready this time. He¡¯d found nothing, of course. Up they went, to the third floor, fourth, fifth. By the sixth and seventh floors, Dirt was ready to stop sneaking, but Biandina insisted with hisses and sharp gestures.

    After seeing the whole building, he still wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it. He suspected it was an insula and its sole purpose had been to house lots of people, but wasn¡¯t sure if that meant families, soldiers, or some other sort of person. And if it was an insula and its sole purpose was housing, why build just one huge one, and not a row of smaller ones?

    ¡°Oh, hey, Biandina, did anyone ever tell you what the Square Tower was actually for? Before it was cursed or whatever, when all the people left,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Yes, it was¡­¡± She stopped, deciding whatever lie she was trying to come up with wasn¡¯t convincing enough. ¡°I mean, no, they never did. It¡¯s just one of the landmarks they teach us when we¡¯re old enough to leave on our own.¡±

    ¡°What are all those holes in the wall for?¡± asked Antelmu. Dirt suspected he was changing the subject to avoid any questions about why he didn¡¯t know the landmarks.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± said Biandina. ¡°They look like post holes, but I can¡¯t imagine why you¡¯d put a post across the room.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re for lamps,¡± said Dirt.

    The two children looked again and decided Dirt was probably right.

    ¡°I think we should stay up near the top,¡± said Antelmu, changing the subject again. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure if he did it on purpose, or if his mind bounced all over like ten startled grasshoppers. ¡°So we can look out and see anything coming.¡±

    ¡°I was thinking the middle, so it¡¯s not too far to go up and down,¡± said Biandina. ¡°There¡¯s no water up here, and we¡¯ll be going up and down a lot.¡±

    ¡°Not that often,¡± said Antelmu. He couldn¡¯t take his eyes off the scenery, and Dirt realized the boy had never been this high up before.

    ¡°For one, you¡¯ll be running up and down all those stairs every time you have to pee! You can¡¯t do it in here and we don¡¯t have a pot.¡±

    ¡°I can pee out the window,¡± said Antelmu. Giving his sister a mischievous grin, he added, ¡°And so could you. Just sit up here and lean out¡­¡±

    ¡°Stop that. You¡¯re not peeing out the window.¡±

    ¡°Why not? There¡¯s no one here.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re just not.¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°I could always make a pot, if we need one.¡±

    Biandina gave him a dirty look, but he just shrugged. ¡°Where in the middle were you thinking? The fourth floor?¡±

    She paused, considering, then said, ¡°The second floor. If we have to, we can still jump out the window to get away.¡±

    Dirt played mediator and said, ¡°That makes sense. And we can still come up to the top floor whenever we want. We have several days until Socks comes back.¡±

    Both children found that acceptable and they headed back down to find a likely room. Dirt went ahead, since he was the closest to the stairs and had a room in mind. He led them down a corridor to a corner room, on the small side but with two windows so they could look in two directions. ¡°What do you think about this?¡± he asked.

    Antelmu looked back out the corridor and said, ¡°It¡¯s fine. We can put some brush in this hallway to wake us up if something comes.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be hard to squeeze out those windows,¡± said Biandina. She stepped over and looked out onto the ruined town surrounding the tower, and the collapsed walls at the edge of it. Those held her gaze for a long moment. ¡°I guess I can manage if I have to, though.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll just push you through,¡± said Antelmu, eyes sparkling with mischief.

    ¡°I wonder if we can find any oil. That¡¯ll make it easier,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need some kind of strong pole to push with if she gets stuck,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°Stop,¡± said Biandina sternly, but then a smile broke out and she shook her head. ¡°Don¡¯t be pests. What do you boys want to do before nightfall? Go try to hunt something, or just look around?¡±

    ¡°We can go look around,¡± said Dirt. ¡°It won¡¯t be long until night comes, so let¡¯s not start a hunt or anything.¡±

    They descended into the ruined town, or what was left of it. The snow here was only a couple inches deep and already melting off anything dark in color, but there wasn¡¯t much to see. Most of the ruins looked like the more damaged parts of Ocriculum, lumps on the ground without a single wall standing. It didn¡¯t even look like the roads had been paved.

    The other two followed Dirt, since he¡¯d set himself up as the ruins expert when talking about his exploits the last few days. They didn¡¯t find any doors leading into dark tunnels, or much else in the way of standing buildings. If Dirt had to guess, they¡¯d largely built with wood and it was all decayed and gone now.

    It didn¡¯t take long for the other children to get bored. Antelmu spent more time looking for things to shoot an arrow at, and nearly fired at birds more than once before deciding they were too small to eat or too far away to hit. He found some noisy bushes and collected some to make his hallway trap with, and then got truly bored because his hands weren¡¯t free.

    Biandina mostly spent the time stepping around nervously, head swiveling to watch for whatever disaster was on its way to befall them.

    Dirt relented, disappointed that there hadn¡¯t been so much as a mosaic floor to discover, and headed back inside with the others. A breeze was picking up, and when they made it to their room, they found that the wind whistled in one window and out the other, stirring all the air and making it more chill than before.

    They decided to use the next room over instead, with only one window, still a bit small for Biandina. Antelmu made a few trips up and down gathering the noisiest brush to set up in the hallway, and Biandina watched him out the window.

    Dirt took his knife back and started carving a warming spell into the crumbly tile floor. Shaping stone with magic was one thing, but shaping stone into the shape for a completely different spell seemed difficult and potentially dangerous, so he did it by hand.

    He¡¯d hardly gotten the first sigil carved, the one to accept mana when he was ready to charge it up, when Biandina asked what he was doing.

    ¡°The way magic works for humans, is we draw or imagine these symbols to tell the magic what we want it to do. We have to get it just right. I don¡¯t know why it¡¯s so complicated, but that¡¯s just how it is. Socks doesn¡¯t see magic this way, although he understands it from watching me. But I¡¯m going to carve a bunch of symbols into the floor that will keep the room warm for us overnight, since we don¡¯t have a big puppy and can¡¯t light a fire.¡±

    ¡°Where did you learn that?¡± asked Biandina. She squatted down and looked at his handiwork.

    ¡°I have a lot of books back in the forest that you can read, but you have to be able to use mana before they¡¯ll do any good,¡± he said.

    ¡°What¡¯s a book?¡±

    ¡°Do you know what writing is?¡±

    ¡°Yes, we have writing, and our elders bring it out to read on certain days, like the harvest or the spring.¡±

    ¡°A book is a collection of writing, all about one thing. If I were to write the story of all my adventures with Socks on one scroll, that would be one book. There¡¯s a whole library back in the forest, all full of books. Probably over a hundred. Maybe two hundred. I didn¡¯t count. And some of them are about how humans do magic,¡± he explained. He carefully traced a curve with the bare tip of the dagger, and once he was satisfied, ran over it a few more times to make it deep enough to be permanent.

    ¡°And you have to use mana? What¡¯s that?¡± she asked. She was leaning in a bit closer than normal, eyes eager and interest complete.

    ¡°That¡¯s the power from the world of magic. You have to know how to breathe it in to do anything with it. Once this is done, I¡¯ll put magic into this spell, and it¡¯ll keep the room warm for hours.¡±

    She watched intently as he worked, clearly trying to memorize it all. He explained piece by piece as he went, since it wouldn¡¯t do any harm. When he was about halfway through, dusk arrived, and he had to hurry. Antelmu was watching by then as well, traps complete and satisfied that he would hear anything coming.

    Dirt had to summon a light and a warming ember against the cold night before he finished, but he finally did, and his spell worked. A good charge of mana, and the floor warmed up so fast the children jumped to their feet in reaction, staring downward. Fortunately, he¡¯d done it right and it didn¡¯t turn the room into an oven. Just warm enough, and he was confident it¡¯d stay like that most of the night. And when it ran out, he could charge it back up again and go back to sleep.

    Biandina laid out the blanket for them to sleep on, and the other one to sleep under. The ground would be hard, but at least it wouldn¡¯t be cold. They snuggled in together, warm as ever. Together they lay in silence, listening or deep in thought. Dirt tried to figure out how to speak to Socks from a distance but made no progress. He mentally searched for the pup¡¯s mind, stretching himself farther and farther to look for it. Then he tried to summon it like an elemental, casting a picture of the pup¡¯s mind into the directionless mental world. That didn¡¯t work either.

    -Get up and close off the doorway.- said Socks, his voice faint and distant. Too far to hear any reply. Dirt was familiar with this, since it had happened last summer while they were separated.

    Dirt obliged and rose from his bed.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± asked Biandina.

    ¡°Just a moment,¡± he said. Then he inhaled some mana and spoke magic into the world, commanding the shape of the stone in the bricks to change. They were composite and didn¡¯t obey very well, but there was sand and pebbles in the mortar, and that worked, albeit inefficiently. He grew the mortar in several places into a sheet of bare stone a half-inch thick, wedged tightly into the doorway.

    ¡°There,¡± he said. He lay back down.

    With the added measure of safety, both children were able to rest their minds and sleep, and Dirt followed shortly after them, wondering if he could find them in the dream on his own. Usually they needed Socks for that.

    Deep in the night, something moved in the hallway. He woke with a gasp, heart pounding. The night was black, no moon anymore and the stars too weak to illuminate the room. The wind had died down as well, and Biandina and Antelmu lay unmoving to his left.

    Again Antelmu¡¯s bushes rattled. Faintly, only barely audible through the stone door. Dirt listened and heard movement in the next room over, through the window. And in the room on the other side. Something crept through the building, making a fabric-like rustling sound but no footsteps. It came from many places at once, outside on the ground, in the rooms to either side, in the hallway. Above him, along the brick-and-wood floor.

    Dirt very carefully extricated himself from the blanket to keep from waking up Biandina and stood. He stepped as lightly as a dust mote over to the window, where he peeked out to see what was going on.

    He saw nothing. The bands of bright stars stared down from the sky, but the land circling the tower was black, not the white snow he expected. All black, in a circle ten steps out from the wall. He stared, unsure what he was looking at. A chord of fear struck him for the first time. Maybe it wasn¡¯t safe here after all. What was that?

    Dirt decided to risk it and summoned a light, outside in the open air where it wouldn¡¯t wake the others. The blackness shimmered faintly and withdrew from the light, always too far no matter where he put it, and he never got a good sense of what that was. Another fog creature? Lots of little bugs? He couldn¡¯t tell.

    It retreated around the corner of the tower to avoid his spark of light and withdrew from his sight. The ground was bare down there now, devoid of any snow, just dirt and grass and collapsed brick. A short time later, the rushing sounds all around withdrew and faded, and all was silent again. Only then did he realize he¡¯d completely forgotten to look with his mind sight. He was groggy from sleep and had been neglecting using it much with the humans around, but that was no excuse. He resolved not to make that mistake again.

    He got little sleep the rest of the night, waking at every shift or shuffle to listen in case it had come back. When morning finally came, Antelmu was the first to peek out the window and he almost choked in surprise. ¡°Look! Hey, get up, you two. Look at that!¡±

    A trail of bare ground led from the tower off into the distance. From here, they could barely make out where it went¡ªthe trail of snowless ground track several miles into the distance, ending at something dark in the landscape, a dull gray surrounded by a bare patch of ground.

    ¡°What¡­ is that?¡± Antelmu asked, almost whispering as they crowded the window to see.

 Volume IV - Chapter 2

    ¡°I have no idea what that is. Have you heard of anything like it?¡± asked Dirt. He turned so he could gauge their fear and consider how much he wanted to share. Both children showed trepidation, but leaned toward him as if to listen better.

    ¡°Not me,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Or me,¡± said Antelmu, unnecessarily.

    Dirt said, ¡°I woke up last night and there was a rushing sound like whoosh, whoosh, shhh, shhh. It was rustling the bushes Antelmu put in the hall, but there was no door for anything to come in through. It was coming from all over, though, and I didn¡¯t know what it was, so I looked out the window¡­¡± He leaned out again and pointed at the circle of snowless ground around the tower. ¡°And I saw something black, like water, sort of, or fog. I¡¯m still not sure what it was. It seeped up all around the tower, but never came in our window. I made a light, and it didn¡¯t like that, and I chased it off. It didn¡¯t come back so I just went back to sleep.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you wake me up?¡± said Biandina, raising her voice, fist clenched.

    ¡°Should I have?¡± asked Dirt, taken aback at the sudden outburst.

    ¡°Yes! What if it was dangerous? Maybe I would have recognized it!¡±

    ¡°Do you recognize it from the description? Black foggy stuff, a little bit shiny, that goes whoosh, whoosh?¡±

    ¡°No, but¡ª¡±

    Dirt shrugged. ¡°I just didn¡¯t want to wake you up. That¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Okay, listen, when Socks isn¡¯t here, I¡¯m in charge, understand? You¡¯re a child, Dirt. You¡¯re too little to do everything on your own. That¡¯s not me saying something bad about you. It¡¯s just the truth. I don¡¯t care if you grew up alone in a forest and ate bugs all day with no one around to tell you no. Now you¡¯re here, and things have changed. I¡¯m in charge.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not in charge,¡± argued Antelmu.

    ¡°Oh? Then who is? You, little brother? Are you gonna fight me for it? I don¡¯t need both arms to bend you into torce-pane.¡±

    Rather than be intimidated or angry, Antelmu seemed exasperated. ¡°We¡¯re not at home. Mamma and Babbu aren¡¯t here to put you in charge. You can¡¯t just order me around all the time anymore,¡± he said.

    ¡°I¡¯m older than you, I¡¯ve seen more than you, I¡¯m smarter than you, and I¡¯m still stronger than you!¡±

    ¡°Shut up, Biandina, no you¡¯re not! Even if you had both arms I could beat you in a fight. Stop trying to do stuff you can¡¯t do.¡±

    ¡°Try me! With Socks here, I¡¯m happy to do what he says because, well, look at him. But he¡¯s not here, and Dirt doesn¡¯t even know how to tie three different kinds of knots. He¡¯s just a little boy, no matter how strong he is, so he can¡¯t be the one in charge. So why should it be you instead of me?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna take your orders, Biandina! And do you know why? Because you make stupid decisions!¡± said Antelmu, raising his voice. He was clearly angry, but there was a tinge of guilt on his face from voicing things he felt should stay unsaid.

    ¡°I make stupid decisions? That¡¯s a stupid thing to say for someone who¡¯s following me. Are you confident about your own smarts? You didn¡¯t even know about the Square Tower. Just because you won a horse early, you think you¡¯re our new Prosperu.¡±

    ¡°Well, neither are you!¡± spat Antelmu. Something in her words had hurt him. Dirt could see it on the boy¡¯s face.

    Biandina didn¡¯t back down, though. ¡°No, I¡¯m not, but at least I tried to do something about it! Maybe that was a stupid decision, but here you are, following my example like a good little lamb.¡±

    ¡°Why does anyone have to be in charge at all!?¡± yelled Antelmu.

    Dirt grew more perplexed the louder and hotter the argument got. Marina had argued with her two men, but never like this. ¨¨lia and M¨¤xim had disagreed sometimes and gotten annoyed, but never to the point of anger. If these two were siblings, weren¡¯t they supposed to be nicer to each other than to anyone else?

    ¡°You don¡¯t want anyone in charge? Maybe we should just split up and go our own ways. Maybe you can go find another horse, if you¡¯d rather be on your own. Maybe you can wander all the way back home,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Shut up! Why are you being like this!?¡±

    ¡°Why are you being like this! You started it!¡± yelled Biandina.

    Dirt interrupted, ¡°How mad are you two, exactly? Are you about to start fighting? Do I need to worry about someone getting pushed out the window and dying?¡±

    ¡°Mind your own business. You don¡¯t even know her,¡± said Antelmu. He turned to leave, intending to stomp out the doorway, but it was still covered in stone and he only made it two steps before he noticed and stopped. He huffed angrily and said, ¡°Can you open this, please?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Dirt.

    The room went silent, but it was not empty of communication. Anger swirled between the two siblings, tinged with guilt and no small amount of fear.

    ¡°Do you do this a lot? Argue like this?¡± Dirt asked.

    ¡°I said to mind your own business,¡± muttered Antelmu, growing surly, since he couldn¡¯t escape.

    Dirt ignored that. ¡°Trees don¡¯t argue and if wolves got this mad at each other, someone¡¯s guts would be on the floor. I don¡¯t have a lot of experience with humans, so is this normal?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not normal. He¡¯s just impossible to deal with,¡± said Biandina. She went to fold her arms, but couldn¡¯t. How long until she unlearned that particular reflex, he wondered?

    ¡°So are you,¡± said Antelmu.

    Dirt watched them for a moment, trying to decipher what was really going on. Peeking at their thoughts didn¡¯t help, since they were just repeating the same sorts of things they¡¯d been saying aloud. With more context, of course, like pictures of home and prior arguments, and with things they left unsaid. Horrible things that weren¡¯t true but might have worked to win the argument.

    ¡°I¡¯ve just never seen anyone get so mad at something without trying to kill it,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I didn¡¯t know humans could be like this. Nothing happened and you¡¯re trying to start a war. Tell you what, I¡¯ll just toss my knife on the floor and you can see who gets it first.¡±

    Both children shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Then what?¡± asked Biandina.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± said Dirt. Hoping this wasn¡¯t a fatal misjudgment, he threw it on the floor right between them. ¡°Go on. I won¡¯t interfere, if this is what you want to do.¡±

    Dirt took a step back and sat against the wall, then folded his arms around his knees to look as small as he could. That left Antelmu and Biandina towering over him, faces losing their fire.

    It didn¡¯t resolve everything, not completely. Both children were too stubborn for that. But it did end the argument. Antelmu kept an ember of resentment burning, lest he lose some of his blossoming self-pride, and Biandina retained her indignation, which seemed tied to her sense of worth.

    Still, as the painful silence drew on and the dagger sat untouched but not unwatched, the mood softened. The younger brother relented first and said, ¡°Biandina can be in charge. Until Socks gets back.¡±

    She quickly followed up with, ¡°I promise not to order you around for no reason. We can work together. Is that alright?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°I do need your help. I just want to be organized,¡± said Biandina.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Biandina.

    Antelmu picked up the knife gingerly and almost dropped it. The thought of actually hurting Biandina with it turned it hotter than red embers and he didn¡¯t want to touch it. He handed it back to Dirt.

    Dirt slid it back in its sheath and both siblings looked visibly relieved.

    Biandina turned to Dirt and said, ¡°Don¡¯t do anything like that ever again. We would never hurt each other.¡±

    ¡°You forget, I was raised by trees and my best friend is a wolf. Trees rarely disagree and they never argue, and wolves kill when they get that angry. I don¡¯t know where between those two extremes I¡¯m supposed to sit. I¡¯m learning to be human by watching you two,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I hope I learn correctly.¡±

    Both children lost a bit more of their anger, adding embarrassment in its place. They were still too stubborn to apologize, but that was fine. They were still children, for a few more years.

    Dirt sighed. Where had this come from, this little correctional? It had arisen instinctively and he felt like old Avitus, teaching¡­ someone. Had he ever had offspring? Dirt held his hand out and tried to remember the feel of a small head under his palm. Nothing came to him. Perhaps he had living descendants somewhere; maybe even everyone. Generation after generation as his seed spread from one line to the next through marriage, until every living human was his scion. Or perhaps Avitus had only had students and acolytes, and all that was left of him was Dirt and a cursed reputation.

    Well, he¡¯d have to try to keep the instructing to a minimum, or he¡¯d embarrass himself. Avitus might have been wise and knowledgeable, but to whatever degree Dirt was wise, he certainly wasn¡¯t knowledgeable.

    ¡°Can you open the door, for real? Or else I¡¯m gonna pee out the window,¡± said Antelmu, shifting his weight to his other foot. Biandina snorted out a sudden chuckle.

    Dirt shot to his feet. He said, ¡°I was fine until you said that. Oh, wow, I need to hurry now.¡±

    He kicked the thin stone sheet and burst through it, then ran down the hallway laughing. Antelmu raced behind him, but neither of them could run at full sprint, which made it even funnier. They both made it all the way down the stairs and out of the tower, with Biandina close behind. Exaggerated sighs of relief punctuated by giggling banished whatever darkness had descended on them earlier.

    After a slim breakfast, they followed Biandina up to the top of the tower to get a better look.

    From the seventh floor, the landscape was broader than the second floor, but they saw nothing new. A circle of snowless ground around the tower, and a wide trail of it leading off a good distance away, to a gray lump that looked like a rocky outcropping. That was all. The ground wasn¡¯t even wet¡ªthey¡¯d seen that when they went outside¡ªand the snow hadn¡¯t been pushed to the sides. It was simply gone, leaving flattened grass, and dry patches of pale, rocky soil.

    ¡°Do you think we should go see what¡¯s over there?¡± asked Biandina, nodding at the gray outcropping.

    ¡°Nope,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Maybe if Socks was here, or if you two weren¡¯t. I can run pretty fast if I need to get away, but not while carrying you two.¡±

    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t disturb it,¡± said Antelmu. He stepped over to a different wall, gazing out in a different direction. Then over to the other side.

    Dirt looked with his mind-sight for anything unusual, but nothing stood out. That gray lumpy area at the end of the trail was too far, if it had anything alive inside in the first place, and nothing edible was in range either. Maybe a bird would come by later.

    ¡°What are you looking for?¡± Biandina asked when Antelmu came back, making an effort to sound friendly.

    ¡°Somewhere else we could find shelter. I wish I¡¯d gotten my tent off Boulder, but it was folded under the saddle, and I didn¡¯t think about it,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°Did you see anywhere promising?¡±

    ¡°No. But there might be a cave or something. And there could be something in the ruins that we missed.¡±

    Biandina thought for a moment, then said, ¡°Antelmu, do you think you and Dirt could find some game?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Why just us? Are you gonna do something else?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s see if I can do this with one hand¡­¡± She raised her hand to her mouth, bent her fingers into a weird shape, and stuck them between her lips. Then she blew, and at first it just made a wind sound, but she tried a few more times with adjustments, and soon produced a sharp, loud whistle. She did it again and made an even louder one, so loud Dirt went to plug his ears.

    ¡°Looks like you can,¡± said Antelmu with a slight smile.

    ¡°Yep. I think what I¡¯ll do, is I¡¯ll stay up here and keep watch. If I whistle once, that means I saw something and you should come back right away,¡± said Biandina. ¡°I thought of something, and it¡¯s, what if the reason the wolves said to wait here is because it¡¯s the safest place? So we should stay here, if possible. I think we need to plan on that. But if I whistle three times, like this,¡± and here she gave three quick whistles, almost chirps, ¡°then that means I saw something, and you need to flee.¡±

    It took Antelmu only a moment to realize that she meant for them to leave her behind, and smacked his tongue like his mouth had suddenly gone dry. ¡°Okay. We can do that.¡±

    She added, ¡°Go the other direction, not toward that thing.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    The two siblings squared off for a second, and Dirt wondered if they were about to hug. They didn¡¯t, though, and Antelmu said, ¡°We¡¯ll be back soon.¡±

    Dirt followed the older boy down the stairs and back to the room they¡¯d slept in, where he collected his bow and arrows. Once he had them, Antelmu began walking quietly and descended the stairs.

    He took on a serious air once they got outside and stopped speaking, only motioning with hand gestures. Some were obvious, like ¡®follow¡¯, but for others Dirt had to look at Antelmu¡¯s mind to see what he meant. There was a signal for wind direction, and another that meant ¡®don¡¯t step on this¡¯, and one for ¡®game spotted.¡¯

    It was tremendous fun, it turned out, sneaking around like wolves. And they hunted very much like wolves did¡ªstay downwind from the prey, stay low, stay silent.

    They found a promising trail before long, a small herd of deer. Fresh droppings indicated that the trail was likely as recent as last night, meaning they would be close, and the two boys followed.

    Crouching behind a dry bush, Antelmu paused and motioned for Dirt to come close. He whispered. ¡°Deer are more active in the morning and evening, so we won¡¯t catch them sleeping. We just have to get close enough to get a shot. If I can get an arrow into one, it''s okay if it doesn¡¯t die right away. We can follow. Keep your eyes open and signal if you see something, okay? Tap me so I look, and go like this.¡±

    Antelmu showed him the ¡®target spotted¡¯ gesture, which was to point two fingers at your eyes and then at the target. Dirt mimicked it and nodded.

    The boy said, ¡°I¡¯ve hunted tons of deer before,¡± and Dirt nodded for that as well.

    Then they continued onward. The terrain was rough, but the deer seemed to prefer the easiest pathway, which led between rocky spots or thick brush instead of over or through. Antelmu¡¯s eyes were fixed on the trail ahead, so Dirt watched the sides and behind.

    He saw their minds before he saw the deer themselves. It was only a pair, and they had no antlers so Dirt assumed they were female. He picked what he felt would be the larger of the two, and tweaked its attention. It raised its head and looked around warily, but it still wasn¡¯t close enough for the boys to spot it.

    Antelmu followed the trail, and each time the deer went to move to the next bite of food, Dirt tweaked its attention with another mental pulse, keeping it in place. After another hundred paces, Dirt recognized the larger, thicker brush and tapped Antelmu on the shoulder. He pointed at his ears and nodded. A look of dismay passed over the older boy¡¯s face and Dirt saw him think, There¡¯s no way he heard something before I did he hasn¡¯t even hunted before I bet at least not without Socks and anyway I was listening but what if he did hear it first that would be embarrassing because I¡¯m the experienced hunter...

    If only Antelmu had any idea how much hunting Dirt and Socks had done, he might be less concerned about having to show off. Antelmu did move a little quieter after that, and Dirt gave nothing away. He simply followed, keeping the deer where it was to shorten the chase.

    Antelmu spotted their prey first, and Dirt knew the exact moment it happened from how the boy shook like he was startled. It was more pleasure that he hadn¡¯t been overshadowed, though, and they lay low to the ground while he considered where to position himself for a shot.

    From how wary and attentive the deer¡¯s posture was, Antelmu must have gathered that it was time for the utmost carefulness, and he moved slowly and silently. He waited until it turned away, then crawled forward a few steps, freezing when it looked back. This went on several times, and Antelmu was better at it than Dirt expected. Only once did the deer spot the movement, and it would have run if Dirt hadn¡¯t wiped the motion from its mind. But only once. Antelmu was sneaky after all.

    Finally, Antelmu felt he had a shot, and he raised his bow, very slowly. He fired without warning and the arrow flew straight, but his aim wasn¡¯t perfect. It hit high on the front shoulder, a hand¡¯s length away from the vitals in the neck or ribs. The arrow punched through the deer¡¯s shoulder blade, but only shallowly, and the beast jumped in terror.

    It only made it two steps before Dirt pushed its mind to sleep, causing it to tumble right into the ground. Was that cheating, on a human hunt? Probably not. They would have caught up to it eventually. Just saving time.

    The boys ran forward at top speed, and Dirt drew his knife. Dirt hadn¡¯t pushed the deer into a deep enough sleep¡ªit was already waking up and starting to get up before they reached it. But that was enough, and Dirt stabbed it a bunch of times in the lungs and neck before it could regain its feet, and that was that.

    Even though Dirt could have carried it just fine, he didn¡¯t want to get blood all over his new clothes, so they each took a leg and dragged it back along the snow, which didn¡¯t work well, but well enough.

    Biandina waved at them from the top of the tower, then came all the way down to greet them when they got closer.

    ¡°That didn¡¯t take you long,¡± she said, and there was nothing forced in her impressed expression.

    ¡°It just stood there and waited for us. Easiest hunt I¡¯ve ever been on. First arrow took it down, and then Dirt finished it off with his knife,¡± said Antelmu, beaming.

    ¡°Antelmu¡¯s pretty good at hunting. I didn¡¯t know what to expect, because I hunt with Socks all the time, but he did a good job,¡± said Dirt.

    That seemed high praise and Antelmu grinned.

    Biandina said, ¡°I¡¯m not surprised. Let¡¯s get this thing hanging over a window to drain the blood, and then we can butcher it later.¡±

    ¡°Can you two handle it?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Of course. Are you planning something?¡± asked Biandina.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be surprised in the night again, so I¡¯m going to take¡­ steps,¡± he said. He handed the knife to Biandina to butcher with, then stepped over to the wall. He traced a finger as he walked along the outside wall, turned the corner, and kept going.

    With each step, his mind raced as he plotted how to enchant an entire building. If they were going to stay here, then they were going to do it safely. He got to work.

 Volume IV - Chapter 3

    He wanted light. A flood of light, a lake of it, surrounding the whole tower, and it had to be ready by nightfall or he wasn¡¯t getting any sleep.

    He walked faster and faster as he thought. He peeked into windows and memorized the floorplan, thinking of where walls would be in the way of sigils and what he would have to do about it.

    The spell would have to be engraved in the stone, because the dirt and snow would never be accurate enough to hold something that size. It had to be perfect, or close to it. The magic only had two jobs¡ªstore mana and use it at an even rate to create light.

    He¡¯d been awfully proud of himself as Avitus, when he enchanted his villa to manage the temperature in each room. This would be ten times more complicated; the tower¡¯s main floor had twice as many rooms and was at least double the size overall, and it needed light everywhere.

    Dirt stopped and counted on his fingers. Forty¡­ fifty lights? Something like that? He walked the perimeter of the tower yet again, counting his steps this time. Every three steps, another light. He calculated one final time, muttering to himself. Around twenty-five. Twenty-two or three. Close enough. Then all the ones inside, so around forty. Forty lights, at even intervals outside and uneven intervals inside. It made his brain hurt just thinking about it.

    He gazed up at the blue sky, not really seeing it, or anything else. What would the general shape of the sigil need to be, for one? A circle with crossing lines? A square containing star shapes? How many corners did he¡­ If he put twenty-four lights, then he could have six along each side of the tower.

    Well, that was a start. He traced out several ideas in the snow with his finger, until he got smarter and found a stick.

    ¡°Hey, Dirt,¡± said Antelmu.

    Dirt nearly jumped out of his shoes. He was so startled he squeaked.

    ¡°Dirt,¡± said Antelmu, ¡°One day a talking goat showed up at the elder¡¯s tent, and the elder said, Wow, a talking goat! I¡¯ll have to send you to the Great Lord to be in his menagerie.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± said Dirt. He turned and stared at Antelmu, but he was so lost in his own thoughts that it took him two more breaths to be at full attention. All his plans flew to pieces, except the ones in the snow.

    ¡°Guess what the goat said?¡±

    ¡°Guess what the goat said?¡± Dirt repeated, completely off balance. What was going on?

    He said, ¡®Why would the Great Lord need another tailor?¡¯¡± said Antelmu, with a mischievous air to him.

    Dirt grew more confused and asked, ¡°The goat talked? Like Socks, or like a human?¡±

    ¡°Like a human. But the goat was a¡­ never mind. Do you know what a joke is?¡±

    ¡°Sort of. I tell lots of jokes with Socks, and sometimes with the other humans. But not like that,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Okay, why does a fish need a tent when it rains?¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°Fishes have tents? Wait, oh, um¡­¡±

    ¡°To keep dry!¡± The boy¡¯s eyes lit up with humor and he eagerly stared at Dirt, hoping for the same reaction. He didn¡¯t get one quick enough, and jumped right to another joke, ¡°Did you know I killed a ragnuli wearing just my pants?¡±

    Dirt just stared, not sure how to reply to that.

    ¡°I did. I don¡¯t know how it got them on, though.¡±

    Dirt snorted out a chuckle, a sincere one. Antelmu was so intent and thought he was so funny that Dirt couldn¡¯t help but giggle, his prior concentration fleeing completely. ¡°Okay, that one was funny. It reminds me of jokes Socks makes about the same thing. Stuff like, ¡®Do you think they¡¯d know I was a wolf if I put a hat on?¡¯ or ¡®Should I be worried I¡¯m the only one without pants?¡¯¡±

    ¡°Do you know any jokes?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°Not like that. I only know the kind where you say something funny based on what the other person is saying. I never heard one like that before,¡± said Dirt.

    Antelmu nodded and said, ¡°What are two things you can¡¯t have for breakfast?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, what?¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Did you forget what I sent you out here for?¡± said Biandina, coming up from behind.

    Antelmu pretended she hadn¡¯t spoken and said, ¡°Lunch and dinner.¡±

    ¡°Nope, to ask about water,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°No, that was the¡­ um¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I got it,¡± said Dirt, giggling again. That was clever.

    ¡°Looks like it,¡± said Biandina. She gave her little brother¡¯s head a gentle flick with her finger, but her smile was friendly instead of mocking. ¡°All right, tell him the mouse one. We all know it¡¯s coming.¡±

    ¡°What kind of mouse can jump higher than a wall?¡± said Antelmu. He pushed her arm away to prevent another flick.

    Dirt said, ¡°A magic one?¡±

    ¡°No, any kind of mouse. A wall can¡¯t jump,¡± said Antelmu.

    Dirt snorted and shook his head, grinning. These were pretty good! How many more did he know?

    Biandina just rolled her eyes, having heard it plenty of times before. She said, ¡°Stop there before you start on the ones that aren¡¯t for children. Dirt, would you mind¡ª¡±

    ¡°What ones aren¡¯t for children?¡± interrupted Dirt.

    ¡°¡ªWould you mind making a basin for water storage, and a bucket to fill it with? We should have a supply of water in the tower in case we can¡¯t come out,¡± said Biandina.

    Dirt glanced at their minds, wondering what jokes he wasn¡¯t supposed to hear. He didn¡¯t get anything clear, just a sense of obscenity. Not any images themselves, just the feeling. Oh well. They couldn¡¯t hide from him forever. He nodded and said, ¡°That¡¯s a good idea. I don¡¯t think of stuff like that sometimes, since I¡¯m used to relying on Home.¡±

    ¡°What home?¡± asked Antelmu. ¡°Huh?¡±

    Dirt pulled his sleeve back from the wooden bracer on his arm. ¡°This is part of a tree, the first one I ever talked to. Her name is Home, and now that I think about it, I wonder if she¡¯ll be upset I covered this with a sleeve.¡±

    ¡°Of course it was part of a tree. It¡¯s made of wood,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°What does that have to do with water?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, I mean, it¡¯s still part of a tree. She watches me through it, and if I weren¡¯t so far from the forest right now, I could just ask her for water and it would pour out. Same with food. Which was nice, because raw meat gets old after a while. You need to have a mix. Home, can you still see me? Sorry I haven¡¯t been talking to you much. You¡¯re not close enough to make water, are you?¡± said Dirt.

    The bracer only gave the hint of a vibration and remained still. Shortly after, another one. Was it a little stronger?

    Biandina and Antelmu gave him looks like they thought he was crazy, but didn¡¯t want to let on, which he found amusing. He rolled up the sleeve on his left arm to keep the bracer exposed just in case, and said, ¡°Okay, a bucket and a bigger bucket to store water in? How high up do you want it to be?¡±

    ¡°All the way at the top,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°Highest floor of the tower,¡± said Biandina, flicking her brother again. He dodged. ¡°If the thing you saw came and surrounded the whole tower, then we won¡¯t be jumping out to get away.¡±

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll do that now, and then you have to leave me alone for a little while. Okay?¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Why, what are you doing?¡± asked Biandina.

    ¡°You¡¯ll see if it works. And if not, then I wasn¡¯t really doing anything, was I?¡± said Dirt.

    They picked a suitable room at the top, one near a corner with only one window, by the end of a hallway. He wondered whether they should take turns watching the gray mound tonight, which was right over there, silent and unmoving.

    Dirt spoke to the exposed wooden beams in the ceiling, and despite being so ancient that their source was forgotten, the wood slowly responded and let him shape it. He removed a chunk, leaving most of the beam intact, and grew it into a basin shape with gentle coaxing, a foot deep and ovular. If only all magic was this simple.

    Then he shaped three buckets¡ªone for each hand the children had¡ªand said, ¡°Just pack the snow in tightly and bring it up. I can melt it later. I¡¯ll help, too, if I finish in time.¡±

    On his way down, he found the butchered deer leaning across a windowsill, with the guts missing. He wondered where they went and found them packed in snow just outside. That was good. He¡¯d have some liver later, he decided.

    Dirt paced off the inside of the tower until he was sure he knew the exact brick that marked the center, and even counted to be sure. Then he stood, staring at the ground while he decided how to proceed.

    Before long, Biandina and Antelmu headed up the stairs, carrying their buckets of packed snow. They gave him curious looks, but he returned only a blank little nod and ignored them. Forty or more lights, all part of one great sigil. One spell, enchanting the whole place. Maybe he should make one very bright light and have it hover over the building like a sun?

    Or perhaps he could just do four large lights, one on each side of the building, and have four sigils. It wouldn¡¯t be that much more work charging four spells than one. He¡¯d already have to wake up during the night, so what difference did it make?

    Unless one went out, and the darkness got in on that side of the building. That might be a problem.

    Perhaps instead of one large enchantment that created many lights, he could nest them. Have one spell whose only purpose was to lend mana to other spells, and each of those could be lights where he wanted them.

    That was an idea worth testing. He hadn¡¯t seen anything of the sort laid out in the texts, but that didn¡¯t mean they never tried it, or that it wouldn¡¯t work. Dirt made another bucket, a small one, and went back to the butchered deer. The blood outside pooled and melted the snow, watering it down to keep it from coagulating quickly. Dirt scooped some into his little bucket, then wandered over the field and into the ruins until he found a bare section of pavement that looked big enough.

    He lifted a sphere of blood from his bucket with his mind, about half the size of his finger, and carefully drew the enchantment on the stone. He nodded, pleased with himself when he saw how much quicker it was than carving it with his knife. His drawing wasn¡¯t perfect, but it didn¡¯t need to be, not for a test like this. Over here was the spell to create a simple hovering light, and over here was a spell whose purpose was simply to hold mana. Then he drew a connection between them, empowering with sigils that indicated transference, and stood back to make sure everything was right.

    Dirt leaned down and touched the drying blood of the storage spell and infused it with power. He felt the mana leave him, but saw no light appear. He paced around the enchantment, wondering where it was failing. He rubbed some snow on the connection between the two to break it up, then made a larger one right next to it, and used just one sigil¡ªpass between separate segments. Except he closed that sigil off, changing its meaning from segments to, he hoped, separate effects or spells. It didn¡¯t work.

    Where was an elemental when you needed one? He needed an expert to ask.

    He tried one more connection between the two, and this one he composed from emit, intake, and transfer, as well as the sigil for mana itself.

    It did not work either. So how were you supposed to link separate spells, anyway? It was one thing to see magic as a process of patterns, like the elementals when they spoke. One thing after another, always morphing and shaping and moving. Many effects from one spell, a world of significance in a single series of patterns. But two separate spells at once, linked and cooperating? That¡¯d have to be something like the process of speaking with an elemental itself. How could you write that down to use?

    Well, four big lights it was, then. He doubted he had time to carve much magic into the stone anyway, even with most of the day left.

    He glanced up at the tower and found Biandina and Antelmu staring down at him. When they saw they¡¯d been caught, they waved and retreated back inside, as if it had been incidental. Something about their behavior seemed guilty, though, which made him smile to himself.

    Dirt drank the rest of the blood in his little bucket, and it tasted old and watered down and the flavor was off. He¡¯d never had it cold before and hoped he never would again. The aftertaste reminded him of mud, so he washed it down with three handfuls of snow.

    He didn¡¯t really need his knife back for this. He spoke magic into the brick exterior of the tower to soften it, then traced his finger to draw the sigils. The spell kept it from crumbling away, and he found himself humming a song H¨¨ctor had taught him as he worked. One, a nest to make a home, two, a pair of birds to mate, three, the eggs they watch with care, four, the worms the birds bring back¡­

    Dirt worked slow and careful, doing his best to make the curves circular instead of lumpy, and the lines straight instead of wobbly. The more accurate it was, the more efficiently it would use the mana. Actually¡­

    He stood back and asked the entire wall to soften, and when he was satisfied that it did, he pressed part of a sigil into its place with his mind like a stamp. It worked marvelously, aligned and drawn exactly how he wanted it. It was nearly trivial after that, and the first light spell was engraved in the tower far faster than he¡¯d hoped.

    Dirt pressed mana into the enchantment and a bright ball of light appeared just over his head, right in the center of the wall. He watched, keeping a steady trickle of mana from his finger into the spell, to see how fast it would drain. Better than expected! Still probably wouldn¡¯t last the whole night, but he had another plan for that.

    He moved to the next wall. Before he started, he calmed himself down lest his excitement lead to mistakes. Discipline and sincerity, Dirt, he told himself. Discipline. With his emotions schooled back into their places, he began. He spoke the magic into the wall to make it pliable, then shaped the enchantment piece by piece with his mind. It took only a few moments and would have been faster if mortar and brick behaved the same.

    Then around to the third wall. Antelmu and Biandina were there, just finishing packing up their buckets, and he gave them a dignified nod and went to work. He allowed himself a hint of pride at how well this was working, and Avitus wondered whether this was a new skill for him, or something he had known in his old life.

    This wall took him a little longer than the second, but only because its surface was more irregular, with weathering having eaten gouges in the bricks and a good portion of mortar crumbled away to nothing. But given time, it bent to his intentions.

    There was something pleasing about it, something stately and grand about simply seeing his will manifested in the world right in front of him. He glided to the wall and pressed mana into the sigil, and it was even more efficient than the first, nearly as perfect as if he¡¯d drawn it with rule and compass. The light was bright enough he felt heat on his hair.

    The children said something to him, but he was busy and ignored them. For only an instant. Ah, Dirt, you are old Avitus no longer, and these are not your pupils, they are your friends. He turned and said, ¡°Sorry, what?¡±

    ¡°I said, what is that?¡± asked Antelmu, repeating himself. ¡°That¡­ drawing.¡±

    ¡°That, dear child, is the form by which magic may be manifested into the world,¡± said Dirt, speaking like an old man. He scowled at himself and made himself shiver, as if to shake away his foolishness. ¡°Sorry. I was really concentrating. But that¡¯s magic. It¡¯s how humans do it. Signs and sigils arranged into a spell, then given power. This one makes light and stores mana to keep it going for a long time. I¡¯m doing them on all four sides.¡±

    ¡°Is that what the blood was?¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Yep, I was thinking of a way to do it and wanted to try some things out. I don¡¯t have any ink so I used what was available,¡± he said.

    ¡°Something about that looked really¡­ wrong,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°Those drawings with blood were, well, they made Biandina nervous.¡±

    ¡°And you,¡± she complained.

    Antelmu didn¡¯t concede.

    ¡°Those weren¡¯t curses you drew, were they?¡± asked Biandina after a moment of silence.

    Dirt shook his head. ¡°Nope. That was real magic, not curses. Nothing like a witch or a sorcerer.¡± The very thought almost made him angry. Him, a sorcerer? A witch, chanting curses in a market for coin? Were they blind? No, but they were children. He pushed the thought away.

    ¡°So what¡¯s the plan here, Dirt? Are these going to stay lit all night and keep the black stuff away?¡± said Biandina, stepping closer to the wall to examine the enchantment more closely.

    ¡°That¡¯s the plan,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Just one more, and then I¡¯ll go check on them all just to make sure everything is fine, and then I can help carry snow up to melt.¡±

    Biandina and Antelmu didn¡¯t say anything, but they followed to watch. Dirt led them around to the final face of the tower, the one with the door they¡¯d been using. He schooled his mind back into focus and spoke the magic of softness into the brick and mortar. Then, just as before, he pressed the enchantment into the wall, bit by bit, like a stamp. Gently, slowly, perfectly. Every action deliberate and measured.

    It was perfect. He almost hated to let go of that feeling, but he did, and came back to himself. ¡°There. That should be it for now. Let me go check the others real quick,¡± he said.

    ¡°We¡¯ll come,¡± said Antelmu, stepping already.

    What they found on the first side of the tower where Dirt had started was not a magical sigil, however, and not a glowing light hovering in the air. What he¡¯d drawn was completely overwritten with a new drawing three stories tall.

    The lines now drew a crude, mocking figure of a child, with a fat round belly and exaggerated facial features. Big ears, a big nose, and a long tongue sticking out at them. It was perfectly hideous.

    The three of them stared in complete confusion.

    Biandina spoke first. ¡°Dirt, what is this supposed to be?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­¡± he said, almost a whisper. How was this even possible? How could¡ª

    He was interrupted by laughter from the drawing. The wall itself laughed at them, high pitched but more mature than boyish. The other two children seemed unsure if Dirt was doing this himself, playing some sort of prank, and didn¡¯t react as strongly. Another voice laughed from nearby, in the wall. Then a third, feminine, from the ground right in front of them. Then a fourth, right behind. All three children spun, and there was nothing there.

    The laughter stopped, but one last chittering giggle drifted on the empty air and faded away. They turned back to the wall and found the crude drawing gone, and now the enchantment stood just how he¡¯d left it. Only its lack of mana told him that anything had happened to it in the first place.

    ¡°What was that?¡± said Antelmu, dread clawing its way out of his throat and softening his voice.

    ¡°No idea,¡± said Dirt.

 Volume IV - Chapter 4

    ¡°It was the blood. It¡¯s a curse,¡± said Antelmu, standing rigidly, eyes wide as he peered around to look for the next threat.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a curse and it wasn¡¯t the blood,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I was just doing the same thing there that I did on the wall.¡±

    ¡°That wall?¡± said Antelmu, pointing.

    Dirt scowled at him. The older boy was completely wrong, of course, but since Dirt had no idea what just happened, it wasn¡¯t an argument he could win.

    Biandina said, ¡°Maybe we should get some water and go wash the blood off. Ruin those drawings. I don¡¯t think we can do anything about the wall anymore, but, well¡­¡±

    ¡°That would be a waste of time,¡± said Dirt. ¡°But I won¡¯t stop you, if it¡¯ll make you feel better.¡±

    ¡°You sure can be smug sometimes for an eight-year-old, you know that, Dirt?¡± said Biandina.

    He glanced sideways at her. She wasn¡¯t annoyed, not really; she was concerned and scared and completely lost. He knew the feeling.

    Dirt thought how best to approach this, which made him miss Socks. There was never any real confusion or misunderstanding between them. Maybe Biandina should learn to read minds after all?

    The moment of silence quickly filled with dread as each of them started listening for more laughter. It wasn¡¯t ghosts, was it? Not in the daytime, out in the sunlight. They didn¡¯t like light.

    Biandina spoke hastily, almost as if trying to find something to say after she started, not before. ¡°The magic is carved right into the brick now, so it won¡¯t be easy to fix. So I won¡¯t ask you to try and¡­ polish it, to make it gone. And I know you put it on the wall to glow, and I saw the light. I know that¡¯s why you did it. But maybe that¡¯s not all you did. At least, did on purpose.¡±

    Dirt was about to deny it again, since it was ridiculous; but then he remembered what had happened when he fixed the goddess statue. That had been the Eye, though, and this wasn¡¯t. But could he say for certain it wasn¡¯t something similar?

    He turned his attention to his mind-sight and looked for living creatures, particularly half-dead ones. Even something tiny. But he found nothing unusual. He found hardly anything at all. Antelmu and Biandina¡¯s minds, their worry plain to see. A few timid mice that were probably surprisingly close. A predatory bird of some kind. Dirt looked up to see it gliding to a perch in one of the upper tower windows.

    ¡°So now what?¡± asked Antelmu, also shifting uncomfortably in the silence. ¡°Are we safe to stay in there, or do we need to go find somewhere else?¡±

    ¡°First we¡¯re going to wash that blood off,¡± said Biandina. ¡°And you¡¯re helping,¡± she added, pointing a stern finger at Dirt.

    ¡°Fine. What are we going to use to clean it? Water, and what else?¡±

    She froze, but only briefly. Then, as if it had been the plan all along, she said, ¡°We¡¯re just going to cover it up by kicking dirt over it.¡±

    ¡°The ground¡¯s still frozen, though,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I thought you were supposed to be strong. Figure it out,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be mean,¡± said Antelmu.

    She glared at him but calmed herself down before losing her temper. ¡°I am not being mean. Dirt, you agreed I was in charge, didn¡¯t you? So just do this, please,¡± she said, her eyes somewhere between imperious and pleading.

    She was right¡ªhe¡¯d agreed. And what could it hurt? May as well encourage her. He nodded resolutely and said, ¡°We can figure something out.¡±

    Covering the blood marks all over the paved court was harder than any of them expected. The ground was indeed frozen, and whatever sandy gravel they could kick over the drawings only got them dirty, not covered. They eventually resorted to simply dumping a bunch of snow on it and burying them that way, but that took quite a lot of snow, and the three inches of thin powder that remained were melting into one soggy inch as the sun climbed higher.

    While they worked, the three of them kept watch on the gray mound in the distance, as if they expected movement. They also filled the air with pointless chatter or humming, nervous when they let the silence grow too potent. Dirt kept watch for minds as well, despite how that distracted him from the physical world, but nothing came close that shouldn¡¯t be there.

    Still, it took forever. The mood they started with was not the one that greeted them at the finish. Biandina said, ¡°Thanks,¡± but she didn¡¯t have to. Dirt could easily see that she felt relieved. Not completely; she retained an air of wariness. But having done something and letting time pass, pointless or not, had helped.

    Antelmu, on the other hand, had grown more sour as the job wore on, stomping and muttering about his hands being cold and giving the shortest answers possible. But Dirt had peeked at the boy¡¯s mind to see what was the matter, and his irritability was fueled by simple hunger.

    They hurried back to the tower and hid their hesitation to enter once more. Nothing happened when they crossed the doorway. No weird laughter.

    Dirt went right for the deer and ate some liver. Antelmu and Biandina didn¡¯t want anything raw, hungry as they were, and had to climb all the way to the top floor¡ªthe supplies were in the new room on the seventh floor.

    They came down to find him sooner than he expected, before he¡¯d had a chance to go double check the enchantment that had been tampered with. Antelmu was still chewing. Biandina said, ¡°Good, you¡¯re already here,¡± even though she knew that. ¡°Have you ever heard of drying meat?¡±

    ¡°Is drying different from cooking?¡±

    Antelmu said, ¡°You know the meat we¡¯ve been eating? It¡¯s dried, not cooked. It¡¯s different. It lasts longer.¡± The fur collar around his neck was glistening and dripping with water, which told Dirt he¡¯d dunked his head into the water basin. And probably been smacked; Biandina hated that. Only Socks was allowed to drink like a wolf.

    ¡°First thing we need to do is cut all the meat into thin strips. Antelmu can do that. It¡¯s a job that takes two hands,¡± she said. She nodded at Dirt¡¯s knife.

    Dirt handed it over to the older boy and leaned in to watch. First, Antelmu carved the entire skin away in one piece. Biandina had already started the process when she got the guts out. Which made him think her statement that it required two hands wasn¡¯t fully honest.

    Antelmu laid the hide across the window where the deer had been, then got to work carving every bit of meat into thin strips two fingers wide, like the supplies they¡¯d brought. He worked with a deft hand, remarking, ¡°This knife makes this really easy.¡± But even with the ancient blade, Dirt could tell the boy had a lot of practice. There was no hesitation in his movements.

    Biandina stacked the dried meat on a cloth she¡¯d brought for the purpose, wincing at the blood that was still leaking into it. Hanging the corpse over the windowsill to drain didn¡¯t seem to have done much after all. The stack grew taller than Dirt expected, judging from how much smaller the meat looked when it was still on the animal.

    Once that was done, Biandina said, ¡°We don¡¯t have anything to wash the bones, but do your best to scrape them off and lay them out to dry. Except the leg bones; I need those. Then we need to flesh that hide.¡±

    ¡°Are we going to tan it?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°It sounds like Socks will be gone for a few days, so we may as well try. We have the brains and fat. We can at least dry it.¡±

    ¡°Where are you going to put the fire to dry the meat?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°Outside,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°No, let¡¯s do it upstairs where it¡¯ll keep the room warm.¡±

    ¡°The room we picked isn¡¯t big enough.¡±

    ¡°Then we can pick a bigger one.¡±

    ¡°Can we just do what I say, please?¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°When you don¡¯t say dumb stuff,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°Why waste all that heat? I¡¯m freezing.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want the fire to weaken the floor. It¡¯s really, really old wood underneath, remember? What if it smolders and chars and collapses out from under us?¡± she said flatly.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Antelmu. His eyes glazed over while he thought about that. Dirt suspected neither of them had enough experience with wood to know either way, and for that matter, neither did he. Most of his experience with wood involved conversations.

    Dirt said, ¡°I don¡¯t know about the floor, but I do know that if we put the meat outside, predators will smell it and come for it. I bet they show up anyway, with all this blood. And the innards. Which, are you going to do anything with those?¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Biandina said, ¡°I didn¡¯t think about predators. The last thing we want is a pack of ragnuli.¡±

    ¡°If you want fire to cook with, why not do it here, where the meat already is? I doubt there¡¯s wood under the first floor. That way if something comes, at least we¡¯re inside already,¡± said Dirt.

    The older girl gave him a tired look, but she agreed. ¡°Fine. That¡¯ll keep us together, too. All right, Dirt, come help me get some coal.¡±

    Dirt and Biandina made their way up staircase after staircase, all wide enough for Socks to climb up. Not tall enough, but Dirt wasn¡¯t sure why they¡¯d make them so wide. It made the building look even emptier than it was. So much unused space, and nothing beautiful or appealing about it. Just a really wide staircase. The uniformity of the pale brown brickwork gave a sense of sterility that he found slightly disconcerting. Perhaps it would be different with decorations, as humans often had on their dwellings. Otherwise, he couldn¡¯t imagine anyone choosing to live here for long.

    The exact moment they opened the bag to grab some coal, Antelmu screamed, distantly. His high-pitch shriek echoed faintly through the halls and came in through the window. He screamed again and again, each time he could take a breath.

    Dirt jumped out the window, filling his bones with mana and hoping it would be enough. He hit the ground before he could count to three and landed hard, hard enough to rattle him despite the mana, but he was fine. He sprinted around to the bloody window where Antelmu was and saw nothing unusual outside. He jumped in ready for war and found Antelmu sitting in the corner, holding the knife with both hands, eyes wide in shock and horror.

    There was nothing else here. The deerskin lay over there, and the butchered skeleton, mostly intact, was under the window. Blood was scattered everywhere, but that was expected.

    ¡°I-i-i-i-it ta-ta-ta-ta talked. The d-d-d-deer,¡± stammered Antelmu. It looked like he was so rigid he was having trouble speaking.

    Dirt looked at the deer skeleton and there was nothing interesting about it. Nothing at all. Then he looked for minds and caught a glimmer of something strange. A distant mind just retreating beyond his view, with a different feeling than he¡¯d ever encountered. Not half-dead, nor empty. Just strange. How strange, he had insufficient time to determine. Or why. All he caught was a sense of amusement, and then it was gone.

    He scowled. ¡°What did it say?¡±

    ¡°I-i-i-i-it said it was c¡­ c¡­¡±

    Dirt looked at his mind and found the boy in a dazed state. He had a string of clear thought, but couldn¡¯t turn it into real awareness or get control of his body. Awake, but not in control of himself. The terror had shaken him completely out of his wits. He stared at the deer skull, expecting it to move again and hoping with all his might that it wouldn¡¯t.

    ¡°I puuuuut it over the¡­ the uh¡­¡± said Antelmu.

    Dirt knelt and tried to get the boy to look him in the eyes. Antelmu leaned to one side to keep staring at the skeleton.

    ¡°Antelmu!¡± shouted Biandina, faintly. It sounded like she was still only halfway here.

    Dirt waved a hand in front of Antelmu¡¯s eyes and the boy¡¯s terror began to crack. He sent him mental puffs of calmness and reassurance. Just little ones, lest he overwhelm the boy or cause him to catch on. Just enough that he thought it was himself. A puff of courage.

    ¡°Hoo, wow,¡± exhaled Antelmu. ¡°I¡¯ve never been so scared. Uh oh¡­¡±

    He leaped to his feet and tried to hand Dirt the knife, but dropped it from his stiff and trembling fingers. He raced to the window and vomited loudly, almost tipping over and falling out before Dirt grabbed his belt. The water and dried meat he¡¯d eaten splashed noisily on the ground and Dirt decided he didn¡¯t want the rest of the innards after all.

    Antelmu was still leaning out the window, whole body going rigid in jerks as his stomach forced out everything it contained, when Biandina finally burst into the room. She held a lump of coal in her hand, raised and ready to smack something with.

    ¡°Antelmu!¡± she shouted.

    ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Just got a little scare. Okay, a big scare. A big, big one. But he¡¯s fine.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± she shouted again, even as she rushed to the window and pulled him back in. Fortunately, he was done vomiting by the time she reached him. She kicked the deer skeleton away so he wouldn¡¯t trip on it and led him to a clean spot of floor to sit down.

    Antelmu slumped down like an empty bag and exhaled in relief. ¡°Wow, that took a lot out of me.¡± He forced a chuckle.

    Dirt responded with a friendly grin, but Biandina insistently repeated, ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Hold on, let me wash my mouth out first,¡± he said. He stood on wobbly feet and walked out of the room with a determined air. Dirt and Biandina followed him, right out of the tower and toward a nearby section of field where the snow hadn¡¯t been touched. With it, he washed his face off and ate some to cleanse his mouth.

    Biandina gave him her most impatient scowl and he finally relented. ¡°I hung the deer skeleton over the window so I could clean it easier, and the front half came alive. It turned its head and looked at me and said, ¡®Put my skin back on, I¡¯m getting cold.¡¯¡±

    Dirt sent the boy another mental puff of confidence and it helped. Antelmu looked toward the tower and swallowed nervously, but chose to walk back inside.

    ¡°What do you mean it came alive?¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°I mean, it turned and looked at me. It even moved the eye that¡¯s still in. The front legs pushed against the wall and it turned its head and said what I said.¡± The older boy tilted slightly and said, ¡°Uh oh.¡±

    He fell to hands and knees and vomited again while Dirt and Biandina stood by uselessly. Poor Antelmu retched over and over, even after his stomach was empty and there was nothing left to expel.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been so scared in my life!¡± he said weakly. Biandina helped him to his feet again.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been so scared I peed, but never so scared I vomited,¡± said Dirt. ¡°And I¡¯ve even seen a moving skeleton before. Except mine tried to kill me.¡±

    Antelmu washed his mouth out yet again, then stood. Biandina tried to take his arm to help him walk, but he shook her off. ¡°I¡¯m fine. I think that was the last of it.¡±

    Dirt looked around for minds again, just to see if whatever it was had come back to see the results of its prank. And to his surprise, he found one. A large one, human-sized, close enough that it might be standing right beside them.

    He did his best to give no indication, choosing instead to watch it carefully to see what it was. Even so, he inhaled mana in case he had to punch it. He wished he hadn¡¯t left his knife on the floor.

    It wasn¡¯t just one. There were others, at least three, a bit farther. Or dimmer, anyway. As he peered into their minds, he recognized the same strangeness as before. It was the same creatures, he was certain. And as before, they were amused. Laughing, even. They were speaking to each other, but made no sound. It was as if each of them was both dreaming and awake at the same time. The minds themselves felt like something from a dream. Living dreams? Watching the waking world?

    The closest one was walking beside Biandina. No, walking was the wrong word. It was dancing. But the mind was all there was¡ªno movement, no sound. It didn¡¯t even stir the air as it moved.

    Dirt burned a bit of mana to suddenly leap over and take a swing with his fist. It passed through empty air, right where the thing should have been, judging by its visual perspective. It laughed, and the others joined in, and only when Biandina and Antelmu froze did Dirt recognize that the laugh was audible.

    The sounds retreated toward the gray mound off in the distance, and the minds faded and vanished.

    ¡°All right, you know how I said it would be a bad idea to see what that gray hill thing is?¡± said Dirt, pointing at the mound. ¡°I¡¯m going to do it anyway. Something over there is playing with us. I won¡¯t get too close, but I have to go see.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m coming,¡± said Biandina. ¡°Antelmu, go back and wait in the¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m coming too,¡± he said. ¡°I feel better now.¡±

    ¡°You are not! Look at you, you¡¯re shaking!¡±

    ¡°I am not!¡± he protested, but when he looked at his fingers, they were trembling. ¡°Don¡¯t make me go back alone,¡± he said quietly.

    ¡°Come, then. We¡¯re not getting that close anyway. Just close enough to see what it is,¡± said Dirt. In his mind he began measuring the landscape, looking for places to make a stand to give the children time to run away. There really wasn¡¯t anywhere like that. This was a bad idea. But neither could he leave himself and the other two at the mercy of whatever those things were.

    They walked with eyes wide and ears stretched to listen. It was a long walk¡ªseveral thousand paces¡ªand Antelmu stopped shaking long before they got there. The strange gray mound revealed itself only slowly, and there was little to see. Just a pile of something gray in a featureless heap about as tall as Socks at the shoulder. The snowless ground around it was the only thing that made it stand out at all.

    About halfway, Dirt noticed a flower, a little red one, growing out of the snow right beside the path. Then another, and suddenly there were dozens. Just as quickly, they faded. A dozen paces later, a giant hole appeared in the ground, right where Biandina was about to step. He grabbed her shirt and yanked her off-balance to stop her, but it was too late and her foot landed on empty air. Except it wasn¡¯t. The hole vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

    ¡°What?¡± she said, turning to give him a wary look. ¡°Don¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°Did you not see the hole?¡± Dirt asked.

    ¡°What hole?¡± she said.

    ¡°Never mind,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see it either,¡± said Antelmu.

    Visions changed the landscape as they walked, and the other children sometimes noticed before Dirt did. Sometimes they saw different things at the same time. One time, the snow became grass. Another, the road filled with snakes. Something tugged Dirt¡¯s hair, hard enough to sting, and he swatted empty air with his arm. The mysterious minds were all around them now, but their numbers kept changing. Sometimes there were three, sometimes four, sometimes seven or nine.

    Biandina and Antelmu were both struggling to keep their sanity. Only the fact they¡¯d have to run back alone seemed to keep them moving forward. They held hands and walked so close their shoulders touched. Dirt walked beside them, worried that if he took the lead something would happen where he couldn¡¯t see it.

    The mound stayed featureless, but the landscape around it didn¡¯t. Some of the changes were permanent, like tufts of green grass that stayed after being stepped on. Most were not. Nothing harmed them, though, and Dirt grew more and more convinced that whatever these dream-creatures were, they were unable to cause any harm during the day. Or hadn¡¯t yet.

    They kept approaching, much closer than Dirt had intended. But the constant tricks and lies and pinches they were receiving made turning around without answers increasingly unacceptable.

    After getting within fifty paces, Antelmu was the first to make it out¡ªa ring of alternating mushrooms and purple flowers encircled the mound. He pointed and Biandina saw it as well.

    ¡°Oh, no,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°What?¡± Dirt asked.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s a fairy ring,¡± she said.

    A voice whispered in Dirt¡¯s ear, so close he felt its lips. ¡°Come, sweetling, come and greet us. Gather delights and wonders. Fair friends and honey we offer, and gold and enjoyment. Come, come, come, dear youngest. Your friend Socks is here with us and bids you come.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± shouted Biandina. ¡°It¡¯s all lies!¡±

    ¡°You heard that whisper?¡± asked Dirt. The swirling air around him made him feel dizzy, like he was slipping into a daydream. He shook it off.

    ¡°I¡¯m hungry, and they have my horse,¡± said Antelmu. There was longing in his voice, and he didn¡¯t sound fully awake.

    ¡°It¡¯s a lie! They promised me that I could meet Prosperu again, and say I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°That seems cruel,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Biandina. ¡°It is. I should lie down.¡±

    Dirt looked at the other two and recognized what was happening. They¡¯d been lured here, drawn far closer than he intended. And now the other two were at risk of sleepwalking right into that fairy circle. That didn¡¯t seem desirable.

    He sent them both a stern mental shock to wake them up. A good hard one, enough it might be painful. The dreamy minds around him sensed some part of it and recoiled. Many of the illusions swirling around them vanished, leaving nothing but empty snow and dead yellow grass, interspersed with gravel and cracked paving stones.

    He reached for the closest dream mind and attacked it directly, sending the same waking shock. It fled and disappeared, and soon after, so did all the rest.

    Biandina and Antelmu stepped backward, suddenly eager to get away. Dirt nodded and said, ¡°Let¡¯s go. We found out what it was.¡±

    He gave one last glance at the gray mound and finally made out what it was--an enormous pile of ancient bones, gray and brittle from exposure.

 Volume IV - Chapter 5

    They were five hundred paces into the long walk back before Biandina broke the silence. She and Antelmu had been straining their eyes and ears in dread of more fairy tricks, and Dirt had been watching so carefully for minds that he kept stumbling on the rocky ground.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go faster. Maybe we can get back while they¡¯re leaving us alone,¡± she said.

    ¡°They¡¯re not close. I¡¯m watching,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°How do you know?¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°I just do,¡± said Dirt. He was sorely tempted right then to explain that he could see minds, but hesitated. It wasn¡¯t the time. The children were afraid, and they might transfer that fear on to him, and stop being his friends. ¡°But I still think hurrying is a good idea.¡±

    ¡°All right. Let¡¯s pick it up,¡± she said, and started walking as fast as she could. It turned out a human could walk pretty fast, if she really tried. Long quick paces and she was moving almost at a run.

    Dirt¡¯s legs were too short to do anything but jog at that pace, so he did. Antelmu struggled to walk that fast for a bit, but couldn¡¯t either. He broke into a jog and ran ahead, and Dirt followed. That left Biandina running to keep up, and the last two thousand paces were crossed before the first star appeared.

    The tower stood empty and silent, retreating into twilight shadows. It looked colder inside than out, and the darkness the tower¡¯s doorway held was nothing the two children wanted to step into. ¡°Can you make a light?¡± Antelmu asked.

    ¡°Sure. Let me do the big ones first, and then I can make some little ones where we need them,¡± said Dirt. He stepped up to the enchantment on the closest wall and filled it with mana. A bright light appeared overhead and made the ground shine fifty paces out.

    He circled the tower to fill the other three, and in they went. With the lights shining in from outside, the tower did feel safer. The light would keep the shadows at bay. Dirt created a small light to follow them and asked, ¡°Do we need to do anything with the meat or hide from that deer?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s getting late. Maybe too late. We should have started the meat cooking hours ago, and if we don¡¯t flesh that hide it¡¯s going to rot,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Nothing says we have to go to bed already,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°It¡¯s too early anyway. Let¡¯s just do it now.¡±

    ¡°Fine with me. Dirt, can you give him your knife, and he¡¯ll show you how to flesh a hide?¡± said Biandina. ¡°I¡¯m going to run up and get more coal. I only brought down one piece.¡±

    ¡°You can just bring down the whole bag,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°That¡¯s the plan,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Okay. Hurry back,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. There¡¯s nothing in here with us, and I can see just fine with those lights outside,¡± she said, forcing herself to sound casual. She almost succeeded.

    An understanding passed between the siblings when their eyes met. They both nodded, and she stepped through the doorway. The moment she was out of sight, they heard her take a deep breath and start sprinting with all her might. Antelmu gave Dirt a little grin, but it was a scared one.

    Dirt kept an eye on her mind so he¡¯d know right away if she ran into trouble. She seemed fine so far. Just scared. It was dark up there and not as much light got in as she was hoping.

    ¡°So how do you flesh a hide?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Fleshing the hide means you get all the flesh off and just leave the hide. We¡¯re going to try turning into leather. Might as well, right? Can I have your knife?¡±

    Dirt handed it over and squatted down to watch. They spread the deer skin out tight, fur side down, and then Antelmu had Dirt move around to kneel on one end and help keep it in place.

    Antelmu looked around conspiratorially to make sure Biandina was truly gone, then whispered, ¡°Can you really tell if they¡¯re close?¡±

    Dirt nodded the affirmative and whispered, ¡°They¡¯re not close at all right now.¡±

    Antelmu glanced out the window and watched until he was satisfied nothing was moving out there. Finally he said, ¡°It¡¯s easier if you start at the head. We¡¯re gonna cut the tail off later, but it¡¯s good now, because it shows us which end that is.¡± Antelmu started scraping, lightly at first and then a bit harder. ¡°I keep forgetting how sharp this blade is. I almost don¡¯t need the stand to put it on. Usually you really have to push, but¡­¡±

    Sure enough, with each stroke of the blade, flesh was removed to expose the pale, clean surface of the hide itself. Antelmu leaned in closer and gave it his full concentration. ¡°I have to be really careful. This is almost too sharp.¡±

    ¡°Where do your people get metal, if you don¡¯t have much wood?¡±

    ¡°Iron and copper are easy to find. Iron is harder to work with, though. Can you be quiet while I work on this?¡± said Antelmu.

    Dirt leaned back slightly to give the older boy a few more inches of clearance and watched intently. It seemed like a simple process, but there was no mistaking Antelmu¡¯s skill. He worked with a deft hand, each movement graceful and deliberate.

    ¡°I¡¯m used to needing more pressure,¡± said Antelmu after working in silence for a bit. He sat up and pointed at what he was doing. ¡°If you don¡¯t push hard enough, it won¡¯t scrape everything that needs to come off. But if you push too hard, you¡¯ll cut into the hide, and that can turn into a big hole later. If you¡¯re just making strapping, that¡¯s fine, but usually strapping happens because you messed up, not because you did it on purpose.¡±

    Biandina thundered down the stairs and the hall, then slowed to a stop and walked normally through the doorway. She held her breath to keep from panting, but her face was flushed and it was obvious. ¡°You boys almost done?¡± she said, almost hiding how out-of-breath she was.

    ¡°Getting close. It¡¯s hard, though, so can you let me concentrate?¡±

    Biandina nodded and leaned against the wall nonchalantly, as if she wasn¡¯t doing it to rest after a terrifying dash through a scary, empty building. Antelmu kept working and it only took a moment longer before he sat back and traced his fingers across the clean hide. ¡°Do you see anywhere I missed?¡± he said.

    ¡°Here on the legs, it¡¯s lots thicker down by the feet,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I¡¯m gonna cut the ends off anyway. I only want the good hide. Here, see this? All these dangly bits around the edges? Watch, you do it like this.¡± Antelmu slid the knife around the edge of the hide and trimmed it into a nice, clean curve. He trimmed the legs up a bit, then tossed aside everything he¡¯d shaved. ¡°Sometimes if you leave those dangly parts there, they either look bad, or they can get caught and snag and weaken the leather before it¡¯s done. Some people trim it a little less than this, but I like it to look smooth on the edge.¡±

    Biandina pulled herself away from the wall and stepped over. ¡°Nice work. Boys, listen for a moment. The reason Socks¡¯s family said to stay in this tower is because the fairies can¡¯t get in. They might try to lead us away, but if we stay here, there¡¯s nothing they can do. Socks will come back before long, and all we have to do is hold out until then. So I need you to¡­¡± She trailed off, swallowing a comment she¡¯d been planning on and changed her mind about. Instead she finished with, ¡°I think we¡¯ll have to cook the meat instead of drying it. We¡¯re missing most of what we need.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I thought about that,¡± said Antelmu. He gave a hesitant look out the window. The darkness was growing deep out there. ¡°Do we need to get some stones to make a fire ring?¡±

    ¡°I can take care of that. How many do you want?¡± said Dirt.

    Biandina and Antelmu looked at each other. ¡°We can go together,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°No, silly, I can just pick them up from here,¡± said Dirt. He stood and went to the window and leaned out to get a good view. He found several decent stones nearby and lifted them one-by-one with his mind and set them in the middle of the room.

    Once there were enough to make a ring, Biandina laid four coal cylinders inside and packed them with small branches and fluff. Then she looked expectantly at Dirt and said, ¡°Would you mind?¡±

    Dirt snapped his fingers to summon a light, then turned it into a flaming ember and drifted it down to start the fire. Her packing material had been too thin, requiring him to keep the ember there for several minutes until the coals got hot, but once they did, the fire stayed hot.

    The room got smoky, but if they sat on the floor, it wasn¡¯t so bad. The top of the window was only a foot below the ceiling, and that let most of the smoke out. They set strips of meat along the stones as close to the embers as they could get them and sat to watch them cook.

    Once the smell of roasting meat filled the room, Dirt found himself phenomenally hungry, as did the others. Antelmu pulled his strip off and flipped it over before the outside had gone past pale gray and Biandina gave him a disapproving look, but said nothing. After about a count of fifteen, she did the same with hers, and Dirt¡¯s.

    Shortly after that, Antelmu moved to pull his off and eat it mostly-raw, but Biandina said, ¡°Wait until they¡¯re all done.¡±

    ¡°Why? You can eat yours when you want. I¡¯m gonna eat mine when I want,¡± said the boy.

    ¡°Just do,¡± she said.

    Antelmu sighed loudly, but left it on the fire.

    Not much later, Biandina was satisfied and pulled a small leather pouch from inside the fur hem of her shirt. ¡°I have a little salt I¡¯ve been saving. I think tonight¡¯s a good night for it, don¡¯t you?¡±

    That brightened the boy¡¯s face considerably and he held his strip of meat by the ends and lifted it over toward Biandina. She applied a reasonable sprinkle of salt along its length and then did the same for Dirt¡¯s and her own. Antelmu rubbed the salt into the meat and then licked his finger, and Dirt did the same.

    The strip of deer was delicious¡ªmuch better than raw, even ignoring how everything tasted better when he was hungry. Salt and cooking were two things where humans had the advantage over wolves. They threw on more strips to cook and by the end, Antelmu had eaten five, and Dirt and Biandina each three.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    After that, Dirt brought in scoops of snow with his mind and they packed the meat, the fat, and the brain to preserve everything. They rolled up the hide, tossed the rest of the deer skeleton out the window, and then that was it. There was nothing left to do.

    Biandina and Antelmu glanced out the window for the nine hundredth time, and as always, saw only the portion of the landscape illuminated by the enchantment¡¯s light. ¡°I¡¯m scared to sleep tonight. I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m going to have nightmares,¡± admitted Antelmu, smiling, as if admitting something humorous.

    It wasn¡¯t just him, either. Dirt peeked at Biandina¡¯s mind and found that she was even more scared than her brother, because she was worried about him as well as herself.

    A mind came into view, faint and distant. Dreamlike, but moving with steady purpose. Whatever counted for vision beheld the tower and the lights, but the architecture and colors shifted. It felt eager. No malice, just eagerness. It knew Dirt was there. It knew Dirt was watching. There was a brief flash of glee, and then its mind was wiped clean, becoming pure light. It was hiding its thoughts.

    This was not something the other humans could handle. It was Dirt¡¯s turn to be in charge for a while. He said, ¡°All of us are pretty tired. I bet we fall asleep before we realize it.¡±

    ¡°I hope so, but I doubt it,¡± said Antelmu.

    Dirt gave them a mental push and put them to sleep, then caught them as they slumped to the ground. He filled his body with mana and laid Biandina on her back, then put Antelmu on his back on top of her. Then he lifted them both, with moderate difficulty. Mana might make him strong, but it didn¡¯t eliminate leverage, and they were large and awkward things to be carrying around.

    Even so, he managed, trudging up the stairs one by one, watching that blank mind to see if it was growing and getting closer. It didn¡¯t seem to be. Dirt suspected it was waiting outside the light and watching for an opportunity. He carried the sleeping children up all six flights of stairs, then down to the end of the hall and into the room they¡¯d chosen. The water basin still had plenty for drinking, and Biandina had laid out the blankets in preparation for the night. With everything so nicely arranged, the room looked rather welcoming. He¡¯d have to mention it in the morning.

    Dirt gently laid them down, separated them, and nestled them in together. He tucked the blankets around them, leaving room for himself next to Biandina.

    Now, to go chase off that fairy, or whatever it was. Just the one, strangely. He took a peek out the window before he went down and saw nothing unusual. No black stuff swarming the ground and surrounding the tower. If that was returning, it wasn¡¯t here yet.

    On his way back down, Dirt reinforced his will, focusing on staying awake and not dreaming a little bit. Discipline and sincerity, and he would not budge a hair¡¯s width. Nothing was going to be tricking him again tonight.

    On the ground floor, he leaned out the windows to check all four of his light enchantments and found them still nearly full. He went to the butchery room and retrieved his knife, then went to stand in the doorway and listen for any sound encroaching through the silence.

    And silent it was. No crickets this time of year. No chirping frogs or late birds. A gentle wind stirred through the windows, but it only blew in short whispers with long pauses in between. He went to the front door of the tower and sat cross legged, just inside the threshold. That mind was still there and still hiding all its thoughts. If only Socks were here, they could meld their minds and locate it.

    Dirt swallowed away the dread, but it came right back every time. Antelmu and Biandina¡¯s minds were well within his range, and he took comfort from knowing they were both still sleeping, so far dreamlessly. Nothing had disturbed them. But down here, there was no one protecting him, and he had no idea what to expect. Or when.

    The crunching of footsteps in snowy gravel shook him from his thoughts. A pale figure emerged, the white of its clothing reflecting the light of his enchantment so brightly that Dirt thought it might be glowing on its own. A man approached, a curiously short one, human in appearance but about as tall as Dirt. A human cut down to two-thirds normal size. He wore a stately toga cut in senatorial style and carried it perfectly. Nowhere did the cloth touch the ground. The golden-ribboned sandals on his feet moved in a confident rhythm. A victor¡¯s crown of laurels around his head held curls of dark hair, and at first no color was visible.

    But as more of the man came into the light, he seemed less human. His hair was a dark purplish color that gleamed in flashing streaks in the magical light, and his skin had a blue tone paler than the sky. The toga was white as Dirt¡¯s pure light, white as the brightest cloud. The man smiled as he approached, warmly condescending.

    He stopped four paces from the doorway. ¡°Greetings, old man. It has been a long time!¡± he said, his voice high-pitched but still that of an adult man. Dirt realized he was speaking Dirt¡¯s language, the Sunset Empire¡¯s tongue.

    Dirt panicked, trying to remember how Father¡¯s list of destinations was arranged. Somewhere there was something for Dirt, but that wasn¡¯t here, was it? No, it couldn¡¯t be. That had to be farther. He wished he¡¯d paid more attention to Socks¡¯s mental map.

    ¡°Have I startled you? Surely not. Rise, you grumpy old curmudgeon, and greet me!¡±

    Dirt leaned back on his hands, not ready to stand just yet, lest he suddenly find himself walking against his will. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day. I don¡¯t remember you. Have we met?¡± he asked.

    The man smiled with the warmest patrician air. His eyes were a deep lavender with no whites, all one color, and Dirt thought his teeth looked awfully sharp.

    ¡°I cannot blame you for forgetting me, after what happened. But of course you know me. Do you deny it?¡± asked the man, tilting his head slightly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember much, and I don¡¯t remember you. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Do you remember your name, at least?¡±

    Dirt pondered that for a moment. ¡°Do you?¡±

    ¡°Do I remember my own name, or yours?¡±

    ¡°My name. Do you know who I am?¡±

    ¡°You are the void walker, the bane of gods and bringer of ruin. The Shatterer. You are the sufferer, the Returned, a friend of wolves and the Son of the Forest. The Great Wizard, the Renowned Teacher. The Changed Man, the Druid, the Savior of Ogena and the Camayans,¡± said the man, reciting with an actor¡¯s emphasis and gravitas.

    ¡°That sounds right. But do you know my name?¡± Dirt asked. The strangeness of this encounter had him feeling more wary than friendly.

    A hint of dismay flashed across the small man¡¯s face. ¡°I would still hear you say it.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t actually know it, do you? How do you know all those other things, if not that? You know a lot about me, obviously. You¡¯re dressed like one of my people and speaking my language. You even have the right body language,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Of those who remember, not many will forgive what you have done. I will, and already have. Is that not enough to share with me something so simple as your name?¡± asked the man.

    ¡°Well, what¡¯s yours?¡±

    ¡°I am often called Incantatus,¡± said the man, giving a subtle gesture at himself to emphasize his greatness.

    ¡°You mean like ¡®enchanted¡¯ or ¡®charmer¡¯? Something like that? That¡¯s your name?¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I have given you mine. Will you not now tell me yours?¡±

    Dirt stood and took one step back. Incantatus took a step forward. Dirt stepped back, and again. The strange little man stopped at the doorway and went no farther. ¡°I see. So you really can¡¯t come in here.¡±

    The man smiled. ¡°You always were a clever one, you and your games and tricks. I never did overcome you. Your riddles. How about this. In recognition of our friendship, let us make a bargain. If you tell me your name, I will return a precious memory to you. The first of many, I hope.¡±

    Dirt froze involuntarily. Hopefully the man hadn¡¯t noticed how startling that had been. ¡°How can you do that? They¡¯re lost.¡±

    ¡°My friend, nothing can be lost to the dream.¡±

    ¡°They got sucked out by the void. They¡¯re burned up in the abyss,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Along with my time and everything else.¡±

    ¡°A thing being lost in the waking world does not mean it has vanished from all possibility. Test me. Give me your name, and see what I return to you. I never lie, nor do I short a bargain,¡± said the man. The pale blue of his skin pulsed a slightly different shade for an instant, then turned back again.

    ¡°Okay. Avitus,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Ah, of course. Avitus. How could I forget? That name fit you much better in your later years than your younger ones,¡± said the strange little man. He swirled his toga with a dramatic flourish and extended his hand, which now had a little honey cake, the kind with an almond. Dirt had forgotten those existed. ¡°Here is your memory.¡±

    Dirt stepped forward and reached only his fingertips past the border of the doorway, just far enough to snatch the treat from the man¡¯s hand. He gave it a smell and found it wildly nostalgic. The smell of his childhood, his real one.

    He popped it in his mouth and was a child again. Not the child Dirt. He was little Avitus, about Antelmu¡¯s age, and he¡¯d just returned from the home of his tutor. ¡°Father, Cnaeus has something to tell you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, does he? Why, what could it be, Cnaeus?¡± Avitus¡¯s father turned his gaze first to Avitus, dark eyes sparkling in his handsome brow.

    Avitus¡¯s guardian servant nodded politely to show deference and said, ¡°Your son has impressed another tutor. Lepidus wishes me to tell you that he offers his sincerest commendation at your son¡¯s outstanding performance and recommends him to the next higher course.¡±

    Father smiled and put a firm hand on Avitus¡¯s shoulder. He gave a hard squeeze, just enough to be slightly painful, as was his way, and said, ¡°You are made of all the best parts of me, my son. Well done. Now go tell your mother. She will want to¡ª¡±

    The memory ended there, leaving Dirt gasping at the swirling scents, the bold sunlight, the hand on his shoulder, everything. It was a true memory, he knew that for certain. There was now one moment of the life of Avitus that he had regained. Just one tiny, brief moment. Poor old Cnaeus, whatever had happened to him? If ever a boy loved his guardian servant, Avitus had. And his father! What a man he had been. Rich and educated, and well-mannered. Avitus knew how it had felt in that moment, and that told him as much as ten scrolls on the subject could have.

    ¡°That was rather short,¡± said Avitus. Dirt.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t give me your entire name, I¡¯m afraid. The bargain is complete, but it could have been so much more. Would you like to give me the rest, and see what happens?¡±

    Dirt looked at the odd man with a slightly changed perspective. He still recognized nothing about Incantatus, which made him wonder. If they had known each other, why not give him a memory that proved it?

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you give me all my memories back, just because? If it was me and Socks, either of us wouldn¡¯t even ask. We¡¯d just hand it all over, and be glad to have helped,¡± said Dirt. ¡°We weren¡¯t friends or even acquaintances at all, were we? Or are you my enemy?¡±

    The noble little man snorted, purple eyes flashing with amusement. ¡°How could I be an enemy to such a finite being? Certainly not. I wish to be your friend, Avitus. Or do you have too many of those around already? Here, in token of our friendship.¡±

    He drew his hand from the folds of his toga again and held a pile of the honey sweets. Dirt hesitated, but the man was insistent. ¡°I want nothing in return. This is a gift. I hope you will not be too disappointed when you learn they are not memories. Just normal sweets, from my world and lands.¡±

    Dirt ate one and got to taste it this time. He chewed once and it came apart, liquid honey dripping across his tongue and chewy dough holding the flavor. The almond on top was roasted, of all things, not raw. It was phenomenal. He ate another one, then another.

    ¡°They are all for you, gracious Avitus. You must not share them. They will vanish if you try. You may as well eat them now.¡±

    Dirt obliged and ate them a bit too quickly. He really should have savored them, eating them slowly and enjoying them to their fullest. But he couldn¡¯t help it. They made him feel like a little boy again. Well, he still was. But a different little boy.

    ¡°Let me know if you feel unwell in the slightest. Too many sweets can make you sick,¡± said the man.

    ¡°I feel fine. Why? You didn¡¯t poison these, did you?¡±

    ¡°Certainly not! Never. They were exactly what I said, and nothing more. Do you¡­ feel a pull?¡±

    ¡°Nope, nothing,¡± said Dirt. ¡°What did you do to them? It looks like I fell for something, so what was it?¡±

    ¡°Nothing of the sort. Simply let me know if you desire to eat more, and I can escort you safely to my realm and you may eat as much as you want. I brought no more with me,¡± said the little man.

    ¡°I¡¯m not following you anywhere until Socks or someone like him can explain to me what you are, so you may as well give up.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure, Avitus? You do not wish to follow me and see my grand halls? Gold and marble and fine wood, dyed cloth and heaps of delicate food. All manner of delights. Your friend Socks might even be there. All are welcome who wish to come,¡± said Incantatus. ¡°Surely, Avitus, you wish to come, do you not? Come, Avitus.¡±

    Dirt felt the tug, and it hit his mind and his dream body at the same time. A daydream edged in at the corners of his thoughts, showing bright fields and grand buildings, children playing and frolicking with unknown beasts. But he¡¯d been ready for this and snapped out of it quickly. ¡°If you try that again, I¡¯m going to try and hurt you,¡± he said.

    ¡°Avitus. Avitus. Avitus,¡± said the man. It was almost enough. Dirt felt the compulsion sink into his heart and grip it tightly. But even so, Dirt was disciplined and sincere and ready. He did not move.

    ¡°It truly is a shame you didn¡¯t give me your full name, Avitus. But the part I know will never let you escape me. If you ever choose, I will happily show my realm. You will be free to leave any time you wish,¡± said Incantatus. ¡°And after eating my food, you will choose to follow me someday.¡±

    Dirt braced his mind and was about to slam a jagged wedge of wakefulness into the strange man¡¯s unreadable mind, but Incantatus raised a hand with a gentle smile. ¡°No need for that. I was just about to leave. I and my kind will not return tonight. Out of mercy, I will return tomorrow. Sleep well, friend.¡±

    Incantatus turned and left, his white toga swishing dramatically. Dirt watched him until he vanished, then crept upstairs. The children slept safely, too deeply to dream just yet. They¡¯d rise into the dream soon enough. Dirt wished he had the mastery required to make them all share the same one. Oh well. He snuggled in next to Biandina and slept.

 Volume IV - Chapter 6

    ¡°Should we wake him up?¡± whispered Antelmu, waking Dirt up. He kept still and pretended like he was still asleep.

    ¡°Little ones need to sleep longer,¡± said Biandina. ¡°But I think I¡¯m stuck. He¡¯s not a tidy sleeper and now I can¡¯t move.¡±

    ¡°Gnaziu is like that. He wakes up sideways half the time. I just crawl out anyway and he stays asleep,¡± whispered Antelmu, slightly louder.

    ¡°Lavisa sleeps on her back like a corpse, but Lisea does that,¡± said Biandina. ¡°She keeps rolling up and pulling the blanket, too, and Eudossia wakes up and cries because her feelings are hurt that we¡¯d leave her cold.¡±

    Antelmu sounded like he was smiling. ¡°I remember that. Is that what she was crying about?¡±

    ¡°It kept happening, too,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you put her in the middle then?¡±

    ¡°Because then Lisea would be pulling the blankets off me,¡± said Biandina.

    Antlemu snickered. ¡°Remember that time when Oraziu¡ª¡±

    ¡°When Oraziu snuck out in the middle of the night and¡ª¡±

    ¡°And slept with the neighbors?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. How could I forget?¡± said Biandina, laughter in her voice.

    From the tone of the conversation, Dirt gathered that nothing horrible had happened during the night. He¡¯d had a good dream, too, one with Socks and the others that he was already beginning to forget. The pup had gathered the three of them to fly through fields of spring butterflies and wildflowers, which made Dirt suspect he didn¡¯t like the winter as much as he said. There had been no hint of the fae.

    Antelmu shuffled and moved around noisily, but Dirt didn¡¯t want to open his eyes just yet and see what he was doing. ¡°You know what that made me think of? I don¡¯t remember falling asleep last night. I think the last thing I remember, is Dirt saying we¡¯d fall asleep before we knew it. I remember thinking that was stupid, but he was right.¡±

    Biandina was quiet for a moment, then whispered back, ¡°Same. I think he carried us both up here after we fell asleep.¡±

    ¡°I never know what he¡¯s thinking. He¡¯s so odd. One moment he¡¯s a hopping little foal and the next he¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°The next he walks like he has thirty healthy grandchildren,¡± said Biandina. Dirt was gathering that they interrupted each other more often when they were getting along than when they were not, which he found curious.

    ¡°Yeah. Do you think he¡¯s ticklish?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°I think we¡¯ll have to find out,¡± said Biandina. ¡°Although, with his strength, we might be starting something we¡¯ll regret.¡±

    ¡°Why, are you ticklish?¡± asked Antelmu.

    Biandina snorted with a little tremor that might have woken Dirt up if he wasn¡¯t already awake. A hint of mischief crept into her voice as she said, ¡°Do you know what the only answer to that question is?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m about to throw up.¡±

    Antelmu had to think about it for a second, but then he snickered again. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have told me that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my job to teach you wisdom, little brother. And if you try tickling me, I¡¯ll tell Dirt you¡¯re ticklish. Good luck keeping away from his squirmy little fingers forever.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell him you¡¯re twice as ticklish,¡± said Antelmu.

    They lay in silence until Biandina¡¯s hand suddenly clamped on Dirt¡¯s arm and she shouted, ¡°Get him, now!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s awake! Get him!¡±

    Antelmu tossed the blankets aside and jumped over before Dirt could get away, no matter how he twisted. Biandina was almost twice his age, so it wasn¡¯t fair to begin with.

    Dirt was already laughing before Antelmu sat on his legs and snaked his fingers into Dirt¡¯s armpits, but it turned out Dirt was profoundly ticklish. He laughed so hard he got lightheaded. Antelmu was an expert, and merciless. Dirt couldn¡¯t so much as budge unless he inhaled mana, and he was worried if he did that, he might injure someone. Only when he started gasping for air did Biandina give her brother a nudge to end it.

    Antelmu was wary the rest of the morning, anticipating Dirt¡¯s revenge, but Dirt was patient. He was no lazy predator. No, he¡¯d learned from the best, and would wait until the right time to strike. A moment when his prey would never expect and couldn¡¯t get away.

    Dirt didn¡¯t tickle him while they revived the embers and got another coal burning to cook a little more meat for breakfast and warm up. Nor did he pounce when they went out again to poke through the ruins looking for anything interesting they¡¯d missed.

    They found a small tree, fallen and dead. Little more than a dry log, a trunk. That was treasure enough for the day, and Antelmu insisted on hefting it up to carry on his shoulders, alone.

    Just to be sure, Dirt waited until the boy had gone twenty steps before he struck. He darted up behind Antelmu and went for his armpits. Antelmu gave an unmanly squeak and tried not to laugh as he danced away, but Dirt was faster and both of Antelmu¡¯s arms were occupied holding the little log.

    He tried to drop it, but Dirt tipped the end back up with his mind and prevented him. That was the only cheating Dirt did¡ªkeeping the log in place with his mind. The rest was all physical prowess. Antelmu could only hold in his laughter for a few steps before he started laughing high and free like water falling over rocks, and no matter where he went, he couldn¡¯t quite get away.

    Dirt decided Antelmu had had enough when he tumbled face first into the snow, unable to get his arms free to stop his fall. That would teach him to ambush Dirt. The older boy was cunning, though, and only acted like he was giving up until the moment he got the log off his shoulders.

    All in all, Antelmu got the better of him throughout the day. Dirt was quick, but Antelmu had a clear size advantage and a lot more experience. He knew better how joints moved and how to wrestle an opponent to trap them, and Dirt had never needed to learn.

    The day was easy and passed quickly, full of games and jokes. Not just tickling, either. Stuffing little handfuls of snow down each other¡¯s backs. Biandina, surprisingly, was the best at that, in part because she was tallest. She kept hiding the snow in her hood or the fur hem of her clothes and getting the boys when they looked down and created a gap at the neck.

    The only real work they had to do that day was stuff the deer hide into water and let it sit. It would probably take too long to finish soaking and they¡¯d have to leave it behind, but there was no way to tell for now, and no reason not to get it started. Dirt grew a stone basin and they filled it with water, which he had to periodically re-heat with a magic ember.

    Despite everyone¡¯s good spirits, Biandina and Antelmu kept looking out the windows, or back over their shoulders, or up at the exterior walls, and so on. Neither of them said anything about it, but it was clear they wouldn¡¯t forget the fae until they left the tower behind forever. Dirt checked periodically for minds, but found nothing, nor did he expect them. Not until nightfall.

    Late in the afternoon, while the three of them were sitting around a fire entirely of wood, which Dirt had grown into a respectable supply, Socks announced, -Hello, Dirt. I am coming tomorrow. My sister wants to meet you. Tell Biandina and Antelmu not to run away when they see her.-

    Dirt stood up and said, aloud, ¡°Did you learn how to find my mind from far away?¡±

    The other two gave him startled looks, but Biandina figured it out and whispered, ¡°Socks.¡± Antelmu nodded and went back to poking the burning logs with a stick to see the embers flake off one by one.

    -No, the reason I can¡¯t is because I am too young. But I am a little better at speaking than before. I am only talking to you even though they are right there,- said Socks. He sounded proud of himself, and it was probably justified. The pup could only see this far with ghost sight, but targeting a thought without directing it at a mind sounded prohibitively difficult, and Dirt would never get the chance to try. He didn¡¯t have ghost sight. -Goodbye for now, little Dirt.-

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Dirt waved goodbye and sat back down. ¡°Socks said he¡¯s coming back tomorrow and bringing his big sister. Socks says not to be scared at how big she is. And don¡¯t worry about trying to act like a humble wolf. You don¡¯t have to lay on your back to show your stomach, or try to lick her lips. Nothing like that. Just bow and act like a humble and polite human. They know the difference.¡±

    ¡°How big is she?¡± asked Biandina, hiding her nervousness.

    He picked up a spare log from the pile and spoke the magic to start reshaping it. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Older wolves can get really huge. But Sock said a little while ago that he¡¯s about two-thirds of his adult size. I guess it depends on how long ago they grew up.¡±

    ¡°How huge do older ones get?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°Socks¡¯s Father is probably a little taller than this tower. Same as Mother,¡± said Dirt. He guided the length of wood into a human shape, then decided to make it look like a Knight from Ogena, with armor.

    ¡°Are they dangerous?¡± asked Biandina.

    Dirt chuckled. ¡°More dangerous than you can imagine. I get scared just thinking about them, because my body remembers what it saw, even though I know in my mind they won¡¯t hurt me unless I do something to Socks. They¡¯re a thousand times more terrifying than the Eye. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything alive in the world that could possibly be Father¡¯s match, except maybe Mother, but he¡¯s older and a little bigger. If you see Mother or Father, your only hope is that they don¡¯t care enough to notice you. Or that they¡¯re feeling friendly.¡±

    The Devourer might be Father¡¯s match, but only because he was dead, and how do you kill a spirit? You don¡¯t, apparently, or Father would have a long time ago. But Dirt wasn¡¯t sure if he was at liberty to mention the Devourer to anyone else, so he didn¡¯t. Socks could tell them if he wanted to.

    ¡°Are they ever feeling friendly?¡± asked Biandina.

    ¡°Oh, sure. They¡¯re even kind sometimes. Merciful. They¡¯ve each saved my life. Father did twice. Once he told me how to find my way back to the forest so I wouldn¡¯t starve, and once he scared off¡­ I¡¯m not really sure what it was, but it was dangerous. And Mother healed my arms after the¡­ after they got broken,¡± said Dirt. He tried to remember if he¡¯d told them about Home hugging him or not. It might be a story better left untold, or they¡¯d both be scared of visiting the forest.

    ¡°Well, that doesn¡¯t sound so bad,¡± said Biandina, forcing a bit of optimism.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t get the wrong idea. It would take less than a flick of a finger for them to kill you. A mere thought is all it would take. We¡¯re all only alive because they don¡¯t care enough to bother getting rid of us. And I happen to be useful to Socks. They¡¯re strict, and they expect perfect obedience. Never give them anything less. In fact, that¡¯s probably good advice for dealing with any of Socks¡¯ family. But especially them.¡±

    Antelmu and Biandina sat quietly and watched Dirt whispering to the toy soldier to adjust its shape with magic. He realized he didn¡¯t have a very good idea how all the armor pieces fit together, but it didn¡¯t really matter. It was just something to do. It would be good enough to show them what a knight looked like. Maybe he should do a horse next, one with armor. Antelmu would probably like that.

    Dirt said, ¡°It almost feels sacrilegious to say this, since they¡¯re so far above me. But I really do appreciate Mother and Father. I¡¯m fond of them both. I respect them. And I think, if I dare admit it, I¡¯m happy to see them. And I trust them, so much that if they decided to kill me, I wouldn¡¯t even mind. It¡¯d be for Socks¡¯ benefit if it happened and I¡¯m okay with that. Not that I¡¯m planning on it. I want to grow old again. But if it did.¡± He bent the wooden knight¡¯s arm to raise it, then gave him a sword.

    ¡°How can you be okay with just getting killed like that, though?¡± said Antelmu, uneasy. He seemed repulsed by the very idea.

    Dirt set the toy down and looked at him, brows furrowed, while he thought how to put it.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s a good question. I¡¯m not upset. I just love Socks that much. I wouldn¡¯t want to stay alive, knowing that dying could have helped him reach his full potential,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I couldn¡¯t bear it.¡±

    ¡°That seems a little obsessive, Dirt,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Is it? Do you think so? Don¡¯t you feel that way about your tribe? Something bigger than you, that¡¯s more important? Your family, maybe?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t phrase it like that,¡± said Biandina. ¡°But I would risk everything for them, since you ask. And I did. Look where it got me.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you regret how it turned out, and wouldn¡¯t do it twice if you had the chance to go back. But I bet you don¡¯t regret being the kind of person willing to do it in the first place,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I¡¯m willing, too,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°Of course. Here you are, proving it by sitting there,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I love Socks in part because he¡¯s my best and closest friend, and it¡¯s impossible not to love someone like that. But I also cherish what he can become. It¡¯s astounding and magnificent and worth protecting.¡±

    Dirt picked up a second length of wood and started shaping it. Once it got roughly horse-shaped, it didn¡¯t look right, so he decided to make a gryphon instead. A gryphon knight.

    ¡°I guess,¡± he admitted with a droll little grin, ¡°that might be him rubbing off on me. That¡¯s how he thinks about it. He loves being a wolf.¡±

    ¡°Do you love being a human?¡± asked Biandina.

    Dirt gave her a gentle smile and said, ¡°I do, and do you know why? Because I saw the Sunset Empire. I know what we can become, too.¡± They wouldn¡¯t know what he meant, but it still felt good to give such an honest answer.

    ¡°Ah, Avitus, you always were a noble spirit,¡± said Incantatus, elbows resting on the windowsill as he peered inside. ¡°A true statesman.¡±

    Antelmu and Biandina both jumped, startled, and screamed when they saw the fairy¡¯s coloring. They scrambled to find weapons. Antelmu grabbed a log, and Biandina found a rock.

    Incantatus looked less human in the daylight than he had at night. His violet hair sparkled and shimmered in the sunlight like the surface of a pond, and the pale blueness of his skin seemed to glow with a light of its own. He wore the same golden headband and senatorial toga as the night before.

    ¡°And who are your friends? May I have your names?¡± he asked, turning his violet eyes to the other children.

    ¡°Don¡¯t! Don¡¯t say it!¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Why not?¡± whispered Antelmu, holding the log in both hands. He was acting ready to strike but it looked ridiculous.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! I just remember that!¡± whispered Biandina harshly.

    ¡°Oh, come now, friends of my friend. How can I call you if I don¡¯t know your names?¡± he said. His high-pitched masculine voice was smooth as honey. ¡°You have no need to fear me. I am not your enemy. Nor am I an enemy to Avitus, despite his wariness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure there are things you¡¯re not telling me, despite claiming to be a friend,¡± said Dirt. Incantatus¡¯ mind was as immaculate as a pool of clear water, but Dirt probed it with his mental fingers anyway, searching for anything the strange little man didn¡¯t intend to give away.

    ¡°I have an answer for every question you ask, and always will. But surely, you feel the pull already, do you not? You hunger and cannot be filled,¡± said Incantatus.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I feel normal. You¡¯re not even trying to put me to sleep, so what am I supposed to feel different about?¡±

    Incantatus scowled and Dirt caught a hint of dismay floating across his mind. Dismay and confusion. The fairy said, ¡°You always were a stubborn one, Avitus. Stubborn and prideful. And not without reason, after so many accomplishments. Do you remember the blessing you gave the Emperor¡¯s own domicile? They praised you from one end of the empire to the other for that. But this is not a time for stubbornness and pride, my friend. Do not try to fight it. Surely you feel the call.¡±

    ¡°I really don¡¯t. And stop acting like you know me. We¡¯ve only met once.¡± Dirt knew someday he¡¯d have to explain who he was, but he¡¯d really prefer for them not to put it together on their own as a result of this conversation. They likely would, though, if they remembered the story he¡¯d told their family before leaving.

    ¡°I do not know you? Is that what you think? If so, you do not understand me, and do not know what I am. I know you better than you know the inside of your eyelids. Come, Avitus. Come with me. Hasten, before the sun sets,¡± said Incantatus, his violet eyes piercing and insistent.

    Dirt was catching more and more of the little man¡¯s mind, but found no answers. It felt like the man was asleep, still dreaming, but aware. But his desire for Dirt to join him seemed free of ill intent. No concealed trickery that Dirt could find, just genuine concern.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± blurted out Biandina. She raised her rock threateningly. ¡°Tell me!¡±

    Incantatus turned his gaze to her again and the sharpness faded from his features. ¡°Dear girl, surely you don¡¯t mean to hit me with that. Put it down. I have done nothing to warrant threats and violence.¡± He smiled warmly at her and showed his empty palms. ¡°See?¡±

    She squinted and looked over his shoulder, as if seeing something that wasn¡¯t there. The rock lowered a few inches.

    The mind of Incantatus was no longer alone. More had come, sneaking and quiet. They were gathering, hiding their thoughts. But all together, they gave off an impression that reminded Dirt of a youth about to win a prize in a market game. They felt they were close.

    Dirt considered sending mental spikes of wakefulness and driving them off, but each time Incantatus shifted his focus to someone else, the shield he placed over his thoughts dipped slightly. There might still be more to learn.

    ¡°Why not come take a little peek, just enough to see what I¡¯m offering? You can leave any time you wish. You don¡¯t even have to come all the way in,¡± said Incantatus. ¡°You might even find Prosperu in there waiting for you.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s dead,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Indeed, he is,¡± said Incantatus. ¡°And where do the dead go? Can you say for sure he hasn¡¯t joined us?¡±

    ¡°Liar,¡± said Antelmu, venom in his voice. He threw the log right through the window, and Incantatus leaned slightly to let it pass.

    ¡°Young man, I never lie. I cannot lie. It is impossible for me,¡± said Incantatus. He was withholding something, though. Dirt could feel it.

    ¡°Nor can you ever tell the truth,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Ah, wonderful! You begin to remember,¡± said Incantatus.

    ¡°Nope, lucky guess,¡± said Dirt. ¡°You live in the dream, don¡¯t you? Like the elementals live in the world of magic?¡±

    ¡°And how do I answer that, if I can neither lie nor speak truth?¡± said Incantatus, laughing. ¡°But I will ask again, Avitus. Do you not feel thin? Do you truly not feel the pull?¡±

    ¡°I truly have no idea what you mean,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I don¡¯t even have to pee.¡±

    ¡°Then regretfully, you may have lost your chance. I wished for you to come as a guest. Are you certain you will not follow me and see my realm?¡±

    ¡°Not right now,¡± said Dirt.

    Someone threw Antelmu¡¯s log back inside, aiming right for the boy¡¯s head. He only barely dodged it, but when it hit the wall, it exploded into a puff of smoke. The things hiding outside laughed and tittered. After that, their mind-lights quickly began to fade. They were retreating.

    Incantatus said, ¡°Then I shall come again at midnight when the half-moon rises and you are on the verge of death. At that time, I shall bear for you a chain.¡±

 Volume IV - Chapter 7

    After Incantatus had turned and vanished in the dimming twilight, Dirt turned back to the stunned, terrified children and sighed. ¡°I try to get along with everyone I meet, because I¡¯m just a tiny little human. But something about him makes me not trust him.¡±

    Biandina gave a snort, which was probably meant to sound like a chuckle, but there was no mirth in her eyes. ¡°Obviously,¡± she said.

    ¡°My plan is to be asleep when he comes back, since he can¡¯t come in anyway. You know what I miss right now? My hot bath. I could use a good soak,¡± said Dirt, kicking a little rock he spotted on the floor.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± asked Antelmu. ¡°Oh, washing with hot water? Should we heat some up?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s¡­ I guess you don¡¯t have a word for it,¡± said Dirt, realizing what he was saying. In their language, the words he was using just meant ¡®hot wash¡¯. So he explained, ¡°In my language it¡¯s caldarium. It¡¯s a big basin or pool of water that you get in, and it¡¯s all hot water. We had a lot of words for different kinds of baths and places to put them in. It feels really nice.¡±

    ¡°I thought you were raised by trees and wolves and never saw a human until recently,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s true, too. But my language came from somewhere, didn¡¯t it? I didn¡¯t know what all the words meant until we started finding things. For example, I know the word cat, and it¡¯s the same word in my language. But I don¡¯t know what a cat is. I knew a bath the moment I saw it, and not before. It¡¯s that way with a lot of things,¡± said Dirt.

    Here he was, annoyed at how evasive and slippery Incantatus was and how everything he said probably had two meanings, and Dirt was doing the same thing. Everything Dirt said was true, but in another sense, he was still lying to them.

    Dishonesty would hurt his magic. He knew that from somewhere deep inside, from when he was Avitus. How long did he dare keep this going? He didn¡¯t have to spill everything, but neither should he stay in situations where he would be tempted to lie.

    There was a moment of quiet after that, during which the children exhaled some of their fear. Antelmu stepped over and poked the hide in its water bath, letting out a little bubble that was hiding. Biandina watched Dirt out of the corner of her eye. She tried to make it look like she was watching out the window until Dirt stepped away from it.

    Dirt didn¡¯t need to see her thoughts to watch the wheels turn in her mind. She¡¯d been paying attention to what Incantatus had been saying, and the hints that Dirt had let slip. Antelmu caught on as well and stopped short of glaring at her, but he was on edge.

    Biandina started with, ¡°You must have had parents. Who birthed you?¡±

    ¡°Biandina!¡± hissed Antelmu. Dirt glanced over in surprise at the other boy defending him. ¡°Just leave him alone.¡±

    ¡°No, Antelmu, you don¡¯t get to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just leave it! If he doesn¡¯t want to say anything, he doesn¡¯t have to,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°Why do girls always pry so much?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not prying, I¡¯m just asking!¡± said Biandina. ¡°This is not prying. I just asked a simple question. I¡¯m not saying he¡¯s hiding anything.¡±

    ¡°When we first saw him, he was naked. Where would he be hiding it?¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°He had clothes when I met him,¡± said Biandina. ¡°They got ruined, but that¡¯s not the point. The point is, he might be keeping secrets from us.¡±

    ¡°Of course he has secrets, but that¡¯s fine,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°People don¡¯t have to share absolutely everything.¡±

    Dirt cut in before the argument got worse. ¡°I don¡¯t remember my mother. Not her name, or the color of her hair, or a thing about her. You¡¯re both luckier than me in that regard. Is anybody else hungry? I¡¯m ready for some meat.¡±

    They were both hungry, it turned out, and after Biandina revived the coals and put a fresh one on, sitting around it and listening to the meat sizzle was just the thing to help them relax.

    Dirt stayed tense, though. He decided to tell them where he was really from, then changed his mind, then changed it back and forth a dozen times. The problem was that he hadn¡¯t told any humans yet. The trees and the wolves knew, but neither group cared. Humans, though, were another matter. If Dirt felt this much guilt over breaking the world, how much revulsion or hatred would a regular human feel? The two children were here to help him save mankind, so would they feel betrayed if they knew?

    He finally decided that he would give them complete and honest answers from now on, and if that required him to say he was Avitus, then so be it. No one talked until the meat was cooked and the first strips were half eaten. Biandina was the first to say anything, and she asked, ¡°Where did you see the hot bath?¡±

    Dirt replied, ¡°I¡¯ll tell you, but only if you can keep a secret from Socks. He doesn¡¯t know yet.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I can.¡±

    ¡°Just don¡¯t think about it when he¡¯s around. It¡¯ll be good practice,¡± said Dirt. He glanced out the window, which was silly, because that wouldn¡¯t tell him if Socks was watching right then. He motioned for Biandina and Antelmu to lean in close, and they gathered conspiratorially over the little fire. He cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered, ¡°It¡¯s in the forest. The dryads found a huge, buried city there and raised the whole thing out of the ground. The city was called Turicum, and it was made by my people. When we go there, I¡¯ll show you, and we¡¯ll sit in the baths.¡±

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t we telling Socks? Hasn¡¯t he seen it?¡± whispered Biandina.

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t been there since before they raised it, and I want it to be a surprise. The bath in my villa is big enough for him to get in and I can¡¯t wait.¡±

    ¡°Are there other people there now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the last of my people, unless you count all our descendants. But Marina might be there now. She was looking for a man to mate with, and she¡¯s going to raise her baby in the forest so the trees can watch it grow up. I¡¯m excited for her. I hope she¡¯s there. How long do humans carry their young?¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Nine months,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°Wait, really? That long? Just for a little tiny baby?¡± said Dirt.

    Biandina forced a smile and said, ¡°How long did you think?¡±

    ¡°Socks said wolf pups are carried for sixty days before they¡¯re born, and they come out huge.¡±

    ¡°Horses take longer than humans. Horses can be as long as a year. But sheep are only five months. Everything is different,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°I never knew. I don¡¯t really know much about animals, do I? Except what they taste like,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe Socks was only carried for sixty days. His poor mother! He must have grown a lot since he was born,¡± said Biandina.

    Dirt smirked. ¡°If you saw his mother, you¡¯d understand. He had about forty siblings in the litter, too, and I bet she still had room for more.¡±

    ¡°Forty? At once? How does that even¡­¡± said Antelmu, bewildered.

    ¡°If you saw his father, you¡¯d understand,¡± said Dirt, with a smile that quickly grew mischievous.

    ¡°Oh, no,¡± said Biandina. ¡°Don¡¯t encourage him, Dirt. Please don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± said Antelmu. ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything. Yet.¡±

    ¡°No, but I know you. In fact, I bet you were about to tell the one about the sleeping giant and the man with the axe,¡± said Biandina. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± said Antelmu. But he gave Dirt a look with a particular glint in his eye, and Dirt was sure he¡¯d hear it as soon as Biandina was out of view.

    After dinner, Biandina used a rock to break up the coal and store away the part that hadn¡¯t started burning yet. The rest she covered in ashes, leaving a little hole for air so it¡¯d still be there in the morning. Then she leaned back casually and said, ¡°Well, shall we stay up to midnight tonight?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t have to. Like I said, he can¡¯t come in,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Dirt,¡± she said sternly. The room grew serious. ¡°I am not letting anyone put you in chains. You are under my protection until Socks comes back. We are staying up tonight, and if he appears, we¡¯re going to fight. Antelmu, do you want to wait upstairs in our room, or down here?¡±

    ¡°My bow is upstairs. I should have it with me,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°We¡¯ll go upstairs.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t saying we needed to stay up there,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. We¡¯ll stay upstairs. Dirt, can you close off the stairs behind us?¡±

    ¡°Sure, that¡¯s not a bad idea.¡± said Dirt. ¡°It¡¯ll be thin so you can just break through it if you need to.¡±

    Biandina nodded and led the boys up the stairs. The mood felt like Ogena, when the goblins were outside and everybody was getting ready for a war. Dirt watched their minds and both children were already plotting for combat. Antelmu was thinking about shooting his arrows out the window and how to adjust for such a low angle. Biandina was thinking how she could use her feet to free Dirt if someone grabbed him, and what sort of wooden weapon to ask him to make. She needed something, and it might be best to leave the knife with him.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Dirt was apprehensive, but not quite scared. There was no way the fairy creatures could get inside the tower, and his lights would keep the noisy black fog away. And even if they did get in somehow, Dirt would attack their minds, and win. But despite all that, what would it hurt to take precautions?

    He sealed the stairwell at the seventh floor, and they made their way down the dark hallway and into their room. Biandina really had done a nice job tidying it up and making it look welcoming. The blankets were spread and smoothed out, the packs were set evenly against the wall, and the random useful objects were set out in an orderly way.

    The three of them got a drink from the basin, which was still nearly full, but frigid. That made it taste better, but after two drinks he wanted to climb under the blankets. He summoned three warming embers and the room quickly got more bearable.

    Antelmu checked his bow and set it nearby, then laid his arrows next to it so they¡¯d be ready. He gave a long gaze out the window, then sat on the blankets. He pulled his knees up to his chest and said, ¡°So what are we going to do while we wait?¡±

    The wind started blowing. All three of them glanced out the window, but the last of the light was fading, leaving moonless darkness. The wind blew mildly at first and washed some of the heat from the room, but Dirt¡¯s embers were strong and they paid it no mind other than to sit there and worry.

    They sat in silence for a short while, all staring out the window. Dirt watched for minds, hoping the wind was an elemental, but there were none to be found. Just those of Biandina and Antelmu trying not to lose themselves in dread, but rather to wish it away by willpower.

    It was going to be a long night, and Dirt had already told most of his stories. He tried to remember what he¡¯d left out. The digger people under the mountain? He hadn¡¯t told them about those. Or the Devourer¡¯s storm, but that would just give them something else to worry about.

    ¡°Do you want to try doing magic?¡± he finally said.

    Biandina and Antelmu jerked upright in surprise and turned to face him.

    ¡°I can¡¯t teach you how to breathe mana in, but I can push some into you and show you a little about how to use it,¡± he said.

    ¡°And do what?¡± asked Biandina.

    ¡°Only the simplest things. Okay. When Socks and I first did this, it burned. It was painful and hard to use. But there¡¯s a trick¡ªyou have to relax and let it go where it wants. There¡¯s a part of you that mana belongs in, but I don¡¯t think I can put it there directly. So if it feels like something went wrong, don¡¯t worry. That¡¯s how it¡¯s supposed to feel.¡± He reached for Biandina¡¯s wrist, but she pulled it away.

    ¡°Wait, what¡¯s mana? And where in my body does it go?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Mana is raw magic, and it goes in your mana body. It¡¯s not a place in your body, it¡¯s one of the bodies you have. But that¡¯s complicated and I¡¯ll let the trees explain it. Here, take my hand,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Is it going to hurt?¡± she asked, moving her hand forward hesitantly.

    ¡°Probably, but not as bad as having your arm burned off or getting skewered by bird talons. Ready?¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°Do me first.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Because I need to see how much it hurts before you try it on her,¡± he replied. His voice was slightly shaky.

    ¡°That¡¯s a noble sentiment. Here, give me your hand,¡± said Dirt.

    Antelmu held his breath and stuck his hand forward. Dirt took hold of it and kept Biandina¡¯s in the other. Then he nudged a small amount of mana into both of them at the same time.

    The children didn¡¯t gasp or hiss, but they did squirm and grit their teeth, showing Dirt it had worked.

    ¡°It goes where you think about, so try not to focus on it. Just relax. Look out the¡ª¡± started Dirt, but in the distance he saw rows of little red lights that reminded him of eyes. They were too far to make out. ¡°Look at the wall and don¡¯t think about it hurting.¡±

    ¡°That really stings,¡± said Antelmu.

    Dirt said, ¡°Yep. And I can¡¯t get it back out for you. You¡¯ll have to wait until it seeps out on its own, or let it go where it¡¯s supposed to. Try thinking about horses.¡±

    Biandina relaxed and her face lit up. She pulled her hand away and looked at it. When she met Dirt¡¯s gaze, her eyes sparkled with wonder.

    ¡°That was fast. That¡¯s almost not fair. It took me forever,¡± said Dirt, feigning a scowl.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± asked Antelmu, still squirming.

    ¡°I just let it go where it wanted, like he said,¡± replied Biandina.

    All three of them jumped when a large owl flapped in and landed on the windowsill. Its expressionless face regarded them for a moment, until it hooted and flew away on silent wings.

    None of them said it must be the fae, but Dirt was sure they all thought it.

    ¡°So what can I do with mana?¡± said Biandina, a bit loudly.

    Dirt said, ¡°Lots of things, but human magic is too much to start on right now. So try¡­ um¡­ put it in your hand and hit the wall.¡±

    She did so gingerly at first, then harder, and harder still, until she was punching as hard as she could. Antelmu winced at the sound, and when Biandina hissed in pain and shook her hand because the mana was running out, he darted over to make sure she was okay. Her knuckles showed no sign of damage.

    ¡°How come you¡¯re so good at this?¡± he complained, once he was satisfied she was unharmed.

    ¡°Just lucky, I guess,¡± she said. ¡°Can you give me some more, Dirt?¡±

    ¡°Sure can. But not too much at once. I think I¡¯ll make you practice a bit more first,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Because the first time I figured out how to use it, I jumped really high and used it all up, and it was a long fall back down,¡± said Dirt, grinning. ¡°It was right outside Socks¡¯s den and Mother caught me, or I would have gone splat.¡±

    He gave Biandina a bit more the next time, but still not enough to hurt herself. She used it to jump high enough to touch her back on the ceiling, but fell awkwardly and bruised her knees and elbow when she landed.

    Antelmu had taken to pacing back and forth in the hall, stomping in a way that made even his footsteps sound frustrated. All at once he stopped, and ran back into the room. ¡°I did it!¡± he announced proudly. He punched the wall, only about half strength at first, then several more times as hard as he could. He laughed in amazement all the while, pleased that it didn¡¯t hurt.

    Dirt spotted motion in the blackness outside, a flutter of something pale that reminded him of cloth. He ignored it.

    They spent quite a while playing with mana, growing more proficient at absorbing it and using it in different parts of their bodies. They were too overjoyed to sleep and staying up was easy. It wouldn¡¯t just be Dirt and Socks enjoying a midday nap tomorrow.

    All the while, strange sights could be seen in the window, and sounds that could have been natural but felt out of place, like a raven¡¯s call. Dirt wasn¡¯t the only one who saw it¡ªhe caught the other two twitching at motion outside, or stopping mid sentence to listen to something. But neither of them said anything, and nothing happened inside the room.

    A three-quarters waxing moon came out, lighting up the whole landscape. They all went to the window and looked then, bracing themselves for some new horror. But there was nothing unusual¡ªjust moon shadows and silver light bathing the rocks and snow. The dark ground and bone pile sat silently in the distance, waiting.

    ¡°When the moon gets to about there, it¡¯ll be midnight,¡± said Biandina, pointed about a quarter up the sky. ¡°We need to make sure Antelmu and I are ready with mana when it comes.¡±

    Something enormous flew up past the window, inches away from their faces. It went too fast to even tell if it was feathers, cloth, or something else, but all three of them screamed and jumped back. They heard tittering and chuckling outside, but laughed at themselves and ignored it. They turned from the window and got back to practicing.

    Midnight came suddenly, with no warning. They only knew it when they noticed Incantatus sitting placidly in the window, his small, golden-sandaled feet dangling into the room.

    His robe was black now, and his hair red and orange like flame. His eyes had faded to a dull black that glimmered faintly, as if the shadows they contained were not uniform. In one hand, he carried a chain of rusty metal links, each link bearing nasty hooks.

    A dream washed over the room, a nightmare. A haunted feeling of unreality gripped them and only Dirt had the discipline to resist. He shook Biandina and Antelmu, then lifted a splash of water from the basin with his mind and tossed it into their faces. That woke them up, just in time. The floor of the room stabilized, no longer about to collapse. The wave of black insects retreated and vanished in the shadow.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you one chance to just leave us alone, and if not, I¡¯m going to hurt you,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you one chance to submit to me, before you wither and die,¡± said Incantatus. He held up the chain, which clinked and rustled loudly, to show a loop that Dirt supposed was for his neck. Once worn, the jagged hooks might never come out. ¡°Lower your head, Avitus. This shall be unto you a radiant periapt, and never more shall you hunger, for you shall be mine.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry, and I don¡¯t think I believe a single thing you say,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Surely you yearn against the emptiness,¡± said Incantatus, dismayed. Venom dripped from his lips, and he licked it away. ¡°You ate my food! Part of you is now the dream, and you must either come, or suffer the lack of it.¡±

    Dirt regarded the strange little man, noting his anger and frustration, but also his sincerity. He couldn¡¯t lie, after all, but what was the real truth? One truth he was certain off¡ªhe truly felt nothing like the man was trying to convince him of.

    ¡°I warned you,¡± said Dirt. He threw a mental attack straight into the small man¡¯s mind, full of distress and fear and most of all, wakefulness. Bright alertness, bright as the sun.

    Incantatus screamed and fell backward out the window. The chain slid into the room and vanished into smoke.

    Dirt ran to the window and saw Incantatus falling. He hit the ground like it was a huge pile of pillows, then rolled to his feet and stumbled slowly toward the bone pile.

    Well, he could move faster than that. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± said Dirt, and he dove out the window himself. He chased Incantatus and sent another mental jolt, which made the fairy scream in pain and clutch his temples.

    ¡°Torment me not!¡± shouted Incantatus, spinning to face Dirt with a face cracked and leaking yellow fluid that hissed and spat where it hit the ground.

    ¡°You better keep running,¡± said Dirt.

    The fae man¡¯s face tore in an expression of rage, and the discipline keeping his thoughts from Dirt¡¯s sight cracked open. Inside was a deeper rush of chaotic images than Dirt could fathom. The strange creature wasn¡¯t fully here, but neither was he absent. He was walking in a hundred variations of this place at once, and not all of them were unpleasant.

    In one, he led a sad-looking dream version of Dirt by a chain around his neck that dripped blood where the hooks bit in. In another, he laughed and threw out a table containing a rich feast of steaming meats and vegetables and all the honey anyone could wish for, and Biandina and Antelmu squealed in delight and dug in. In a third, the tower started creaking and falling over.

    But none of those were real, and with the fairy this close to reality, that mattered. They spun off and vanished, only to be replaced by something new. But never far, never far from here, and never truly free of the suffering Dirt had inflicted on him.

    ¡°Hey, Incantatus,¡± called Dirt.

    The fairy stopped and twisted his head around on his shoulders to look back at Dirt.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think about your real name. Whatever you do. Think of anything else but your real name. Don¡¯t think your real name!¡± This was the meanest trick Dirt ever used on Socks, but it worked every time.

    And it worked this time. Apkallu. An ancient name, more ancient than the Sunset Empire. It creaked and groaned with weight and import, leaning this way and that under its own bulk, and then it vanished. The fae closed off his mind again.

    ¡°Apkallu,¡± said Dirt out loud. ¡°Now we know each other¡¯s names. Perhaps next time we meet, you¡¯ll be nicer, and not try to trick me. We could still be friends.¡±

    ¡°Do not seek to bind me now, not while in this form. Have mercy, finite one.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll depend on whether you keep bothering us.¡±

    Apkallu turned and kept walking, speeding up faster than human legs could move, and all at once, the night was empty, just a night again. No strange minds lingered, no odd sounds on the air.

    Dirt, strangely, felt no relief. Nor, if he was honest with himself, had he felt much danger to be relieved from. All that was left was curiosity. As unpleasant as the interactions had been, broadly considered, Dirt hoped it was not the last. There were too many questions.

    The enchanted lights on the tower¡¯s exterior were running out of mana, so Dirt refilled them before he headed back up. He met Biandina and Antelmu near the bottom staircase, rushing at a reckless pace to come save him.

    -My sister is amused,- said Socks. The other two children perked up¡ªthey heard it too. -She said she has never seen a human chase off a dream-born before. Go to bed. We will be there late in the morning.-

 Volume IV - Chapter 8

    The three children watched from the top of the tower all morning until the wolves finally came into view. Biandina spotted them first¡ªa sleek black shadow followed by a smaller dark gray one, emerging from the horizon like they were crawling up out of the ground.

    With such an enormous expanse to cross, it was the first time Dirt had thought Socks looked slow. In fact, compared with the endless plain of white snow spotted with rocky grays and yellow grasses, he didn¡¯t look all that big, either. It took several long minutes for the wolves to reach the tower, even despite speeding up as they got closer.

    Once the two wolves arrived, Dirt jumped right out the window with a heartfelt cheer. Socks caught him and yanked him down to smother in licks. Dirt allowed it for a moment, but all of him was covered in clothing except his face, and he couldn¡¯t breathe through the big pup¡¯s tongue. Socks set him down and Dirt hugged him around the snout, scratched everywhere he could reach, and then ducked away with mana speed when Socks snapped his jaws to catch him.

    Then they played a bit of tag, heedless of the others. Dirt laughed all the while, darting faster than a bird between the wolf¡¯s legs or jumping out of the way like a grasshopper. Socks¡¯s playful snarls and growls rumbled against the wall of the square tower, always terrifying no matter how friendly Dirt¡¯s mind knew it was.

    Amused, Big Sister sat and watched from the side, ears perked up and fierce yellow eyes focused on the games. Once the initial excitement wore off, she said, HE LOOKS LIKE ALL THE OTHER HUMANS. HE IS NOT CUTER.

    Dirt felt himself plucked by a rough mental hand and pulled over to the giant black wolf. She was a third again Socks¡¯s size, or perhaps more, fuller and more muscular. Her winter coat was poofy and thick and she looked absolutely enormous. She could¡¯ve peered into the third or fourth story windows without rising off her front paws. Her fur was free of scars, a detail Dirt found interesting. Just like her Mother.

    She turned Dirt slowly in the air, and he remained calm and sent her a short mental poof of respect and submission¡ªsomething he would never have dared do with Mother or Father, but it seemed acceptable here. She pulled him closer to sniff a few times, then set him lightly on his feet.

    Big Sister turned toward Antelmu and Biandina, who were just then walking out the front doorway. Even without looking at their minds, he could see they were anxious and fearful, although they did their best to hide it.

    THOSE ARE YOUR STRAYS?

    -They want to help Dirt save all the humans,- said Socks.

    THEY DO NOT LOOK UP TO THE TASK.

    -It will take many. These are just two of the first.-

    ¡°I¡¯ll grow to be up to the task,¡± said Antelmu, in a very short moment of stalwart dignity. It lasted exactly until Big Sister fixed her fearsome yellow gaze upon him, at which point he involuntarily ducked a little and took one step back, which was perfectly understandable.

    Big Sister¡¯s tail gave a faint twitch of amusement, but that was all, and Dirt only spotted it because he had practice. He didn¡¯t dare look at her mind¡ªshe was too far above him to risk that¡ªbut it seemed she wasn¡¯t going to be testy and hostile.

    IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE HUMANS CAME NEAR THIS PLACE. HUNDREDS OF YEARS, said Big Sister, her mental voice loud in their minds even though its timbre lacked any hostility. She sounded rather relaxed, Dirt decided. She peered around like she was wondering what was going to happen next.

    Dirt jumped onto Socks¡¯s back and slid down to the part of his harness where the rake was kept. He pulled it out and checked it to make sure it was in good repair. It was. He fell the rest of the way to the ground, then stood holding it without looking directly at Big Sister.

    YOU MAY SPEAK TO ME DIRECTLY IF MY BROTHER PUP IS WITH YOU, she said.

    ¡°Thank you. Would you like me to rake your fur? I¡¯m sure Socks told you about that,¡± said Dirt.

    LET ME SEE THAT, said Big Sister. But before she took the rake from Dirt, her gaze flickered to Biandina, who had her hood down and her teeth clenched to remain calm. I AM BEING TOO LOUD, she said, quieting her mental voice to the level of Socks¡¯s. -You have my permission to complain if something I am doing is hurting you, if you are with my brother.-

    ¡°Thank you, Great One,¡± said Biandina. She closed her eyes, took a very deep breath, and exhaled slowly. When she opened her eyes again, the last of her fear drifted away on the wind. She smiled, remembering at the last second not to bare her teeth.

    -You will not cause me alarm if you smile with your teeth. I am familiar with humans. Now show me that rake,- she commanded.

    Dirt was rather surprised she hadn¡¯t seen it yet, but he stepped forward and held it out. Big Sister yanked it from his hand with her mind and looked it over carefully. Then, in the time it took to blink, Dirt felt a flash of mana too bright to measure and found three rakes. Not one. Big Sister had multiplied them instantly. Now that was a trick he wanted to learn.

    She gave one to each child, then settled down on all fours. She rested her head on the ground and flicked her ears impatiently. The three children got the message and got to work.

    Dirt said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about brushing too hard. Their fur is thick and it¡¯s hard to hurt them. Dig in and scratch a little if you can. It works better if you use short strokes.¡±

    He jumped onto Big Sister¡¯s back and moved forward until he could reach her ears. That seemed like a good spot to start, and it was. He could feel the enjoyment emanating directly off her fur as he dug in and did some decent scratching, then smoothed the spot over and moved on to the next.

    -I told you they are useful,- said Socks.

    -Humans lived on this spot for a millennium and not once did one of them try this,- replied Big Sister. -They are seldom useful.-

    Biandina started on the front shoulder and had trouble at first. Rakes were not easy to operate one-handed, it turned out, but she quickly figured out how to brace it with her neck or stomach or knee for extra leverage, and that worked rather well.

    Antelmu started nearby, working his way along Big Sister¡¯s ribcage. Even with her lying down and reaching as high as he could, the rake didn¡¯t quite get all the way up to her back. In frustration, he turned to Socks and said, ¡°Would you mind?¡±

    Socks was more than happy to oblige and lifted Antelmu with his mind, carrying him from spot to spot as needed. The boy worked so hard that he shed his coat, but he gave no sign of wanting to stop.

    The great wolf enjoyed herself immensely. She closed her eyes and looked so relaxed that Dirt wondered if she was falling asleep, but her ears still twitched now and then, upright and alert. It made him wonder how a wolf like Big Sister would have treated him without Socks¡¯s introduction first. Probably with complete apathy, as long as he didn¡¯t encroach into her territory or do something annoying. Despite how nervous her appearance and scent made the deeper animal parts of him, something like her was probably safer to encounter than a smaller creature, like an ornery bull.

    ¡°Will you tell me your name, Great One?¡± asked Biandina, her voice calm. Dirt was so surprised he had to look down at her. She seemed right at home, which made him wonder if it was him being silly. That wasn¡¯t Mother or Father, this was a much smaller wolf who¡¯d come out here to see the novelty. Still, better respectful than ripped in half with hardly a thought.

    -My name? I took one, a very long time ago. My brother made me promise not to be threatening unless you overstep yourselves, so I will not tell you what it is.- said Big Sister. She rolled to her side to expose her stomach for the rakes.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Biandina gently said, ¡°I still want to hear your name, if you¡¯re willing to tell us. If you¡¯d rather not, then just ignore me.¡±

    -Do not rake my nipples,- she instructed. Then she spoke in the way of wolves, an experiential image full of sights and sounds and smells, rich and complex and overwhelming. The story began when she was young, only a few dozen years old. She left Father¡¯s den for good and found a mate, afterwards finding this land and choosing to claim it for themselves. It was richer then, with thick forests and fewer storms, and the rivers ran deeper and straighter than they do now. Tornadoes seldom touched the earth and when they did, the grasses healed the scar in the space of a moon. Rocky hills and sweeping plains, wide caverns and caves in the earth, beast and birds great and small, it was a perfect place for cubs to explore and elders to hunt.

    It was, however, no virgin territory. Humans lived here in a kingdom much smaller than the Empire that had come before it. But a few humans didn¡¯t matter. Though they maintained the forests and herded great numbers of beasts across the plains, the gods protecting them were gone. This was human land no longer, and ripe for the taking.

    Her mate believed it would be a chore to kill them all. There were far too many, and it would take too much time. Humans were poor eating, and their corpses would heap upon the earth and molder for months. Let them take their belongings and depart instead, to save effort.

    Big Sister had no name then, only her scent and presence, which had always been enough.

    But the ruler of the humans had one. Hers was Maxima, and Regina, and all the other humans obeyed her. She had aspirations, this Maxima, and a touch of true madness. When the wolves tore open the front of the palace to order her to leave, she rose and commanded them to bow.

    Her blood painted the wall, and not a single creature in the palace escaped alive. The wolves broke the grand building to rubble and tore through the city like a conflagration, leaving nothing but mists of blood as they cleansed the earth of its inhabitants. They glutted themselves on bony, fleshless prey that day. The elderly collapsed on the streets and begged, the females and males hid with their brood, all to no avail. Only those who fled in reckless haste survived. The scents of fear and death rested on that place for a long time afterward.

    Of all the city, they spared but one life. Big Sister chose a young male whose scent reminded her of the Queen¡¯s. She told her mate, Let him tell all the others in every town and lonely hut that I am now Regina and Maxima, and I order them to gather all their goods and depart. Let the houses and streets be emptied, and we can bury the ruins at our leisure to make this place our own.

    Maxima¡¯s mate agreed, and they spoke to the human in his own tongue. He wept with gratitude that his life was spared, along with the remainder of his people. From that day, no tribe of men came closer than the border town. They built a large tower there to keep watch and begged for their lives and offered gifts whenever the great wolves appeared. Umbra Maxima, they called her, and Cruenta Regina, and Maxima Potentia. Her mate, they simply called Mors, for he needed no other name.

    Their names remained on mortal tongues even after the human language mutated away and the old meanings were lost. When the tower was at last left empty, their names ceased also to be heard, perhaps forever.

    The great wolf¡¯s story ended abruptly, and in the stunned moments afterward, Antelmu stumbled away and vomited, mind reeling with horror at the carnage he¡¯d witnessed. They had experienced it as though through the wolf¡¯s own eyes, tasting the blood, smelling the terror and excrement, showing no mercy or hesitation.

    Dirt looked nervously at the two children, unsure what would happen next, but Biandina surprised him. She took another deep breath to wash away the green in her face and the horror from her eyes, and simply said, ¡°Maxima. That is a lovely name.¡±

    -I warned you, tiny creatures,- said Maxima, nonchalantly.

    -Biandina was just asking for the word, though,- said Socks.

    -How can a name be just a word, pup? That is not a name. That is just a noise. A name must be who you are,- said Maxima.

    -Human names are usually just a noise,- said Socks. -Although sometimes they tell you who the sire was.-

    ¡°My name tells you a lot, if you know what it means,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Dirt just means dirt, doesn¡¯t it?¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Yes, but I¡¯m the only Dirt. And it¡¯s a good name for me. But my other name is Avitus Numitorius Urbanus, and if you know what that means, it tells you a whole bunch,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°What does it mean? I remember that fairy calling you Avitus, now that you mention it,¡± said Biandina.

    Antelmu stood up on shaky feet, still looking distressed and unwell. Maxima pressed her magic into the world again, and Dirt missed it because he wasn¡¯t watching. A globe of pure water appeared in front of the boy¡¯s face, and he nodded, leaned forward and drank. He washed his mouth with some and spit it out, then gulped down the rest and started looking a bit better.

    Dirt didn¡¯t answer during that pause while everyone watched, so Biandina asked again, ¡°What does Avitus mean?¡±

    ¡°It means ¡®grandfatherly¡¯ or ¡®elder¡¯ or ¡®ancient¡¯. But like the name Dirt, if you know that it means me, that tells you a whole lot,¡± said Dirt.

    -I was born after you and do not remember,- said Maxima. -I see Antelmu fretting about the hopelessness of the human situation. How can they survive, when something like me can destroy them so easily? Well, the first thing you can do to improve your chances, is keep raking. You stopped but I am not done.- A hint of amusement leaked into her voice and she wagged her tail expectantly.

    Socks let his tongue loll out, which made him look smug. He watched without comment as the three children went back to scratching and combing until they were done. Afterward he rose and stepped over to sniff the three of them. He gave Dirt three licks, and Antelmu one out of pity. Finally, he put all three rakes in that spot on his harness.

    Maxima said, -That was pleasant. I will remember it. Now it is time to show me what I came to see.-

    Biandina and Antelmu stepped a bit closer together and held still, unsure what was about to happen and doubting it would be pleasant.

    Dirt said, ¡°The mind meld?¡±

    -Show me.-

    Dirt nodded, and briefly explained to Biandina and Antelmu, ¡°Socks and I can merge our minds together and become one mind with two bodies. It doesn¡¯t look like much unless you can see like a wolf.¡±

    After that, he and Socks reached for each other and slid their thoughts together, sharing everything. ¨C¡°Look, Big Sister. Watch,¡±- said Socks and Dirt. They threw the boy into the air, and their focused minds summoned a cloud of sparks that went everywhere, including places that Socks couldn¡¯t have seen by himself. They let the sparks sizzle and burn, but didn¡¯t ignite them, choosing instead to let them fade.

    -¡°Nothing can sneak up on us.¡±-

    They sent the boy¡¯s body running around to Maxima¡¯s back and viewed her from two angles at once. The boy¡¯s eyes watched her ears and tail and the muscles in her shoulders, and the wolf¡¯s eyes watched her face and legs and paws.

    -¡°We can fight from two angles. But watch this. We are sure you¡¯ve never seen this before,¡±- said Socks and Dirt. They opened their mind sight and all the minds in the area snapped into place, showing their true locations¡ªnear and far, left and right, up and down. Maxima¡¯s mind blazed brightest, nearly drowning out the others, but there was a snake sleeping underground four paces to the left of the wolf, and a bird in a tower window, up and to the rear. ¨C¡°Nothing can hide from us like this. It has been useful.¡±-

    ¡°Dirt, did you start yet?¡± asked Antelmu, peeking around the great black wolf.

    ¡°We started. The boy is looking from a different angle,¡± said Socks and Dirt with the boy¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look any different. I guess you were right,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°We are still the same two bodies,¡± said Dirt¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°I feel like now would be the time to ask them a really hard riddle,¡± said Biandina. ¡°Ugh. This is terrible. I want to tease them somehow, but I don¡¯t have any ideas!¡±

    ¡°Are they doing it? How can you tell?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°Look at how weird he¡¯s standing. It¡¯s obvious. Just look at him. And Socks, too. Look how still he¡¯s holding,¡± said Biandina, pointing.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see it. I guess¡­ Okay, I do, a little. Dirt, can you go like this?¡± he said. He put his finger on the center of his head and spun like a top.

    -¡°Talking to Dirt speaks to both of us,¡±- said Socks and Dirt, mentally. ¨C¡°We do not want to make him spin like that.¡±-

    ¡°See, Socks sounds different, too,¡± said Biandina.

    -¡°We will not spin but we will do this,¡±- said Socks and Dirt. They brought Dirt¡¯s body close to Socks¡¯s and placed him next to the wolf¡¯s front paw. Then they moved in perfect harmony¡ªDirt¡¯s leg raised, and so did Socks¡¯s. They swung their heads, jumped and turned, all at exactly the same time.

    Then they danced. They stomped a rhythm, just a simple one, but turned and moved and hopped as they did it. Socks waved his tail and Dirt shook his hips. They raised their arm and paw. Dirt clapped and Socks snapped his jaws, once, then twice. It was similar to the dance that H¨¨ctor had shown them, all those months ago. They kept it short, just long enough to make the point. Then they stopped, and the boy¡¯s face grinned widely.

    -¡°The boy can only convince the wolf to do this when our minds are one.¡±- said Socks and Dirt. Antelmu and Biandina stared as if unsure whether they were allowed to laugh.

    -Very well. I have seen enough.- said Maxima. She looked at the two children and said, -You should laugh. That was ridiculous.-

    It was too late to break into laughter, but they did smile, and Maxima had a certain sparkle in her eye.

    Socks and Dirt let their minds slide back apart and Dirt immediately felt a little deflated. They should have done it longer, shared their thoughts and hearts a bit more to make up for several days apart. Oh well. They weren¡¯t going to separate again any time soon.

    -I am pleased. That is quite a talent you have learned. It is a shame humans are so short-lived,- said Maxima. -I will permit these three to enter my territory long enough to remove some garbage from the palace ruins.-

    -She is teasing you. It is good garbage. Get your packs so we can leave,- said Socks. Then he lifted Biandina and Antelmu right up into the seventh story window. To their credit, they didn¡¯t scream.

 Volume IV - Chapter 9

    They took the scenic route rather than the direct one. Now that Socks had won her approval and the children were welcome to intrude, Maxima had to take them around and show them everything.

    The first stop was a long, narrow canyon that looked like a giant rip in the earth. It appeared in the middle of nowhere, twenty paces wide and too deep to see the bottom of, and ran for at least a mile. Slightly warmer air came out of it in a gentle, steady breeze, and if everyone was quiet, it made a soft windy sound.

    If they made a loud sound, like Maxima did with a bark that made all three humans jump in surprise, it echoed in a long, stretched out way that sounded completely unnatural. Not the simple quieter echo like shouting at a tree, but a short sound was turned into a long one that faded over time until it vanished.

    Then everyone had to try. Biandina did a loud, sharp, chirp, whose echo sounded somewhat like raindrops. Antelmu shouted ¡°Hello!¡± and the word came back all jumbled up and unintelligible. Then everyone made all sorts of crazy sounds, even Socks, who growled and whined and barked. It sounded different if they yelled straight down than if they yelled sideways, and it even echoed if they shouted upward instead of down, just very quietly.

    ¡°So what¡¯s down there?¡± asked Antelmu, leaning so far over to get a look that Biandina grabbed him and pulled him back.

    -Nothing,- said Maxima. -Caves. Hot water that never bubbles all the way up. Darkness.-

    ¡°I can tell it¡¯s warmer,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°Does prey gather here?¡±

    -Creatures who can survive the season do not prefer places like this in the winter. That behavior is unique to humans and domesticated beasts.-

    ¡°Oh. Well, I bet this a nice place to come relax during a hunt. Warm up and recover some energy,¡± said Biandina, sounding a bit overfriendly. Dirt wondered if she was acting like that because Maxima was the only other female and she wanted to be friends, or because she was still worried about being eaten.

    Either way, Maxima¡¯s tolerance extended at least this far. Her reply was simple but not incisive. -I do not get cold. I rest where it is quieter and less open.-

    ¡°Do you hunt often?¡± asked Biandina. She turned her body slightly, opening her posture a bit more to the great wolf.

    -Every few weeks. I prefer to eat my fill and spend my time on other things. My mate hunts for the sake of the hunt and wanders far. I do not,- said Maxima. She gave a little hop and crossed over the chasm, then gave one last long howl into its depths. She turned her head this way and that, and the sound that came back up warbled and resonated and sounded completely unlike a wolf. Then she looked up and Dirt could swear she was pleased with herself.

    Maxima gave a tiny little huff and flicked her ear. The end of her tail twitched and her nose dipped just a little. All those things told Dirt volumes already, but she said, just to him, -I am grown but that does not mean I do not play.-

    Then Socks had to try it, of course, and it took him a few tries to figure out how to get the echoes to smoosh together in just the right way. Once he succeeded, there was no doubt he was pleased with himself. His tail wagged furiously and he practically bounced where he stood.

    After that, the wolves were content to watch in amusement as the humans tired out their voices trying to do it as well, but they never quite managed. Dirt figured his lungs were simply too small and his voice too quiet to make it work. His howls only lasted a few seconds, and that wasn¡¯t long enough.

    Antelmu cheated and made a warbling sound with his voice, and Biandina smacked him which made him giggle.

    -Come, enough of this. We are moving on,- said Maxima, which was fine with Dirt, since his voice was starting to get raspy and loose after all that shouting.

    Maxima led them along the crevice until it ended, then kept on until large forested hills appeared in the distance. The snowy trees gave a richness to the view that Dirt had never seen before as white and black clashed in countless pinpricks all across the hills. That was their destination¡ªup into those hills, dodging carefully between tall green conifers and bare, scraggly leafy trees. The view itself was refreshing enough, but the scent was incredible. The pines had spots of hard sap whose fragrance filled their nostrils, pleasant and heady and sharp and welcoming. It was an energizing scent, one that declared this was a good place.

    Maxima slowed to a quick walk to step gracefully between the pines, many of which were taller than she was. Dirt caught her rubbing a bit of fur against the tree trunks in a few places, which he was sure she did to keep some of the scent on her. In part because after seeing that, Socks got the same idea and rubbed the side of his head and shoulder on the next tree that was tall enough, and the one after that.

    Dirt had never seen a place quite like this. Tall mountains, sure, and forests. Pines and hills. But never in the snow, and never with such a rich scent. There was something about it that both welcomed him and turned him away. The scenery was incredible in the winter, the trees beautiful and their perfume almost intoxicating. But it was cold. This was not a human place, not without a lot of extra effort. It was a place to visit, not a place to dwell.

    The great black wolf led them farther and farther in until stopping before a much larger tree with thick reams of bark running up and down its height. It looked larger and older than the others, but was otherwise unremarkable.

    -This tree is older than the Sunset Empire,- said Maxima, -by more than a thousand years.-

    Dirt took a moment to realize what she¡¯d just said, and another moment to believe it. He looked with his mind sight and found nothing unusual to pick it out from all the others. Just hundred of dim little tree-minds, all basically the same. All happy. All resting and quiet for the winter.

    ¡°What¡¯s the Sunset Empire? Dirt mentioned it once or twice,¡± said Biandina.

    Maxima seemed surprised. -Do you forget things so quickly? And here I thought myself young, to have not been around to see it.-

    Socks said, -That is a long time to remember something, for humans. Most only know of things a few generations back, which for them might only be a hundred years.-

    As if his big sister needed to be told any of that. Still, she didn¡¯t scold him, or even give a condescending reply. Instead she answered Biandina¡¯s question. -The Sunset Empire was what these lands were called in the days before the world was broken. That was three thousand years ago.-

    Dirt could still hardly believe it. Just a regular tree, and older than the dryad forest? He expected something that old to be remarkable somehow. Intelligent enough to talk to, at the very least. But it wasn¡¯t. It was ancient, but unchanged by time. Thicker and taller, with fewer needles down low, but not so different that Dirt would have noticed and stopped if they were passing by without comment.

    ¡°Can I get a closer look?¡± asked Antelmu.

    Socks stepped close enough to rub his fur on it, and Antelmu leaned out and traced his fingers along the rough bark. Biandina was missing that arm, but she twisted around and reached out as well. Dirt watched the nearby minds for the impression of their touch, hoping he could pick out which tree it was, but nothing registered. The bark must be too thick or insensate.

    ¡°So how old is the tree, total?¡± asked Biandina.

    ¡°She just said,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°No, she said the empire was three thousand years ago, and the tree is a thousand years older than the empire. We¡¯re missing a length of time,¡± said Biandina. Dirt could hear the irritation she was keeping from her voice. Maxima¡¯s tolerance was best left untested.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Antelmu. He fidgeted like he wanted to say something cross as well, but kept his mouth shut.

    -Eight hundred years. A more accurate answer would be complicated,- said Maxima.

    She showed them a round lake inside a large hill, which looked like the top had been scooped out and filled in with rainwater.

    She showed them a cave that was just large enough for her to crawl in and curl up, with an opening a bit farther back that led to a smaller, empty chamber with a low ceiling.

    She showed them a waterfall as tall as she was. Ice gathered around the edges and piled up atop the rocks down below where it splashed, but the water itself ran noisy and strong.

    She showed them a hollow in the hills that looked entirely unremarkable until she started pointing things out. -See that crevice? The sun rises from exactly that spot on the longest day. And over there, those two hills where the boulder fell? It rises from that spot on the shortest day. It rises along that tall lone tree on the two days that are equal between day and night. I replant it whenever it dies.-

    Now that he had an idea what to look for, there were other things around that seemed out of place. Standing boulders in places they wouldn¡¯t have naturally ended up. Trees planted alone to mark different parts of the horizon. The hollow they were in hid most of the surrounding hilltops, giving the impression of a basically even horizon in every direction. And all along it, markers of various kinds.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Biandina said, ¡°I bet you watch the entire year from here.¡±

    -I do, little human. I watch in part to measure the seasons and know the cycling of the times and ages, and in part to measure the influence of the Devourer on the world.-

    Dirt¡¯s mind filled with questions, but that was not a topic to discuss with the children here. The details of that were Mother¡¯s to share, not his. Maxima noticed, however, and sent him a message directly. -I am watching for him to reach his weakest, and then we will have a brood. He is stronger now than he has been in my lifetime and only Father and Mother are strong enough to risk it.-

    ¡°That has something to do with where the sun comes up?¡± asked Dirt. The idea scratched at his missing memories. He must have known all about this when he was Avitus. Times and seasons and the things in the sky.

    -In part, friend of my brother. There are many other signs. You will not be staying long enough for me to teach them.-

    ¡°Have you ever had pups of your own?¡±

    -I have not,- said Maxima. Dirt expected her to sound resentful, or at least regretful, but she sounded patient instead. -We are not strong enough to keep them alive. Do not think it is easy simply because Socks can wander and avoid the Devourer¡¯s jaws. Father is doing much to influence the world to assist, or I would not allow such a target to enter my lands.-

    ¡°Well, I hope you do have pups someday, and I hope they¡¯re all as strong as Socks.¡±

    -Is that sympathy? From a human?- asked Maxima, sounding terribly amused. She even flicked her tail and smacked her jaws, as if she was about to let her tongue loll out and resisted.

    Dirt smiled shyly and didn¡¯t comment answer, lest his comments edge into something that might seem disrespectful or lack the proper humility.

    They left and she showed them a rocky peak where countless birds of prey nested, and the open fields around it where they hunted.

    She showed them a statue carved right into a cliff face, depicting a naked man with a spear and only one sandal stabbing a creature Dirt couldn¡¯t identify. -That is a lion,- said Maxima, without further explanation.

    ¡°Humans used to be able to make things like that, a long time ago,¡± said Dirt. Biandina and Antelmu nodded appreciatively, but they weren¡¯t quite sure what to make of it.

    Maxima showed them a narrow passage that was invisible unless you stood in just the right spot, whose colors blended so well you would never find it. The passage led to a small area nestled gently in the rocks with nothing but an empty gazebo in the middle. Its roof was green and all one piece, with patterns of leaves carved into its surface. The supports were decorated with twirling ivy and flowers, and looked like wood, but undecayed despite its obvious age. The decoration spread from the pillars to make an intricate netting between them, forming arches of flowers to walk under.

    The three children slid down off Socks and went in, stepping almost reverently on the wood floor, still smooth as polished stone with the finest of lacquers. It bore no furniture, though; just drifted snow and old, windblown leaves.

    -Summon a wind, little Dirt, and listen carefully,- said Maxima.

    He did, calling up the magic and speaking it into the world. He wasn¡¯t sure which direction, so he had it blow across the great wolf¡¯s face instead of right into it. No sooner did the air move than whispers arose all around them and the three children ducked and startled in amazement. The wind whistled softly in the countless holes and spaces of the decorations and the sound was shaped so perfectly that it began to sound like a crowd, all whispered too quietly to make out what they were saying. Their tone was eager. That much could be heard.

    -More wind. Listen,- commanded Maxima

    Dirt pushed more mana into the wind and it sped up and blew harder. The whispering gave the sense of sliding together into solid tones, gentle flute sounds making a single, broad chord. The impression was of a choir who, in preparation, chatted amongst themselves until it was time to sing.

    The children, Dirt included, held perfectly still in near awe at the majesty and artistry of it. How was such a thing even possible? Dirt detected no magic other than his own.

    -Blow the wind in a different direction.-

    Dirt calmed the wind and summoned another, perpendicular to the first. When it was gentle, the whispers arose again but they sounded deeper now, men¡¯s voices instead of women¡¯s. And again when the wind blew harder and the whispers became a choir¡ªthe tone was lower, with a different timbre.

    They listened for a while as Dirt blew the wind in different directions. Myriad voices arose, seeming almost like ghosts standing invisibly all around them. Rotating the wind¡¯s direction was slow, but when he did, a song emerged. Different chords played from each direction, smoothing together to move through their harmonies.

    The wind was cold, though, despite the thick fur clothing, and Dirt could only stand it in for so long. He was the first to start shivering, but held on until Biandina¡¯s face turned red and she started sniffling and held her arm against her chest to keep warm.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe humans made this, too,¡± said Biandina, with a ¡®let¡¯s move on¡¯ tone of voice.

    -They did not. Humans never matched this, to my knowledge. This was made by the creatures that came before them. I do not know how old it is, but Father does. I cannot guess what it was for. I found it only recently, from my perspective, when I heard it whistling.-

    Despite seeing it in a new and wondrous light, the two siblings had worn out their interest in it. They nodded, gave it once last long look, and started walking back over to Socks.

    Dirt was still impressed, though. Older than humans. Gentle and perfect and eternal, preserved across ages uncountable. He began to wonder what sort of beings they were, and where they might have gone, and how anything could last so long. They had made the magic circle that brought Dirt and Socks here, so how many other things had they left behind? And had anyone in the Sunset Empire known about them? Perhaps the library in the Schola could tell him.

    -Come. We will move quickly to where we are resting.-

    They ran for the rest of the day, having spent almost all of it in travel. The last leg of the journey was dark, and visibility was low despite the snow, since the moon wouldn¡¯t rise until after they were asleep. Socks and Maxima could see just fine, but the humans couldn¡¯t, and when it was finally time to stop, it was hard to say where they¡¯d ended up.

    It was a little nook nestled in the trees with a huge mound of dirt to one side. There was just enough room in there for Maxima and Socks to cuddle together, and for the children to grab blankets and find a spot to join them.

    The next morning came early, with the children up and ready to go before the sun came up. Maxima had gone and arrived not too long after Socks woke up, slinking silently between the trees until she was upon them. -Are you hungry yet, pup?-

    -Yes,- said Socks, stretching before he even opened his eyes.

    -Then go fetch yourself one of my deer.-

    -Thank you,- said Socks.

    After that, it was finally time to go see the ruins and the ¡®garbage.¡¯ It was a long journey, though, even at a pace so quick that the chill in the air kept the humans from watching where they were going, since it was too cold on their eyes. Instead, they turned and watched backward or to the side, huddled tightly as they lay on the wolf¡¯s back for warmth. The scenery passed and passed and passed, more than Dirt could hope to remember.

    Maxima let them stop somewhere around midday to stretch their legs and eat some of their stored meat, but it was overcast and windy, and the afternoon brought a mild snowstorm that just made them colder. At least the wind from Socks¡¯ running kept the snow from collecting on them and melting.

    When they arrived at the ruins, only the solitary face of the half-opened palace marked the spot. The rest of the city was gone, likely buried like Maxima had mentioned. No roads, no empty footings. Nothing. Just flat, rocky plains with very little snow and tufts of dead grass, and a solitary ruined building in the middle of it all.

    The palace had no spires. It was a rectangular building with pillars around the outside like a temple, and Dirt suspected it had been surrounded by gardens once. It looked to him like a villa of greatly exaggerated size, four stories tall and wide enough to house ten families in.

    The front was torn right off, two thirds of the way to either edge, and as they got closer, they could see into many rooms at once. Maxima led them right up into the gap and a short way into the building, all the way to the rear wall, where an old, weatherworn stone chair sat exposed to the elements. The tiled stone floor only extended a few paces forward from the throne before it fell away.

    The Regina¡¯s blood and bones had vanished ages ago, but this was the spot. That was the wall she¡¯d been painted across. The space overhead was cavernous, built high and airy to give majesty to the throne room. Much of the ceiling had fallen in, crashing and shattering on the floors below, but enough of it was still there to give the effect.

    -Get down and go look for garbage you wish to keep. This building was too much trouble to tear down and bury, so we left it untouched.-

    ¡°Where should we start looking, Great One?¡± asked Biandina.

    -The things the human was holding are at opposite ends of the room. I suppose those things are the most interesting so start there.-

    ¡°Would you mind, Socks? Can you lift us over?¡±

    The pup obliged and lifted the children off his back and set them carefully over by the throne, only releasing his mental grip after shaking the floor a bit to make sure it would hold.

    As soon as his feet hit the ground, Antelmu spotted something to the left and ran along the narrow floor to get it. Dirt followed him, and said, ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes up too quickly. It won¡¯t just be lying around.¡±

    Antelmu ignored him and bent down to swipe some leaves off the ground. ¡°Wow! Oh, wow!¡± he shouted.

    ¡°What is it?¡± asked Dirt, walking a bit faster.

    Antelmu picked something up and before Dirt got there, stood and turned around holding a spear taller than he was. It had a flat, reflective metallic spearhead and intricate floral decoration all up and down the haft.

    Dirt recognized it. ¡°The Sceptrum Flammae! It¡¯s¡­ It really is!¡± He darted forward to get a better look and sure enough, he recognized it. This weapon was more famous than any single Emperor had been. It was a weapon from the Dawn Empire and lasted all throughout the ages until the Sunset Emperors held it as sign of their authority. The knowledge resurfaced in him like any other recognition. Dirt was sure he had never once held it, but now that he thought about it, he could think of a few places in the remains of Turicum where it had been depicted in sculpture and he hadn¡¯t noticed.

    If this was the Sceptrum Flammae, that must mean¡ªDirt wasn¡¯t sure, but there must be something else. He turned and raced over to Biandina, all the way across the grand hall, and found her trying to pull something out of the wall. He edged around her and found her tugging hard on a sword handle. The blade had sunk that far into the stone.

    ¡°Can I try?¡± he asked. And before she answered, he slid his hand under hers and put mana into his arm. He gave the sword a little wiggle and a sharp tug and it slid back out of the stone.

    ¡°It really is! The Aurora Belli! I can¡¯t believe it!¡± shouted Dirt. ¡°Just sitting here!¡±

    -We left them where they were after killing her.-

    The blade looked like a much longer version of his knife, long and single-edged with a slight, graceful curve. This had been a companion to the spear, held by the Emperor as signs of Fire and Light to the people he ruled.

    ¡°Here,¡± he said, handing it back to her. His eyes drank in the sight. This was something momentous. That, or his reaction was exaggerated by the rarity of seeing something he recognized still in perfect condition. He wasn¡¯t sure and didn¡¯t care. ¡°That¡¯s. Wow. Wow!¡±

    The children walked toward the middle, and Antelmu spun the spear with a huge grin. Dirt jumped in excitement, bouncing like a rabbit as he walked, unable to contain his excitement. ¡°Thank you, Maxima! And Mors! Tell him thank you for us too!¡±

    -I have no use for such things. I am curious to see what Socks¡¯s little pet humans will do with them.-

    ¡°Thank you, Great one,¡± said Biandina with a graceful bow. She held the sword cradled in her arm.

    ¡°Thank you, Great one,¡± said Antelmu with a very awkward bow. He wasn¡¯t sure how to hold the spear and didn¡¯t want to put it down. But it was sincere and charming nonetheless.

    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe it. I¡¯ll tell you about those later, but the short version is, I think they¡¯re like my knife. Eternal blades. I wonder what else there is in here?¡± said Dirt, almost speaking too fast to get the words out.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go find out,¡± said Antelmu. They split up and raced off, but neither sibling put down their new weapons to speed the search.

 Volume IV - Chapter 10

    Maxima¡¯s account of the destruction of the city had featured great billows of fire, even if most of the killing had been much more direct, but those fires hadn¡¯t touched the remains of the palace. The only structural damage done here was having the front portion scooped away, and afterward, the ravages of time.

    Every living soul had been ripped apart and painted across the walls, even inside rooms whose doors remained shut. Those corpses who had landed beyond the reach of the sun and weather were often still there, slumped over. Some were nothing but collapsing bones, but others were mummified, their dry organs strung out across entire rooms. The stains on the walls were often still visible, no faster to decay than anything else.

    Aside from the corpses, a surprising amount of finery remained, although worms and moths had put much of it beyond hope of re-use. The graceful cabinets were fragile and old now, turning to sawdust and bearing tunnels where the bugs ate away the wood. They often contained only dust and strips of cloth instead of fine garments. The carpets were missing large swaths of their yarn and came apart underfoot. Tapestries sagged and fell, their stories lost forever.

    But enough of it remained to fill the children¡¯s heads with wonder at what it must have been like. Biandina and Antelmu hadn¡¯t seen the Duke or his home, and their traditional lifestyle had no room to accommodate anything like what they found. The sheer amount of wood itself was enough to cast them into awe. They squealed in wonder and shouted for the others to come look at nearly every room they entered, and before long, the two of them went almost hand in hand.

    Dirt shared his sight with Socks, who lay outside and sniffed the breeze while they shared the experience of exploring. Dirt¡¯s body and fingers were best for this task anyway, and Maxima was still interested in how they did it. For her part, she sat there and stared at Socks¡¯s mind trying to figure it out.

    The most interesting parts were the artwork, which was everywhere. Decorative molding along the walls, fine woodwork supporting every banister, floral patterns and human figures on every pillar. Paintings whose colors brightened into view when Dirt blew the dust off, old drawings on brittle paper, the remains of tapestries showing people wearing clothing Dirt had never seen. Dirt found a large book with a leather binding and opened it, but it split in half when he did so he closed it again and left it there.

    One table had carved stone figurines in different shapes standing on a multi-colored board of lacquered wood, which Dirt suspected was a game, but he couldn¡¯t begin to guess the rules.

    Antelmu and Biandina found all sorts of useless things they wanted to keep. Carved wooden figurines, gold jewelry, lengths of cloth so soft and faint that Dirt wondered if it was the silk that H¨¨ctor had been talking about. They stuffed their packs to bursting, even tossing out other things they thought less valuable.

    The children set their packs down by Socks, who raised his head and asked, -Are you ready to go already? You don¡¯t want to keep looking?-

    It turned out they did want to keep looking, given the option, and went back in to explore much more slowly. They spent the entire day in there, exploring even through Dirt and Socks taking a nap. Every room, even the dark cellars they had to summon Dirt to see inside. Those had been full of wine on wooden racks, a few of which had collapsed sending thick, dark glass splaying everywhere. Antelmu wanted to try some, but Dirt said he knew what it was and that it was disgusting, so he didn¡¯t.

    The stairs gave out near the top of a tower and Biandina crashed through and might have fallen a great distance, but Maxima caught her and set her down safely, even though a dozen rock walls between them blocked the great wolf¡¯s vision. That was something Socks couldn¡¯t do, unless he¡¯d learned in the last few days.

    The thing Dirt took primary notice of was where the best beds were, the cleanest and most livable ones, of which there were still a few. They weren¡¯t as soft as the ones in the tower in Llovella, which had been centuries newer, but for all their age, they weren¡¯t too bad.

    After the sun went down, Maxima said, -We will spend some time together. Gather some wood to make a fire.-

    Dirt was far less dainty about it than the other children were, but they found enough ruined furniture to smash into pieces that each of them brought exactly as much as they could carry and set it down on the stone of the bottom floor, where the wolves were waiting.

    -I want to see you ignite it,- commanded Maxima, and Antelmu obliged.

    He started by tapping the sawdust off and rubbing the decayed parts to get tiny bits of wood, then gathering it into a pile. Once he was satisfied with those, he awkwardly used the sharp edge of the Sceptrum Flammae¡¯s broad, gleaming spearhead to shave some wood into thinner pieces. Once he had enough of those, he set a few larger logs at the ready.

    Antelmu took a small iron knife and a rock from his pack and scraped them together to create a shower of sparks. They landed right on the pile of dust, which immediately began smoking. The boy leaned down and blew on the infant flames to grow them, and began adding larger and larger bits of wood until he had a proper flame. After that, he stacked the larger pieces into a sturdy square fence around the fire and sat back with a grin of pride. ¡°One stroke,¡± he said. ¡°One stroke fire.¡±

    ¡°It feels dirty burning so much,¡± said Biandina. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be one of the largest fires I think I¡¯ve seen.¡±

    And soon it was, at least for them. Dirt wasn¡¯t that impressed, and neither were the wolves. But it was bright and warm and welcoming, and Socks and Maxima snuggled together with their snouts pointed inward to keep warm. The dancing flames took on fantastical shapes in the reflections of their yellow eyes.

    -Tell me a human story. Each of you. I have never heard one and Socks speaks highly of them,- commanded Maxima. -I cannot imagine what creatures like you would have to talk about.-

    ¡°Oh, I can do that!¡± said Antelmu, before thinking about it. He glanced over at Maxima and visibly lost his nerve. But Biandina reached across and patted him on the shoulder, even though he was sitting on the armless side, and pinched him for good measure. He smiled nervously and swatted her hand away.

    ¡°Okay, once there was, um,¡± said Antelmu. He paused.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t thought of one yet, have you?¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°No! I have,¡± he said.

    ¡°How about Orsu and the Man-eater?¡±

    ¡°That¡­¡± said Antelmu. ¡°I guess that¡¯s better than the one I thought of.¡±

    ¡°What one were you thinking of? Teramu and the Nine Virgins?¡±

    ¡°No, it was¡­ Vitu,¡± he said, whispering the name.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Biandina, also dropping her voice. She glanced at Maxima nervously and said, ¡°Yeah, do Orsu.¡±

    That made Dirt incredibly curious what Vitu¡¯s story was about, or Teramu¡¯s for that matter, but those would have to wait. Antelmu started right away.

    ¡°A long time ago, when everyone lived in his own building and had his own fields and everyone died in the same place they were born, was a man named Orsu. Or, I mean, he was born. When he was born, the midwives put him on his mother¡¯s breast to nurse, after they cleaned him up, I guess. He was healthy but they, well, never mind. But when they put him on his mother¡¯s breast to nurse, he drank all her milk and started crying for more, but he had to wait so she put him down. Put him on the ground, I mean,¡± said Antelmu. He swallowed hard, growing more nervous.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    -Do not displease me with a poor telling, child,- said Maxima, filling the cold air with an edge of menace.

    -Don¡¯t tease him. He can¡¯t tell. She¡¯s teasing you, Antelmu,- said Socks.

    Dirt smiled slightly, not quite sure how to react to that, but he sent a quiet little puff of courage to Antelmu, subtle enough he would think it came from himself.

    Maxima said, -If you tell him I am teasing, that ruins the fun. You are safe here, child. Continue.-

    ¡°He¡¯s easy to tease. He just has that face, you know?¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Shut up, Biandina,¡± said Antelmu, letting a little smile slip out. ¡°All I have to do to tease you is clap.¡±

    ¡°I can clap, I just need your help. Hold up your hand. Do it. Hold it up,¡± she replied, acting sincere. Antelmu rolled his eyes and held his hand up, turning toward her to make it easier.

    She smacked him on the side of his head and said, ¡°Clap.¡±

    Maxima flicked her ears toward the children and gave a subtle sniff. She wasn¡¯t about to admit it, but she was clearly amused.

    ¡°I should not have fallen for that,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°Okay. So, anyway, Orsu¡¯s mother put him down and fell asleep, because she was tired from childbirth and feeding him. But when she woke up, the midwives had left and her husband was sleeping beside her, and the baby was gone.

    ¡°She got up and stumbled out of her tent, er¡­¡± Antelmu¡¯s eyes got wide and he looked back at the ruined palace once more.

    ¡°What?¡± asked Biandina.

    ¡°I just realized that when the old stories say everyone lived in their own building, it wasn¡¯t like a tent. I always thought it was maybe a bigger tent that never moved, but that was wrong, huh? A building, not a tent. And people had all that stuff! I never imagined everything was so different.

    ¡°Okay. Anyway. So, the mother got up and went to find her baby, and she stumbled out of her, uh, her building, and she couldn¡¯t find him anywhere. She asked a woman washing her clothes, and the woman said, ¡®I saw a strong baby crawl by here not too long ago. He went that way,¡¯ and the mother went that way.

    ¡°Then she found a man chopping wood, in a big pile since there was plenty, and I bet that was true, wasn¡¯t it? Sorry. The mother asked him, and the man said, ¡®I saw a toddler run by here a moment ago. He was eating a meat pie.¡¯¡±

    Antelmu grew more animated and comfortable as he talked. He gestured with his hands and made his voice broad and colorful. ¡°Well, at this point, the mother was too sore and tired from just giving birth, and she was hardly dressed or anything, so she went back and woke up her husband. She told him what happened, and he grabbed a loaf of bread and chased after his son.

    ¡°Everywhere he went, people had seen a little boy run past. And now that I think about it, he was probably naked as Dirt, wasn¡¯t he? First they saw a four-year-old, then a seven-year-old who lost half his teeth, then a ten-year-old with good muscle and long hair. And every time, the father was right behind him.

    ¡°Finally, he saw a strong man kneeling by a river to get a drink. The man stood up and had a fish caught with his teeth. He took a bite, swallowed, and said, ¡®Can I help you?¡¯¡±

    Antelmu went from sitting to kneeling so he could gesture better. Dirt wondered if he knew he¡¯d done it.

    ¡°The father knew who it was right away. ¡®My son,¡¯ he said, ¡®I¡¯ve been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been? Come home and rest with your mother.¡¯

    ¡°¡¯I am short on time, Father, but I will not disobey. Only do not keep me too long. Can I eat that bread?¡¯ And the father handed the bread over and they talked while they walked back. It was a long way back, and the whole time, the son kept grabbing things to eat. He stole meat and fruit and anything else he could get his hands on, but the father said nothing.

    ¡°He kept getting bigger and stronger and hairier, and when they made it home, the mother greeted them at the door and said, ¡®Who is this bear of a man, and where is my son?¡¯ So they named him Orsu. He stayed with them that night, slept on the floor in a room they prepared for him. He had to sleep on the floor, though, because they only had a little cradle. But he had blankets.

    ¡°The next morning when they woke up, Orsu was sleeping next to a beautiful woman, and they recognized her as someone from nearby who was looking for a husband. ¡®I took her as my wife, and she carries my child,¡¯ said Orsu. He kissed his wife and got up, and she smiled and went back to sleep.

    ¡°He was muscular and strong, but his hair was starting to get a little gray, and his parents knew his time was short. ¡®I will live a full life before I go, and there is one thing left to do. But first, what is there for breakfast?¡¯¡± said Antelmu, eyes sparkling as he pictured the scene in his mind.

    The boy knew he had everyone¡¯s attention so he paused dramatically, then pulled a strip of jerky from his pack and took a bite. Biandina gave him a reproving scowl, and through a mouthful of food he said, ¡°What? I¡¯m demonstrating this part of the story.¡±

    ¡°That joke is only funny once,¡± she said.

    ¡°Yeah, but they haven¡¯t seen it.¡±

    ¡°Actually, it¡¯s funny zero times.¡±

    Dirt wasn¡¯t quite sure what the joke was, and neither was Socks, but Antelmu¡¯s humor was infectious regardless. Even Biandina¡¯s exasperation was performative, not sincere.

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m ready,¡± said Antelmu. He made as if to start talking again, then quickly took another bite. Biandina smacked him and Dirt snorted. She was wrong¡ªit was funnier the second time.

    Finally he finished and cleared his throat dramatically. ¡°After Orsu had eaten everything in the house except for two eggs that he left for his wife, he took his father¡¯s spear and went outside. The moment he stepped out, everyone heard screaming from the edge of town.

    ¡°A man-eater had come. Do you know what that is, Dirt?¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°I can guess from the name, I think,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°No you can¡¯t,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°It¡¯s a creature the size of a horse, with a human face and three rows of teeth. It has paws like a lion and fur as red as cinabru.¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°What¡¯s cinabru? Oh, wait, is that the same as cinnabaris? I bet it is.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s¡­ cinnabru-is?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°I only know the word. What¡¯s cinabru?¡± said Dirt.

    Biandina said, ¡°It¡¯s a red mineral that we use for dye.¡±

    ¡°Is it poisonous?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, do you know what it is now?¡±

    ¡°Not really. Go on with the story,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Okay. All its parts would be dangerous enough already, but the man-eater also had a tail like a scorpion, and spines at the top that were deadly poison. It could flick its tail and throw the spines faster than an arrow. They called it a man-eater because its favorite prey was humans, and no one had ever killed one.

    ¡°Orsu charged and fought with more strength than anyone had ever seen before. He threw the beast aside and resisted its claws and held its jaw open to keep from being bitten. He batted away its tail with his spear and dodged all its spines. They fought for the rest of the day, but hour by hour, Orsu got older and older.

    ¡°Finally, as night was about to fall, the man-eater finally got him. It threw its last spine and his old eyes didn¡¯t see it in time. The spine hit him in the neck and he knew he was going to die. So with the last of his strength, he leaped on the man-eater and bit it as deep as he could and spat its own poison back into the wound. They died together.

    ¡°They buried him upright, riding on the man-eater like a horse, holding the spear up in victory, and put a cairn on top so no one would forget where it was. I¡¯ve been there to see it once.

    ¡°That was the last time anyone saw a man-eater, and some say there was only ever one, just like there was only ever one Orsu. But his wife gave birth to twin sons, and each of them had ten children, and each of them had ten children, until every living person in the plains from the mountains to the forest had some of his blood in them. The end.¡±

    Antelmu sat back, watching carefully for the reaction. Dirt said, ¡°I¡¯ve never heard one like that before. Is it true? Did that really happen?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Probably,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°I think so. I¡¯ve been to his grave.¡±

    -I am familiar with such creatures. There is a similar one in my territory,- said Maxima. -They did indeed wander the plains and forests many years ago.-

    The mood went from warm and friendly to nervous in the space of only a few breaths as Socks and the rest reimagined the monster as something real and present, not just words in a tale.

    -Is it a half-dead thing?- asked Socks.

    -It is an abomination like you are thinking, little Socks, but such things have their uses on rare occasions. It is no threat to anything I value.-

    -I do not like them,- said Socks, his mental voice darkening.

    -Then I permit you to kill it. We will go in the morning, and the humans will try first. If they falter, you may assist,- said Maxima.

    Antelmu and Biandina froze, and even Dirt felt a hard little ball of fear knot together inside his chest.

    Maxima raised her head and peered down at the siblings to say, -What better way to welcome your new claws than washing them in the blood of something hateful? Or are they mere ornaments?-

    ¡°They¡¯re not ornaments,¡± whispered Antelmu, trying and failing to speak aloud. He gripped his spear, but his fingers had no strength in them.

    -Dirt and I can fight but I don¡¯t want to lose the other two humans,- said Socks.

    -Tomorrow you will be leaving my territory either way. They may choose how they are remembered. If they wish to demonstrate that humans have some worth after all, they will fight. It is one simple creature,- said Maxima.

    Biandina looked over to catch her brother¡¯s gaze. Her eyes were resolute, full of courage, and it nearly startled him. She nodded, and he nodded back. They held each other¡¯s gaze for a moment longer. They turned, having communicated what they needed to, and said, ¡°We¡¯ll fight.¡±

 Volume IV - Chapter 11

    They passed the rest of the evening with a few more stories, which Dirt and the wolves enjoyed. But the two children carried a note of anxiousness that kept them shifting in their seats or forgetting key details that the other had to remind them of. Biandina kept the Aurora Belli by her side, but never touched it. And not out of reverence, even though it was an object that even an Emperor would show respect for. It was just a sword to her, and taking it up meant imminent bloodshed. Antelmu kept such a tight grip on the Sceptrum Flammae that his knuckles ached after a while. He stopped once in mid-sentence to stretch his fingers in confusion.

    It seemed they didn¡¯t dare stop talking, either, even though their hearts weren¡¯t in the tales they were telling, and it began to make Dirt and Socks uncomfortable on their behalf. Finally, in an act of unexpected mercy, Maxima pushed the two children to sleep with a huff. -Better for them to sleep than wait until their courage fails. They are nervous little things, aren¡¯t they?-

    -They are young, and they are just humans,- said Socks in their defense. -From what I can tell, humans usually rely on numbers for protection, and these ones do not have numbers.-

    Maxima paused before replying, as if to acknowledge Socks¡¯s point. After a moment, she said, -I watched them for many years on my borders, but I did not listen to what they said to each other. They were never worthy of much attention.-

    She sniffed at the two children from where she sat, and her great lungs made the campfire flicker.

    -They are more interesting than anyone realizes. I think some of my litter will find one of their own to keep, once they grow up. They all liked my little Dirt,- said Socks.

    -I doubt a pet human will have the same appeal once they are grown. The opinions of pups are not worth much. You have not been alive long enough to understand the things you are learning,- said Maxima. -Your pet seems hardier than average. He will likely die when he is old, but that is not a long time. His own offspring will know you, and perhaps the next generation. But the third generation will not know him, and what they know of you will be different.-

    -I think you want to save me from being sad later, but what is happening, is you are making me mad now,- said Socks. -I am not going to take anyone¡¯s advice and get rid of him early.-

    -Do as you wish, little brother. Father and Mother both permit it. I do not dislike him. He is cute and does not argue,- said Maxima. She raised her great head and set her yellow eyes on Dirt.

    Familiar as Dirt was with being looked at by a wolf, it still struck a note of animal terror in his heart that he couldn¡¯t push away. He had to ignore it instead, since it was silly and he wasn¡¯t in any danger. -Speak, little Dirt, and tell me if these two would like beds to sleep on.-

    ¡°If it¡¯s not too much trouble, I think they would like it. Just one for them to share so they keep warm,¡± said Dirt, speaking with his mind as directed.

    -Do you want one as well?- she asked.

    ¡°No, not with Socks around. I¡¯d rather sleep with him,¡± he replied.

    -Very well. Watch, both of you. I will do it slowly, but only once.-

    Fortunately, he realized what she meant just in time. He turned his inner gaze toward his mana body, and from there outward.

    Maxima struck the world with her will and a flare of power ignited his mana sight, filling it with a bright spell made of surprisingly few sigils. It wasn¡¯t quite a true perception¡ªshe was acting directly, her will itself pulling on the structure of the world. But filtered through his understanding, the operation glowed in increasing clarity. It specified an object¡ªa bed, complete with covers, which she must be seeing nearby¡ªand forced it into existence anew, here, by forcing the physical world to reshape itself in an expression of raw power. It took far, far more mana than he could hope to handle, but for her, it was effortless.

    The bed¡¯s heavy wooden frame didn¡¯t even thump¡ªit wasn¡¯t dropped. It simply began to be, right there, a short distance from the fire. Dirt got up to inspect it, and swatting it tossed up quite a bit of dust and a faintly musty smell. But this was one of the better ones in the palace, perhaps the best preserved, and it would serve nicely. He stripped away the blankets just to make sure there wasn¡¯t a skeleton in it, and there wasn¡¯t.

    Dirt stepped back and closed his eyes, remembering the magic as hard as he could. There were only two sigils he didn¡¯t recognize, and the relationships were not arranged like he was used to. Even so, as long as he got a chance to try it in the next few days, he could probably figure it out.

    -Show me how this is used,- commanded Maxima, so Dirt climbed into the bed, rested his head on a pillow, and pulled the covers up over his shoulder. Then he slid back out again.

    The two children floated up from the ground so gently they might not have felt it if they were awake, and were put slowly into bed, lying like Dirt had demonstrated. Once Maxima released her hold on them, they breathed deep and shifted slightly, then settled in with contented looks on their sleeping faces. Dirt made sure the blankets covered enough to keep the cold air out, then snuggled in with Socks.

    That night Apkallu came in the dream, watching from a distance and radiating a sense of dismay. Socks and Dirt shared a dream as they almost always did, and no matter how far they went, the fae man was somewhere nearby. Socks ignored him, though, so Dirt did the same.

    Morning came early and cold. Antelmu and Biandina woke Dirt up by whispering to each other from their bed, too quietly to make out the words. Birds or water or wind might have covered the sound, but aside from the air in Socks¡¯s cavernous lungs, it was perfectly silent.

    The morning was hasty once Socks woke up, though, since he thought he might have sensed a whiff of the Devourer in the surprising cold. And it really was cold, colder than Dirt had ever experienced. The sky above was empty and blue, and the brightness of the morning made the cold feel that much more piercing. Each inhalation chilled his nose, and each breath turned to fog in the air before it vanished.

    Biandina and Antelmu didn¡¯t seem to mind the chill. When they saw Socks rise to his feet and sniff around anxiously, they climbed out of bed without complaint and got ready to leave.

    ¡°You look cold, Dirt,¡± said Biandina, a bit of playfulness in her voice. She must have slept really well.

    ¡°I am cold. How can you stand it? This is freezing. I think the weather is broken,¡± he complained.

    ¡°This is normal for winter. It¡¯s a little early to get this cold, but it¡¯s nothing unusual. It¡¯s not even that bad,¡± she said.

    He glared at her, suspecting that the thing making her feel warm, was being a little warmer than he looked. Dirt hugged his arms over his chest and tried not to shiver.

    Antelmu made as if to put his pack on, but decided against it for just a moment longer. He used the time to spin the spear around and do several practice thrusts. He flicked the tip through the air in motions that Dirt thought might deflect someone else¡¯s weapon, and then he wondered if there was a whole art to using weapons that he didn¡¯t know about.

    Biandina did the same, seeing his example. Her motions with the sword were rather unlike what Dirt expected. The knights in Ogena used chopping actions, at least against goblins, but she swung the sword in more graceful arcs and stabs. ¡°It¡¯s a weird length,¡± she declared. ¡°Too long to use like our blades, and too short to use like a spear. Feels more like a shortspear, I think.¡±

    ¡°Well, you just have to hit something with the edge,¡± said Dirt, helpfully.

    ¡°Thank you, Dirt, I think I¡¯ll try that,¡± she replied wryly.

    ¡°I¡¯d say we should spar a little, but I¡¯m afraid one of these will get damaged,¡± said Antelmu.

    Dirt was about to say he was sure they wouldn¡¯t, but was he? No, he was not sure, and losing one of them would be a tragedy, so he kept his mouth shut. Still, the sight of two barbarian youths in poofy fur clothing swinging around the Sceptrum Flammae and Aurora Belli was both shocking and hilarious to old Avitus, and Dirt grinned to himself at the conflict between horror and amusement swirling inside him.

    -I want to leave now,- said Socks, and that was the end of the practicing. The pup picked up their packs and hung them on either side of his harness, then put the three of them on his back.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Maxima?¡± asked Biandina, hunkering down for a run.

    -Dusk and dawn are important times for wolves, at least for adults. She will meet us later.-

    ¡°Do you know where we¡¯re going?¡± she asked.

    -I always know where I¡¯m going. I just don¡¯t always know what I¡¯ll find there.-

    Socks ran with his mental shield forming a wedge in front, and that helped keep the worst of the wind off them. Even with that, Dirt had to sink his fingers as far into Socks¡¯s fur as he could get them and keep his face down to keep from freezing to death. He spent the next hour sniffling.

    Leaving the city took only a moment, and there was no trace of humanity once they left it. Back to the raw and wild hills, the thin snow and yellow grass, patches of bare gravel and earth. They ran with the sun at their backs, Socks nearly chasing his own shadow.

    The pup itched to chase the deer they saw, or go sniff at the large brown creature peeking at them from halfway up a tree, but this was not the time. Exploration of his siblings¡¯ territory was at an end, and only one task remained before they were to leave.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Later in the morning, when Dirt thought he might survive the cold, he got up and lay against Socks¡¯s neck, resting his arms on the pup¡¯s head. They shared their senses of sight and smell, quieting their minds and focusing to keep from getting dizzy. It was not until past noon, however, that Socks finally caught a whiff of their prey. It was a complex scent, somewhat feline and insectoid at the same time. Strangely, it was a fully-developed scent. The thing they smelled was a female, mature enough to mate and in good health.

    Then Socks caught the scent of a second one, and a third. He slowed while Dirt scanned the horizon with his human eyes. It was not what either of them were expecting. Half-dead things did not smell healthy and fertile.

    -Sister, is this the right prey?- Socks asked, sending his thoughts out into the distance.

    -If an abomination breeds and bears young, its young are alive. Some abominations rest unchanging until they are disturbed, but not all,- came Maxima¡¯s reply. Dirt rolled that over in his mind, taking it in, while Socks simply accepted it.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± asked Biandina.

    -There is more than one, and they are not far,- said Socks.

    Socks slowed and licked his nose to feel the wind, but the air wasn¡¯t moving. No wind at all. That meant either the creatures had been here recently, or they were even closer than he thought. He sniffed the ground, checking everywhere for traces, but found nothing. The scent was in the air, not on the ground.

    Maxima¡¯s voice spoke in their minds. -I am watching. Find one for the humans to kill, and then you may handle the rest.-

    ¡°Great one, if Antelmu and I can kill one by ourselves, I hope you will remember that humans can be useful sometimes too, and maybe¡ª¡± said Biandina aloud.

    But Maxima interrupted her and said, -Do not seek to counsel me.- But there was a sense of something more, something left unsaid for Biandina to intuit on her own.

    Antelmu whispered, ¡°Show me what you are.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Biandina.

    Dirt agreed. That felt right. But he wasn¡¯t happy about it, because if they were proving themselves, then he shouldn¡¯t help, and they had no experience with this sort of thing. Biandina¡¯s earlier encounter with the birds hadn¡¯t ended well for her.

    -Don¡¯t watch,- said Socks, just to Dirt. Dirt nodded and severed their connected vision and smell, then made sure to keep his mind sight elsewhere. Once he was sure it wouldn¡¯t hurt Dirt¡¯s little human brain, Socks peered out with his ghost sight, taking in a larger and larger radius of the landscape all at once.

    He started moving again, circling to the left to head up behind some hard-barked trees with no leaves, growing tightly together. A bit farther and they found a small stream, running quickly through a narrow bed. Socks followed that for several minutes as the gentle hills grew rockier and more pronounced.

    He stopped, and ahead, the stream ended at a small pool nestled in the shade of a natural cavern, just taller than Socks was.

    They heard it now. The beast was in there, likely resting in some sort of nest. It made a clicking sort of purr, a wrong sound, an unpleasant one. Loud and sharp and steady, but rhythmic, like breathing.

    Dirt looked for traces and found them. Strands of fur snagged on a branch, tracks in the snow. No droppings, which was curious. That meant it was smart enough to care about keeping its area clean.

    Only then did he remember to open his mind sight. The creature was not half-dead, nor did it seem particularly abominable. The light of its mind made it look just a bit smarter than a goblin. That was still plenty intelligent to be dangerous, though. It knew the wolf was here but had smelled that scent before and never been harmed. It was watching patiently to see if something was about to enter its lair.

    Socks moved closer, padding silently along the noisy stream until they were no more than twenty paces from the wide cleft in the rock. Then he lowered himself so the humans could slide off.

    -It is in there. Do not die, little humans,- said Socks.

    They both froze for a moment and gripped their weapons tighter. Antelmu held his spear forward in both hands, and Biandina let the sword rest across her shoulders in a way that looked ready for a downward strike. Dirt looked at their minds, and both of them were steeling themselves for a fight to the death.

    Socks would save their lives, if it came to that. He hadn¡¯t said otherwise, even if they thought he did. But Dirt agreed this was for the best. If they wanted to impress Maxima, they had to take it seriously.

    They were both clearly terrified. They radiated it in every motion and posture. He could hear them breathing in a rapid staccato. Dirt jumped down and ran up the side of the rock face, stopping where he could peer down. Their fear was making him nervous. He drew his knife and got ready to jump down there, just in case.

    The cavern was decently spacious, roughly the size of his villa and garden, and open to the sky at the ceiling. The stream arose from a spring in the center, which formed a small pond. Because the area was circular and the center couldn¡¯t be crossed, there would be no pinning the creature against the wall.

    The two children stopped right at the entrance, where they¡¯d have to step over the stream to keep going. Dirt watched them struggle to take just one more step and keep going.

    ¡°I love you, brother,¡± said Biandina softly.

    ¡°I love you too,¡± said Antelmu, voiceless.

    In they went.

    In the bright afternoon sunlight, no shadow could hide something like the beast that lay waiting down there. Its fur was too yellow, for a start. Hearing the children enter its domain, it rose and readied itself, giving Dirt a full view. About the size of a gryphon, its human face was the first thing that grabbed him, and he couldn¡¯t look away. It wasn¡¯t properly formed, more like a goblin¡¯s than a human''s, but oversized to match the rest of its body. An over-wide mouth full of jagged black teeth gaped open beneath tilted, watery eyes. Its pointed tongue licked the air as if tasting their scent, and for all he knew, it was.

    Yellow fur covered the rest of it, apart from long, fleshy spines that rose from its front shoulders. They reminded him of featherless wings, twisted and bony, until the creature stretched them out to full length, and then they looked more like arms. Each had a sharp pincer on the end, which clacked noisily. Its tail was also bare, skin-colored and long, with a spine on the end.

    It gave a low growl, clicky and strange, and flicked its tail toward Biandina, sending a thin splash of fluid. She leaped skittishly out of the way and it landed on the wet ground. Only a few heartbeats later, Dirt could smell it, and he was sure it was poison.

    ¡°One two one!¡± shouted Biandina, which Dirt assumed meant some sort of battle cadence. A plan.

    ¡°I know!¡± squealed Antelmu. He sounded so scared Dirt was surprised he was moving at all.

    The creature spoke, gnashing its jaws, but the sounds were all gibberish. Not even words he didn¡¯t know¡ªit didn¡¯t sound like language at all. Its voice was all raspy, with unconnected clicks and groans. It switched its gaze between the two, back and forth.

    ¡°Now!¡± she screamed, and charged forward, sword raised and ready.

    Antelmu ran with weak knees the first few steps, but he was only one step slower. Exactly one step, and running slightly to the side.

    Whatever plan they had in mind was immediately disrupted when the creature opened its mouth and made an ear-splitting popping sound, so loud it made Dirt¡¯s ears ring. Biandina cried out in pain and stumbled, and the creature chose that exact moment to dart forward and strike with a pincer. Antelmu swung his spear like a staff but didn¡¯t connect.

    It turned to Antelmu and made another pop and Antelmu cried out. Blood dripped out both ears and his nose, and the pain almost undid him. The creature struck with its spiked tail right for the boy¡¯s stomach, but Antelmu turned slightly, perhaps on instinct, and his shirt got punched through instead of his guts.

    The fight began in earnest. Biandina swung the sword in long, wide arc to drive the creature back, and it hissed and snapped at her and clacked its pincers. Antelmu struggled to regain his composure, but he couldn¡¯t let Biandina fight alone. ¡°I can¡¯t hear!¡± he shouted, too loud.

    She didn¡¯t react, not in the least.

    He stepped forward and jabbed the spearhead forward at full length, catching in the fur of the creature¡¯s neck. In the exact moment it reacted, Biandina jabbed her sword for its neck, but missed, and stabbed deep into its shoulder, halfway to the hilt.

    The beast went wild, leaping forward to crush Antelmu beneath its spiked hooves, but he circled hastily to the side.

    Biandina stabbed it again, behind the shoulder this time, hopefully deep enough to hit the lungs. It didn¡¯t react, lost in frenzy. It shot its pincers at her, and one clipped her on the side of the head, the other catching her empty sleeve. She bled profusely from a long gash above her ear, but wasn¡¯t dazed.

    Antelmu gave a quick strike, stabbing at its neck and it turned to catch him in its jaws. It missed and instantly turned to bite Biandina instead. Antelmu took both hands and stabbed it clean through, punching the broad spearhead out the other side of its rib cage.

    Biandina tried to step away from its jaws, but stumbled and fell. Only a quick roll saved her life as it tried to crush her beneath its hooves.

    It jumped and spun halfway around, and Antelmu lost his grip on the spear and stepped back, then farther, disarmed and helpless.

    The beast stabbed its tail for him, but he was just out of reach. Barely. A tiny spurt of poison landed on his shirt.

    Then it stabbed for Biandina, and she rolled once, but was too slow the second time. The creature¡¯s poison spike caught her in the calf, just under the knee. She screamed. It withdrew the spike and stabbed again, but this time she had the sword ready and deflected it, then, severed it with a simple swing.

    She stood, favoring her injured leg severely, and the thing slowed, breathing hard. Blood dripped from its open mouth and its eyes began to lose their menace. Antelmu saw an opening and went for the spear. He yanked it but didn¡¯t get it all the way out.

    The beast shot a pincer down and caught one arm at the wrist, and an effortless snap took the boy¡¯s hand clean off. It didn¡¯t even make a bone-crunching sound.

    Antelmu gave a keening whine of despair, but didn¡¯t give up. He pulled the spear the rest of the way with his left hand, then stabbed at its face, weakly.

    Biandina got the last strike. She plunged the sword up under its jaw, stabbing effortlessly through bone directly into its brain. It went limp and collapsed on top of both of them.

    Socks and Dirt got there at the same time. Socks lifted the beast away with his mind, tossing its corpse maliciously against the side of the cavern.

    Neither Antelmu nor Biandina got back up. They were both alive and aware, but what was the point?

    Antelmu said ¡°Hello?¡± louder and louder, then finally succumbed to the pain and shock of deafness and started crying with closed eyes.

    Biandina struggled and twisted, reaching helplessly for her poisoned leg, hoping the pain would stop. It didn¡¯t, and she choked back sobs with an angry look in her eyes.

    First things first. Dirt found Antelmu¡¯s hand and pulled the boy¡¯s sleeve up, and Socks licked the wound to reconnect it. The flesh rejoined, although loosely; it would need a brace, and the bone would need much longer to heal. -Do not move your arm, little Antelmu,- said Socks. Then he licked the boy¡¯s face, pushing his head side to side with his tongue, and licked his ears.

    Dirt only needed one glance to see how bad Biandina¡¯s leg was. He wasted no time and sliced the pant leg off just above the knee, and urged her to roll to her side so Socks could lick the wound. It was already puffy and red and oozing unpleasant juices, and the odor of it was terrifying.

    -Do not lick that or you will ingest poison,- said Maxima. Her shadow fell over them from above and she slid silently into the cavern, making it much more crowded.

    -I do not want her to die. You must help her,- said Socks. He licked the gash above her ear, then both sides of her head to return her hearing.

    Maxima¡¯s nose rested above her, sniffing the suffering girl. She asked, -Were you willing to die today, little creature?-

    Biandina breathed heavily gasping for air. She struggled to answer through the pain. ¡°If I had to,¡± she said.

    -Why?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I thought I could help,¡± she groaned.

    -Help what?-

    ¡°Help¡­ him. And maybe¡­ my¡­ tribe,¡± she said, gesturing at her brother. ¡°And I don¡¯t wan¡­ want to be useless.¡±

    -Do you feel you have shown courage today?- asked Maxima.

    Biandina opened her eyes and glared right back up at the wolf and said, ¡°Yes!¡±

    The wolf huffed in amusement and glanced down at the girl¡¯s leg. The edges of the wound were turning purple, and threads of red were worming out into the skin.

    Out of nowhere, the girl¡¯s leg came off, severed cleanly a hand¡¯s width above the knee. Maxima tossed the poisoned limb away with her mind and licked the wound shut herself. It took Biandina a moment to realize what had happened, but when she did, she shut her eyes and wept, no longer resisting.

    -Do not despair, girl. Mother tells me the trees want you. I will send you to them. Say goodbye to the others.-

 Volume IV - Chapter 12

    That did not soothe her much. She cried softly and stared up at nothing instead of seeking out a friendly face for comfort, and it felt like she had completely given up. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure if he should interrupt and tell her it would all be fine, over and over until she believed it, or wait until she felt better first. Also, part of him wasn¡¯t quite sure what the trees wanted her for, and that tempered his eagerness to convince her.

    He glanced at her mind and saw that the last of her hope had been severed with her leg. Right when she had made peace with having one arm, something worse and more final had happened. What good would an unbreakable sword do when she couldn¡¯t stand without a crutch? Her few short days of adventure were over. Her entire life was over. Everything she had hoped for herself was no longer possible. After sacrificing to the Murderous Lady, she¡¯d been ready to die. This was worse.

    Antelmu wanted to go help Biandina and wasn¡¯t sure what was happening to her. But he couldn¡¯t move without the bones in his hand coming loose, even if he braced his wrist over his chest, and it was excruciating each time they rubbed together. Dirt saw the brutal pain of it spark in his mind without even paying specific attention. It kept the boy from even sitting back up.

    Socks noticed as well, and an angry huff was all it took for Maxima to hold the bones with her mind, like Mother had done for Dirt early in the summer. The pain instantly vanished and Antelmu sat up in amazement. He figured it out without even being told and whispered, ¡°Thanks.¡±

    -It is temporary, not fully healed,- said Maxima.

    Antelmu nodded and rose shakily to his feet. He made his way to Biandina and stood in shock when he saw her missing leg, unsure what to do next.

    ¡°Help me sit up,¡± said Biandina, after a moment of silence. ¡°I want to see it.¡±

    Antelmu leaned down like he intended to lift her, but she held out her hand for him to grab instead, so he did. Once she was sitting up, she stared at her missing leg like a widow might stare at a corpse. There was no succor in the sight, and further tears would bring no relief.

    -I told you not to despair. Is that not enough to comfort you?-

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I just¡­ What do I do now? I can¡¯t even¡­¡± she said, her voice quiet and distant.

    -You were never going to save your people by yourself with a sharp piece of old metal. You will go to the trees as Mother directs, and for the next fifty years, your tribe¡¯s lands will be free of predators. I will see to it personally. Does that suffice?-

    Dirt raised his eyebrows. That was more than he was expecting, much more. He¡¯d suspected Maxima had something in mind when she insisted the children fight alone, although he¡¯d feared it may have been simple curiosity. But if she had some reward in mind, he thought maybe she¡¯d bring them meat once if the winter was too long, or something like that. Maybe hunt a few of the giant birds to get revenge on Biandina¡¯s behalf. But fifty years of safety?

    Maxima heard his thoughts and turned her gaze to him. -It is for my brother¡¯s sake. He tells me he would be sad if all the humans disappeared. This is a gift for him, not an exchange for killing one little animal. Even so, I would not have done it if these two did not please me in their fight. They are bold little things, are they not? Like the birds who swoop at me to protect their nests.-

    ¡°Thank you, great one,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Antelmu. The two children looked at each other, surprise giving them new energy. Their minds spun with the possibilities. The tribe could leave the outpost long-term, instead of just during the grazing and farming months. They could hunt farther and longer than ever before, free from fear of ambush by the rucce or ragnuli.

    -They will need more than a short reprieve to establish themselves firmly, but it is a start. Either it will help, or it will not. Now say your farewells.-

    That felt awfully hasty, but Dirt wasn¡¯t about to complain. Antelmu urgently asked, ¡°She¡¯s going to Dirt¡¯s forest? With the giant trees and the green tree people?¡±

    -Yes.-

    ¡°Say hello to everyone for me. Marina too, if she¡¯s there,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Tell Home I¡¯m glad she¡¯s still watching and I miss her. I¡¯ll come visit when I can.¡±

    ¡°Me too,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°I mean I¡¯ll come visit someday. I promise.¡±

    Socks lifted Biandina to a standing position with his mind, helping her balance on her one leg so she could give Antelmu a proper hug goodbye. She and her brother embraced tightly, with Biandina releasing first. A look of anxiety on her face made Dirt think she was simply eager to face the coming terror and get it over with.

    ¡°Anything I should know?¡± she asked, motioning for Dirt to come give her a hug as well.

    He did, and answered, ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s gonna hurt when you hit the ground. You¡¯ll probably be dizzy and feel like you might be dying, but it¡¯ll pass. So don¡¯t be scared. Just wait for a moment and you¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°Anything else?¡± she said, gritting her teeth.

    ¡°You can ask them for anything you need. You¡¯ll never be hungry or thirsty again.¡±

    ¡°You said you wanted to send me to the forest to see about my arm, but I guess now they want me? Do you know why they want me?¡±

    ¡°I really can¡¯t say. They don¡¯t quite understand pain, or sadness, or anything like that. But they don¡¯t wish you any harm. Anything that seems weird or unpleasant is probably for your own good. They might be curious to see if they can grow a new arm. They might just want a little collection of humans to watch so they can understand us better,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Honestly, you¡¯re making them sound a little scary,¡± said Biandina.

    ¡°Oh, they are, but they¡¯re also sweet and magnificent and honest and patient. They¡¯re the ones who gave me magic, although I don¡¯t recommend that. But I was broken in a lot of ways and they put me back together. I love them. They¡¯re my best friends next to Socks,¡± said Dirt.

    -Are you done saying goodbye?- asked Maxima.

    ¡°One last thing, Great One,¡± said Biandina. She motioned for Socks to lean in and patted him on the nose, then her head against his muzzle for a moment. ¡°Thanks for everything.¡±

    -I will remember you, if we don¡¯t meet again. It was fun,- said Socks. He sniffed her and looked up at Maxima, then stepped back to give her room.

    The great wolf said, -Hold that sword, if you want to take it with you. You will be bringing nothing else.-

    With Socks¡¯s help, Biandina bent down and picked it up. She held it by the hilt and rested the blade against her shoulder.

    Maxima took her from Socks¡¯s mental grasp, as evidenced by a sudden jerk to the left that startled her a little. The great wolf put Biandina on the dry yellow grass at the edge of the palace entrance and made her sit.

    Dirt turned his mental gaze toward his mana body just in time to see half a connection spring into being. Maxima¡¯s immense mind reached across an impossible distance to tie her magic to that of the trees, or so Dirt assumed. The sigils he imagined were simple and few in number, but the sheer magnitude of the power she exercised seared his perception, blinding it, giving him a scalding ache deeper than physical perception.

    From one moment to the next, Biandina was there, and then she was gone, leaving a pile of ragged, bloody, empty clothes.

    The great wolf lifted her head to peek over the rim of the cavern, then sighed loudly and shook with a hint of weariness. -She arrived safely. Now it is time for you to leave,- said Maxima. -I know I promised you that you could kill the rest, but the Devourer will be curious what just happened and may come looking.-

    She leaned down and Socks licked her muzzle affectionately and they jawed at each other¡¯s mouths playfully for a moment. Then they nuzzled their faces against each other, rubbing thoroughly to make sure the scent was properly shared.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Socks said, -It was good to meet you, sister. And you, brother. I will come again when I am grown.-

    -BE WELL, PUP. GO DESTROY SOMETHING,- said a voice Dirt hadn¡¯t heard before.

    -Yes, brother. Good bye.- And with that, he snatched Antelmu and Dirt from where they were standing, put Antelmu¡¯s new spear next to Dirt¡¯s wooden staff in his holster, and leaped up out of the crevice.

    Socks sprinted across the thin snow and grass with such obvious pleasure that Dirt wondered what he and Maxima had been up to the whole time. The pup¡¯s mind was full of eager relief and a sense of lightness that Dirt hardly recognized.

    Before he could ask, Socks sensed the question and explained, -My brother and sister thought my mana wasn¡¯t growing like it should, since I have been relying more on cleverness and trickery for magic like a human. Most wolves my age prefer brute force, and it helps us grow. So she used her mana to press on mine the entire time to force me to grow. Then she said she would bite me if I showed signs of weariness.-

    ¡°Did she?¡±

    -No.-

    ¡°Did it help, then? I guess it worked?¡±

    Socks filled himself with mana, so much that Dirt could feel it tingling through the pup¡¯s fur and into his fingers. It was indeed more than Dirt had ever seen him old, and his voice was full of self-pride when he answered, -I think it did. That is more than before. But I will have to keep working on it.-

    ¡°Me too. Let¡¯s think of a game that we can play that exercises it,¡± said Dirt.

    -Yes. But mostly I will practice by doing things like this.- said Socks. He skidded to a stop, digging his claws into the ground and leaving long furrows a foot deep. He growled loudly and the earth rumbled in reply, and Dirt and a very startled Antelmu watched the ground rip open, sending a violent eruption of sand and stone a hundred paces into the air. It rained heavy and deadly upon to the ground, except for under the mental shield Socks put in place.

    -Watch closer,- said the pup.

    ¡°What was that?¡± yelled Antelmu, clinging tighter to Dirt¡¯s shirt.

    Before getting an answer, Dirt watched with his mana body to see a very simple magical operation appear, one which simply demanded sudden motion. It was fueled by every drop of mana the pup could hold, and the explosion it made when it sent boulders the size of houses flying everywhere shook his guts.

    ¡°Run!¡± screamed Antelmu, filling with wild panic.

    ¡°No, that was Socks! Hold on, it¡¯s okay!¡± said Dirt.

    -That was me. I am sorry I didn¡¯t warn you.-

    ¡°Can you give me ten seconds to recover first!?¡± shouted Antelmu, his voice cracking from extreme stress. ¡°I¡¯ve had a hard day!¡±

    Dirt and Socks had been so excited to get moving again that neither of them had paid the poor boy any mind at all, and it turned out he was completely miserable. He missed his sister already, tortured by grief as if she¡¯d died. His nice fur coat was ruined, stained and stinking from the beast¡¯s poison, and the hole its spike had made let the cold air in.

    Socks lowered his head apologetically and said, -You should find some wood and make him a brace before Sister lets go of his bones.-

    ¡°Oh, right!¡± said Dirt aloud. He jumped right off Socks¡¯s back and sheepishly made his way over to some nearby bushes, which he kicked and waved through until he found some hard, thicker branches. He sliced one off with his knife and ran back.

    It wasn¡¯t much work from there. Dirt simply had to grow it around the boy¡¯s wrist and make sure it was tight and comfortable. The magic for that felt rather mundane after what he¡¯d seen earlier. Just a tiny trickle compared to a whole river.

    Once Antelmu¡¯s brace was in place, he gave a little gasp as the pain returned. Maxima had released her hold on his bones, and now they were going to ache until they healed back together. Even with the brace, he¡¯d be better off not using his arm much until it started knitting back together.

    When Socks got moving again, it was with far less enthusiasm than before. -He is going to get lonely if we only ever talk to each other, and not him.-

    Dirt agreed. ¡°Should I start always talking with my mouth, then? You¡¯ll have to keep the shield in front when you run.¡±

    -Maybe. We should think of something to do that will make him happy again. And we will talk to him a lot so he doesn¡¯t get lonely,- said Socks.

    They had little to say for the next while, even to each other. The day was cold and long, and the landscape had somehow transformed itself into dreary wilderness, mostly because of Antelmu. The most pitiable thing about it was how he kept trying to cheer himself up, remembering his wondrous new spear, or all the gold in his pack. And Biandina¡¯s pack, for that matter, which Socks still carried. The fact that they¡¯d killed that Man-eater creature.

    But his thoughts kept sliding back to grief, and his bones hurt, and he kept getting cold air into his coat. And he had no idea where they were going, and his tribe was already saved, and did he really want to go home?

    Socks finally slowed to a stop, after what must have been hours of running. Heat radiated from his coat and each of his panting breaths turned to fog in the air. He lifted his head to peek at Antelmu with one yellow eye and said, -Dirt can see your thoughts just like I can. We didn¡¯t tell you because we didn¡¯t know how anyone would react. So it is a secret that only you may have. Do not tell anyone. But from now on, you can talk with us by thinking, if we are paying attention.-

    ¡°Really?¡± said Antelmu. The idea drew him out of his reverie. ¡°You can¡­¡± he started with his mouth, but finished with his mind, a wobbly sentence of ill-formed words. He¡¯d need practice. ¡°You can hear this?¡±

    ¡°Yep!¡± said Dirt. ¡°Does that scare you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s so weird! He¡¯s¡­!¡± cried Antelmu. The novelty gave him sparks and he perked up. ¡°How do you learn how to do that?¡±

    -One thing at a time, little human. Not even Dirt learned it his first day. Practice thinking first.-

    ¡°Okay,¡± thought Antelmu, loudly, practically screaming. Dirt grinned to himself, since that¡¯s what he¡¯d done at first, too. ¡°So where are we going now?¡±

    Socks replied, -There is a place Father said has something for Dirt. We were supposed to go there second, but it wasn¡¯t the closest, so we are going there now.-

    ¡°What is it?¡± thought Antelmu.

    -We don¡¯t know.-

    After that, the journey was much more pleasant. Antelmu still had the random tinge of heartache, but the distraction of playing thinking games overcame anything deeper. To Socks and Dirt¡¯s pleasure, the boy had a big imagination and could picture things clearly if he focused, as clear as a dream. He¡¯d heard a thousand stories, each containing ideas Socks and Dirt had never thought before. A flying horse, a sheep that brewed beer, a snake that could smell gold and bit people so they died.

    Once they left Mors and Maxima¡¯s territory, the earth leveled out again into a long, flat plain, windy and cold and almost completely bare of snow. Socks wasn¡¯t pleased about it, since it would surely be boring, and Dirt had to agree. That night they slept in a hollow that Socks dug out by exploding the ground in a long furrow, and it kept them out of the wind.

    The second day was much like the first, except that Antelmu¡¯s thoughts were already growing more disciplined. His ideas were clearer and losing their clutter, and he was getting better about not thinking about certain things, like all the stories he knew about humans mating with each other. Those he hid away with a sense of shyness, or maybe guilt at being discovered, as if he wasn¡¯t supposed to know them in the first place. It was one thing to hint at a bawdy tale expecting a child not to understand, and quite another to be certain that no detail would be missed.

    That night, Apkallu visited them in the dream, and instead of watching from a distance, stood amongst them and made every detail of the dream vivid and powerful. Even Antelmu became fully aware he was dreaming and laughed at the joy of being able to summon up anything he wanted. The fairy crafted wonders for them, impossibilities in dazzling variety. More recognizable things, too, like all the savory roasted meat they could eat. He laughed and called them friends, but never used the name Avitus, and neither did Dirt call him Apkallu.

    The next day, the frozen misty fog cleared to show the landscape descending on a long, slow decline that gave them a view of a surprisingly distant horizon. -We should be getting close, so keep watch for whatever it is we¡¯re here to see,- said Socks, and that was enough to get both boys to keep their human eyes peeled.

    Antelmu spotted it first, which annoyed Dirt, but he¡¯d been hunting on the plains for longer than Dirt had been alive and sometimes there was no overcoming experience. He saw it when it was just a speck of off-white against the snow, and Dirt couldn¡¯t quite make it out until they got a lot closer.

    A tower of shining marble stood resolute upon a flat rock half the size of a village, incongruous with the landscape. The tower was square with an open cupola on top supported by pillars, and windows all the way up its length. It reminded Dirt of a lighthouse, but he couldn¡¯t remember what a lighthouse was.

    It was taller than the Square Tower, but only if they counted the long spike atop the cupola. It wasn¡¯t as broad, though, and would only house hundreds of people, not thousands. The architecture included plenty of ornamentation in a style he recognized. Even the tower itself itched at his memory, bothering him because it seemed like he should know what it was. It was for him, after all.

    When they came within a hundred paces, the carvings came into view, highlighted by shadows from the morning sun. They depicted dozens of horses in reins, pulling something on the other side. ¡°Go around it! This is the back. Let¡¯s see the front!¡± said Dirt excitedly. Socks ran straight toward it, though, and passed along the rock it was build on, which was as tall as the tips of his ears.

    The chariot on the front carried a god in flowing robes with one perfect, muscular arm holding aloft a round flame. The Sun and his chariot! Of course. Dirt shouted aloud, ¡°The Turris Solis! That means tower of the sun in your language.¡± He did indeed recognize this place, now that he saw it from the right angle.

    He¡¯d been here, and warmly received, when he was Avitus. Even now he remembered that old sense of eagerness, of the friendly faces he expected at the door.

    And the door still remained, a monstrous wooden one plated with bronze in carvings so complicated they belonged on a tomb or a palace, not an¡­ Not whatever this place was. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure. He knew the name, though, and recognized it, and that was enough to thrill him.

    Dirt couldn¡¯t wait and jumped down off Sock¡¯s back, then up onto the rocky plateau in a single, mana-infused bound. The paved walkway was all grown over now, but Dirt suspected it would still be there to uncover if he felt like digging. The dirt came up a foot deep at the door, too, and would have to be cleared away to make it usable again.

    The knocker, though, that was something he couldn¡¯t resist. A large circle of braided rope held in the mouth of a lion, and it was still there! Dirt gentle nudged it, and grinned when it moved. He pulled back and gave a resounding, clanging knock, then another.

    ¡°Coming, coming,¡± said a voice inside, in his language. No mind accompanied it. Footsteps approached the door.

 STUB NOTICE

    Sorry for the late notice, but I kinda forgot I needed to warn people. I am bad at this!

    Ancient Things, Book 1 of the Land of Broken Roads, will be stubbed on Jan 06, 2025 to prepare for publication at the beginning of February. Pass the word around and let anyone know who''s been on the fence about reading it, so they get a chance while it''s still free.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Again: Book 1 is stubbing on January 6th, 2025.

    Check the main page to see the new cover art.

 Volume IV - Chapter 13

    The door didn¡¯t open easily. It had been closed for uncounted years, long enough for windblown dirt to bury the bottom portion so seamlessly the tower looked like it was built that way.

    Whoever was on the other side yanked and pulled, causing the door to tremble and shake. Dirt readied his knife and waited, since a thing that moved and talked with no mind was almost certainly something he¡¯d need to destroy, but the tone of pleasant inoffensiveness in the male voice calmed his fear somewhat.

    Finally, after long enough Dirt considered helping push it open, it swung inward. The sunlight fell on a thin figure in rags, male but short for an adult, who looked rather like a corpse until he smiled.

    At that point the skin on the bottom half of his face simply came loose and slipped off, drooping under his chin of age-blackened bone. He lifted it back into place with one bony hand, hardened lengths of flesh hanging from the joint at the elbow, where they were fastened on somehow.

    Dirt shoved him hard with his mind, sending the skeletal figure tumbling head over heels into the room, and sliding Dirt backwards three steps back over the frozen soil. He hesitated to do anything more powerful, though, at least not yet. Father¡¯s promise that there was something for him here itched in the back of his mind.

    ¡°Pardon my appearance,¡± said the voice. It was mild and obsequious. Dirt lowered his knife, still wary. ¡°The water is out and I cannot bathe.¡± There was a pause, then the tone of the voice shifted to something a bit sterner. ¡°Please do not damage me; I am the Master¡¯s property and harm done to me will be considered vandalism.¡±

    Socks leaped up to crowd the landing in front of the door, lowering his head to peek right over Dirt. Antelmu tried to climb up, but it was too hard with one good hand unless he dropped his spear, and he wasn¡¯t willing. Socks picked him up and set him nearby.

    ¡°If you would like to come inside, I will fetch the Master,¡± said the dead thing. It stepped back into the sunlight, strips of flesh drooping off most of its skeleton and flopping like ribbons. Just enough of its flesh remained in place to act as tendons and allow it to move. For clothing it had nothing but the ancient remains of a simple robe with a crimson belt dangling from one shoulder. The face was so distorted and ruined it was impossible to tell how old it was supposed to look.

    Dirt said, ¡°Who are you?¡±

    The thing¡¯s mouth didn¡¯t move as it spoke. The words were coming from its face, but not in the expected way. ¡°Please simply call me Servant. I was crafted by Caesius Sornatius Vala, with consultation from Avitus Numitorius Urbanus and the Collegium Magorum. More patterned after myself will soon be available for purchase by the discerning Patron.¡±

    ¡°Did I hear that right?¡± said Dirt.

    Socks said, -It does not smell like rotting flesh. What is it?-

    ¡°He said my name. I made this person? Or helped? And I think I recognize that other name, Caesius. Except I think I called him Caeso.¡±

    ¡°What is he saying?¡± whispered Antelmu.

    ¡°It¡¯s my language,¡± whispered Dirt in reply. ¡°He said to call him Servant, and in your language that means servitore.¡±

    ¡°So do I call it famulus or servitore?¡± asked Antelmu.

    The skeletal man ignored their chatter and said, ¡°If you would like to come inside, I will fetch the Master. Children are only allowed if accompanied by a slave, a tutor, or a family member. The Master has instructed me to welcome anyone who arrives, without restriction or prejudice. I apologize, but you will have to leave your dog outside; the Master cannot abide animals near his instruments. Shall I fetch him a cake to chew on? I apologize, but I cannot offer any food. Our deliveries have been delayed,¡± recited the bizarre corpse. Every sentence out of his mouth sounded disjointed from the previous one, as if he was given a list of things to say and was simply reading them as appropriate.

    Dirt gave him a closer look and grew less and less sure he could even tell what Servant was even made of. It looked like flesh, but not quite. But also not wood, or metal, or cloth, or hide, or anything that Dirt could recognize.

    ¡°I assure you I am harmless. Please simply call me Servant. If you would like to come inside, I will fetch the Master,¡± said Servant, his voice inflecting in the exact same ways as before. He swung his arm to beckon them inward, giving a polite bow.

    -I smell blood in there, but it is faint,- said Socks.

    ¡°What kind?¡± whispered Antelmu.

    -It is too faint to tell. But it can¡¯t be ancient or I would smell nothing.-

    ¡°So are you going inside?¡± asked Antelmu, by thinking louder than necessary. He was still learning.

    ¡°I think I have to, until I see what Father meant when he said there¡¯s something for me here. Hopefully it¡¯s not a gruesome death and he was making a joke,¡± thought Dirt in reply.

    -I am looking with ghost sight, and I see many strange little fiddly human things in there, and lots of scrolls. At the top there is an empty bed, the stairs go down twice, and at the bottom behind a door there is a stone coffin with a corpse in it. I don¡¯t see anything dangerous except for Servant,- said Socks.

    ¡°Okay. Well, I¡¯m going in then. Warn me if you see anything moving that shouldn¡¯t be,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Do you want me to come?¡± asked Antelmu, thinking loudly again.

    -You can¡¯t fight until your wrist bones grow back together. Wait out here with me until Dirt says it is safe,- said Socks.

    That was what Antelmu had been hoping, although he didn¡¯t want to admit it. Not that he could hide it, when inviting Dirt and Socks to see his thoughts. But to him, the moving corpse looked like a decaying puppet, not a corpse, and once Dirt knew what he meant, he began to agree. What bothered Antelmu was that it was moving by itself.

    -I asked Father if there is something dangerous in there and he will not tell me. Be careful, little Dirt. I do not trust this creature or this place.-

    ¡°Well, if Father wants to test me, then I will succeed and learn or I will die. But I won¡¯t run away. I bet there¡¯s nothing dangerous, though. Not in the Turris Solis. It wasn¡¯t a¡­ well, never mind. I don¡¯t remember,¡± said Dirt.

    He put his knife back in the sheath and straightened his attire. Then he stepped in through the doorway, every sense on edge, just in case. Servant stepped around him to close the door, and Dirt backed away to keep the puppet-corpse in his sight at all times.

    The interior fell into complete darkness as the door clanged shut. All those windows had been filled in, apparently, and allowed no light in. Dirt¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he summoned a light to circle overhead, and thank Grace, Servant wasn¡¯t lunging for him with claws out once Dirt could see again.

    It looked like the inside of a tomb. Clean, no dust anywhere, the air old and still. Everything silent, untouched for ages uncountable. At least that¡¯s how it felt. A dead place. Dark as death during the brightness of the day.

    Despite all that, he was certain that he had been here when he was Avitus. It wasn¡¯t as familiar as his handsome little villa, so he hadn¡¯t been here often, but he recognized it all the same. The entry room of the Turris was as wide as the tower itself, probably fifteen paces across. A fine wooden desk sat near the door, with a cabinet for travel attire that stood empty. Beyond that, displays were arranged around the room with pleasing regularity, each bearing something curious. Nostalgia gripped him, bringing him back thousands of years in time, when he had gazed upon this same scene with a sense of eager wonder. What delightful curiosities!

    Dirt hurried over to the first one and saw a contraption of brass gears, impressively regular. A handle on a pull-chain said ¡®TRAH¡¯ so Dirt pulled it. The gears clicked and began turning, each in a different direction. As far as he could tell, its sole purpose was to make a regular clicking sound.

    He moved to the next, a display of puppet joints, which begged to be played with, so he did. Thankfully, it was made with metal filaments instead of regular string, which would certainly be too fragile to use by now. But the metal threads worked, and Dirt pulled here and there to make a knee bend or a hand flex, and not for the first time. He¡¯d been here before, in this exact spot.

    ¡°I will let the Master know you are here. Please, entertain yourself with any of the displays,¡± said Servant. He made a swishing sound as he plodded across the mosaic floor and down a flight of steps. Dirt figured that the Master was probably the dead person in the coffin, and Servant would be back soon with an excuse.

    Caeso had always been a genius with his contraptions, thought Avitus fondly. How pleased he would be to know they¡¯d survived him for so long. Perhaps that was the man himself interred down there, not one of his descendants or students. Not likely, but perhaps. If so, Avitus would have to pay his respects.

    He looked down at the display with all the joints on it until he found the brass placard that named it. DE INTERIORIBUS OPERIBUS HOMUNCULI, it said. Of the interior workings of a little man.

    Avitus fluttered a hand to shoo away his foolishness, almost laughing. Of course! Not a corpse or a puppet at all, but a homunculus. How far that art had progressed, and he¡¯d completely forgotten about it. Now that he recognized Servant as a marvel, he eagerly awaited his return.

    He moved from display to display, and as he did, more of it came back to him. A thing grown, not made, but not quite alive. A thousand spells to act on every conceivable part of its anatomy, and a thousand more to give it a semblance of awareness and understanding.

    This display showed a magnified view of a partial spell carved into a piece of bone, depicting how small and fine they were. That display showed the initial alchemical components, likely for the bones, but deliberately neglected to show the process by which they were transformed. Over here, a list of the things a homunculus might need to say, and the magical operation that helped it recognize the appropriate situations.

    Avitus made his way around the room and glanced down the stairs. Of course it was black as the inside of a stone down there; the basement had no windows to begin with. That made him wonder how Servant saw, or if he did at all?This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Well, however his vision worked, he was taking his time. Avitus took the opportunity to look under all the cushions and was rewarded with a copper coin, green and unrecognizable now. Probably a half-silver, enough for a plate of steaming lamb at Clavii caupona when he went back to Turicum. Now there was a thought! How long had it been?

    -You are thinking like an old man again,- said Socks, amusement in his voice.

    Dirt scowled. ¡°Maybe a little bit. But can you blame me? I¡¯ve been here! I know all this stuff. Were you watching my thoughts, or do you want me to explain?¡±

    -I was watching, of course. The homunculus is in the basement staring at the coffin. He might be talking to it, but I can¡¯t hear.-

    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll keep looking around. He¡¯ll probably come back and tell me the Master is sleeping or something, and ask me if I want to wait.¡± Then he widened his mental speech to include the other boy and said, ¡°Antelmu, it¡¯s probably safe in here if you want to come see.¡±

    Dirt was halfway up the staircase before the other boy stepped in, timid and wary. Dirt brightened one of his lights and left it down there so Antelmu could see, then waved and gestured at the displays.

    Then he went upstairs and found a more relaxed lounge area, with couches in the middle and diamond-shaped scroll shelves lining the walls, the majority of them occupied. The room was all still dark, of course, with the windows covered.

    Covered with what, it occurred to him to wonder? Sunlight would be better for reading. Now that he actually looked at them, the window well was full of stacked rocks held together by cheap mud mortar, if anything at all. Some places the holes were stuffed with grasses, big tufts of them, which decayed and fell to the floor and got replaced as necessary. In fact, the floor under the windows was the only place that was dirty at all, or even dusty, and it wasn¡¯t bad enough Dirt would have noticed if he wasn¡¯t looking.

    Dirt went over to the wall and started pulling rocks from the window, and soon enough the upper half of the stack collapsed. Some fell outward and clacked against the closed shutters, but most tumbled inside and clattered across the floor.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± shouted Antelmu from below.

    ¡°Yeah, just opened a window,¡± he shouted back.

    He pulled the rest of the rocks off the windowsill, making a lot of noise and a huge mess, and found that the wooden shutters were a lot newer than he expected. They weren¡¯t thousands of years old and preserved by total isolation from the elements, like everything inside was. They had none of that ancient fragility he¡¯d experienced. How could they be any newer, though? And they were even stained and lacquered, crafted so perfectly they had a tight seam on all edges. Not perfectly enough to keep the light out, apparently, but better-than-expected nonetheless.

    Oh well. He pushed them open and they creaked and groaned and finally swung outward, flooding the room with sunlight. He leaned halfway out the window, balancing on his stomach, and waved to Socks. The pup stood and rose on his hind legs to give Dirt a lick on the face. Dirt moved back and Socks stuck his snout into the window to peer inside himself. It didn¡¯t quite fit, though, so he had to turn his head and peek in with one eye instead.

    -I bet you will want to read every one of those,- said Socks.

    ¡°Yep! But first, only the ones that are magically preserved. I think the rest, it¡¯ll be dangerous to open them unless I¡¯m ready to start copying. If one got ruined, I¡¯d cry,¡± said Dirt. He looked around the room. There were almost as many scrolls here as in the library at Prisca¡¯s schola. ¡°I wish I had someone who could help with that.¡±

    -Find someone with fingers. I will not help you.-

    ¡°You would get bored and give up after six inches of scroll,¡± said Dirt.

    -I would also change some of the words as a joke, and you would never know.-

    Dirt glared at him, but then broke into a grin. ¡°Well, now I¡¯m curious what you¡¯d change.¡±

    -You would never know.-

    Socks lowered himself and Dirt heard him pulling open shutters on the first floor with his mind, then knocking over the rocks filling the window. It was remarkable how much light that let in, changing the staircase downward from a pool of murky darkness to just another room.

    Dirt let his lights all wink out and went to see what scrolls were here. He went through them one by one, checking the titles either from writing on the exterior, or by gently unrolling an inch or two. None of them were treatises on magic, and anything historical was focused on one person, like The Journal of Emperor Severus I, and The Life of Senator Decius. Many had no title at all, and the first sentences made Dirt suspect that they contained hasty notes, possibly written by his old friend Caeso during one of his fits of madness.

    One said, the susceptibility of leakage of light from the bone mercury was greater than expected after the addition of rotated blood and oil of roses I suspect impurities in the oils but it may be that roses contain more fire and less earth than I previously measured I am beyond perplexed by this obnoxious mixture why will it not simply behave.

    After that, it was blank for a few inches and Dirt put it down. At least half of them were like that, offensively wasteful. A whole scroll for a few lines of notes? Why not just write on sheets of paper and leave them in a stack? Surely, if he unrolled them, there would be more writing further down. But he didn¡¯t dare, since they were fragile enough already.

    He peered around and decided to check the rest of the scrolls later. The library here deserved a proper inventory at some point, and it should all be preserved for future generations to read. Maybe the Duke could recommend someone? He spoke a bit of Dirt¡¯s language, and mentioned there were others.

    Dirt wanted to read the biographies before they left, though, if they had time. But first, may as well see what else was in the tower. The ceilings were higher than in the Square Tower by quite a bit, but he¡¯d still counted four floors of windows and the gazebo on top.

    Up he went, and at the top of the next flight of stairs was a door, locked, with a keyhole and a latch. Now that was something he¡¯d never seen before. Locks, another thing he¡¯d forgotten existed. He created a tiny light and sent it in the keyhole, then peeked inside to see the little bits of metal that made it work. A mental push here and there, and he found the piece that unlocked it. A simple click, and that was that. He tugged the latch and the door swung inward.

    The next floor was clearly living quarters, with the space divided into several rooms. A lounge near the stairwells made a nice sitting area, complete with chairs and couches and end tables to rest things on. One table had two tarnished silver cups, and another a stack of papers. One room had a bed and a cabinet full of clothing, all in his people¡¯s style, but cut for adults. Robes, ribbons, cloaks, undergarments. Everything a man would need.

    Another door revealed a washroom, with a pump system to drive fresh water up from a well or cistern somewhere below. Dirt cranked the pump a few times, but all it did was squeak.

    The last door had a kitchen, complete with a small oven that vented out the window. The pipe had been rotated inward when the window had been closed up, and whatever food might have been here had decayed without leaving any trace.

    The final floor, last before the exit to the gazebo on the roof, was a study. Sheets of paper and half-rolled scrolls lay strewn about the room, dangling over the arms of chairs or sitting stacked on several desks. Bottles of glass, metal, and ceramic filled shelves, each marked to show its contents, and between them were more papers. Inkwell and pens, too, at least a dozen of them. Strange bits of metal, like gears or tangled wires, were strewn about the midst of the chaotic mess, as were lengths of wood and the random potshard. He could hardly walk in without stepping on anything.

    One cabinet held papers in rectangular dividers, and Dirt saw a glint of brass so he carefully made his way there first. Each step, he had to gently nudge something out of the way to make room for his foot, and it didn¡¯t look like the previous occupant had spared the trouble. Most of the stuff on the ground had footprints on it. It wasn¡¯t durable enough to step on now, though, and even pushing it a little tore the edges.

    The brass on the cabinet was labels, as he¡¯d hoped. It contained letters, hundreds of them, some on rolled paper and some flat. The labels were scrawled with a good hand, but only gave the person¡¯s praenomen. GAIUS K, NONUS S, AGRIPPA, VOLESUS, NONUS C, and so on. The names were in no particular order, but Dirt knew which one he was looking for. He scanned them all until he found it.

    AVITUS N. His name. The cubby was stuffed with papers, and the one next to it had no label and was almost full itself. He pulled out the top sheet and recognized his own handwriting.

    Caeso, dear friend, I write to you in admiration of your recent accomplishment. Do not be so upset that it was not as total as you had hoped. Replicating something as durable and flexible as the material you sent me is already enough for your name to be spoken by everyone from the meanest slave to the most refined Domina. If you were to turn aside from your goal now and mass-produce the stuff, you would be rich enough in a year to build yourself ten more towers. I would very much like a cloak made of it, and some shoes. The fact that it does not contract like muscle only means that you have found the skin for your homunculus, not its interior parts.

    Research, as you do not need me to tell you, is often like that. We discover only when we explore. You thought you were crafting and calculating and devising, but that is not the whole truth. You have been exploring, with the same spirit of our own ancient mariners or the twins who found the Prosperous Valley. That long nose of yours points ever toward a farther horizon, and the eyes that see over it must, of necessity, see farther than those of others.

    I have no doubt that by the time this letter reaches you, whatever fugue of depression colored your letter to me will have dissipated, and you will be eager to share something new. Rejoice in your variability, my friend, and remember it when you are low. I and many others rejoice with you, in sincere admiration of your many abilities.

    Dirt smiled to himself. If this was how Avitus wrote to his friends, Dirt wondered if he should be teasing Socks more. Probably. If even Father called the pup a rascal, he deserved it. He continued,

    I turn now to some of what I have been doing. We have spoken long about my many projects¡ªindeed, I begin to think I must visit you again, perhaps next year¡ªand I am pleased to report no progress on any of them.

    I simply cannot make anything larger than a scroll permanent, and if I place a cutting enchantment on a blade, it cannot hold a stability one at the same time. The whole thing shatters. I have also failed to figure out how to make an enchantment draw in its own mana, like the Precursors seem to have done. I am so frustrated that my servants have to bat my hands with a stick to keep me from pulling my hair out.

    However, I find lately that my mind is turning from these pursuits to something even more impactful. Some have mocked me for an excess of piety¡ªalthough never you, dear Caeso, which is one reason I adore you so¡ªand perhaps they are right. Can a man honor the gods too much? Perhaps. And yet I cannot cease from pondering about them. What does it mean to be perfect?

    In all their interactions with those who honor them and show piety, and do not shame themselves before the people with base behavior, are they not gracious and bounteous? Yet even the most blessed oracles speak with them only across great difficulty. The gods hold the reins to steer the world, but so seldom manifest in it. Lucina may inhabit a rabbit and light the way for a lost traveller, or Melodia a lyre and grant a song none can forget. Caelpater became a bull to trample the wine fields of Meraror. Some even appear in human form, but never as their full selves, resplendent in glory.

    We can act on every material, and even ward against unwholesome spirits, or daemons, or dream-eaters and kidnappers. More and more of the world falls under the control of the wise, with new sigils discovered almost monthly. I have attached a few documents to this letter to that effect. Read them well.

    But one thing remains beyond us, and that is the domain of divinity. Upon it we cannot act, and its laws are beyond our knowing. Are we not fashioned after the form of the gods? Is there not some spark of them to be found in our composition? If not, we would not have such affinity with them that they respect our piety. They do not ask the goats to pray or the birds to give sacrifice. Only men.

    I am searching for the sigil to act upon the divine, dear Caeso. Not to bind them, but to serve them. Call me a fool if you wish, and laugh, and I will not begrudge you. I am a fool and deserve to be mocked. And yet I persist. Here is my aim: I will not cease until I have opened the way for the gods to manifest fully in the world. I believe it can be done. Perhaps one morning you will wake to discover that everything has changed.

    I miss you dearly and think of you often, old friend. I shall send another letter a few days behind this one, discussing more mundane matters. That will give you something to look forward to.

    A.

    Dirt stared at the words, unable to read them a second time. This was it. This is what he¡¯d done. How and why he¡¯d broken the world. Somehow knowing more made it worse, not better. What had he been thinking? Magic on the gods themselves? Or something like that. Maybe on their realm, or on his own. Regardless, guilt and horror made him feel wretched. He was facing a sin for which he hadn¡¯t suffered enough. Three thousand years tortured in the void could never pay this price.

    ¡°Please come downstairs,¡± said Servant. ¡°The Master does not permit anyone in his personal quarters, except by invitation. The Master is resting, and will greet you after nightfall. Can I offer you refreshment? I apologize, but I cannot offer any food. Our deliveries have been delayed.¡±

    Antelmu peeked in from behind the decaying homunculus. ¡°Find anything interesting?¡± he asked.

 Volume IV - Chapter 14

    ¡°Just some old writing,¡± said Dirt. He looked up at Antelmu and tried to put on a half-smile.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Antelmu. He snuck around Servant and picked up a sheet of paper from a desk. He didn¡¯t seem to notice Dirt¡¯s distress, which was fine with Dirt.

    ¡°Be careful with that, it¡¯s fragile,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Someone else might want to read it someday.¡±

    ¡°I know what that is,¡± said Antelmu, looking more closely at the ancient paper. Dirt was glad he¡¯d picked up something other than an Avitus letter. ¡°It¡¯s when you make these little marks, and they stand for words.¡±

    ¡°I know, I can read them,¡± said Dirt. ¡°These are all in my language.¡±

    ¡°What does this one say?¡± asked Antelmu, handing the paper over. He moved it too fast and the air pressure tore it in halves, which fell from his fingers. One landed on the floor, the other the desk.

    ¡°Really, please be careful with this. I want someone to copy it all to new paper someday so we can preserve it,¡± said Dirt. He felt sour inside, mostly from his lingering guilt.

    ¡°Okay, I will. So what¡¯s it say?¡±

    ¡°This one says,¡± said Dirt, squinting because the ink was cheap and fading. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s a shopping list. There must have been a town around here once. It says, duos panes, quattuor utres vini, caseum, oleum, garum, legumina, tria aromata, porcus, atramentum. In your language, that¡¯s two breads, four bottles of wine, cheese, oil, garum¡­ I guess you don¡¯t have a word for garum, do you? Vegetables, the three spices, pig, and ink.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s garum?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. And I don¡¯t know what three spices they meant, either. Or what pig is.¡±

    ¡°Why would you write these things down?¡± asked Antelmu, pushing the two halves of the paper back together on the desk¡¯s surface.

    ¡°A shopping list?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Dirt looked crossly at the boy, but he was sincere. He wasn¡¯t teasing; he genuinely didn¡¯t know what a shopping list was for. Hopefully he wouldn¡¯t ask too many more questions, because Dirt was rapidly approaching the limits of his knowledge on the subject. He answered, ¡°Towns have places called markets, and you send your servants there to buy the things you need for the day. This is the stuff they were supposed to get.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Weird. Only for one day?¡±

    ¡°I suppose. How did your tribe do it?¡±

    ¡°We store all our own goods. Each family does, I mean. And if we need to trade, we just go find someone to trade with. There¡¯s, well, I guess there¡¯s also the common store, and everyone puts shares in, and you get a piece of bone that, well, so, it¡¯s like this,¡± said Antelmu. He held his hands up and stuck the tips of his pointer fingers together. ¡°You take a bone, and you scratch it, and break it, and the Elder keeps half, and you keep half. Then when you want to get your shares out, you give back the bone to prove you had some in there.¡±

    ¡°How big is a share?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a lot. Enough to last around a month, usually. But if we store it together, then we can pack it in and preserve it better, and the rodents don¡¯t eat as much.¡±

    ¡°Please come downstairs,¡± said Servant, repeating what he¡¯d just said a moment before. ¡°The Master does not permit anyone in his personal quarters, except by invitation.¡±

    -Grab something and come read it to me,- said Socks. -Some of those scrolls on the second floor looked like stories and I want to hear a story.-

    Antelmu looked at Dirt, communicating that he¡¯d heard it too. ¡°You can write down a story?¡± he muttered, mostly to himself.

    Dirt swallowed a bit more of his lingering guilt and gently put the Avitus letter back where he¡¯d found it. Before leaving the study to check the lower floors for something to read, he spotted an ornate scroll on a little brass display. It had gold and pearl scroll rod caps. The title read ITER, which meant The Journey.

    He recognized the name, at least on an instinctual level. He didn¡¯t know what it contained, but it made sense that it would be expensive. This was decoration, he presumed. That didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t still readable. He flipped the clasp open and unrolled a few lines, and sure enough, the text was drawn with an exacting hand in good black ink.

    ¡°Please come downstairs,¡± said Servant, repeating what he¡¯d just said a moment before. ¡°The Master does not permit anyone in his personal quarters, except by invitation.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re coming. Come on, Antelmu. I¡¯ll read this one. I¡¯ll translate it for you,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Please put that back, or I am afraid the Master will report you for theft,¡± said Servant, stepping closer. Dirt noticed the homunculus¡¯ glass eyes didn¡¯t move. How did it see?

    ¡°I¡¯m just borrowing it. I¡¯m Caeso¡¯s friend.¡±

    ¡°What is your name?¡± asked Servant.

    ¡°Avitus Numitorius Urbanus,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°I recognize your name. How may I help you, Master Urbanus?¡±

    Dirt grinned. ¡°Just let me borrow this. I¡¯ll bring it back after I read it.¡±

    ¡°As you wish, Master Urbanus. The Master is resting, and will greet you after nightfall. Can I offer you refreshment? I apologize, but I cannot offer any food. Our deliveries have been delayed,¡± said Servant, returning to his previous obsequious mannerisms.

    ¡°Is the Master¡¯s name Caeso? Caesius Sornatius Vala?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Master¡¯s name is Caesius Sornatius Vala,¡± said Servant. ¡°I was crafted by Caesius Sornatius Vala, with consultation from Avitus Numitorius Urbanus and the Collegium Magorum. More patterned after myself will soon be available for purchase by the discerning Patron.¡±

    ¡°Just checking. And he¡¯ll come out after nightfall?¡±

    ¡°The Master is resting, and will greet you after nightfall,¡± said Servant.

    ¡°I doubt that, but we¡¯ll see. Thanks, I¡¯ll put this back when I¡¯m done,¡± said Dirt. He snuck around the decaying homunculus, careful not to brush against him, and headed out of the cluttered study and back down the stairs. Through the living quarters, down through the library, then down through the display room.

    Socks was standing right by the exit to sniff Dirt as he came out, since he had picked up a lot of interesting dust in the meantime, and Antelmu after that.

    The sun was bright overhead, and they had most of the day left. The cold was hardly noticeable because the air was perfectly still today, not a hint of wind. Dirt summoned a few warming embers anyway, since there was no point getting cold if he didn¡¯t have to, and sat down near the door of the Turris. Socks rolled to his side and stretched, taking up all the rest of the room, so Antelmu sat right next to Dirt.

    He unrolled the first twenty lines of the scroll and read silently first. It was a poem, he discovered, and he knew it like the inside of his eyelids. Well, not quite that well; but each line he read, he instantly remembered, as if memorized. Indeed, he read the first thirty lines before his memory even slowed down.

    It was like having a conversation with an old friend, someone he hadn¡¯t seen in ages but had suddenly graced the arch of his Villa. The rhythm of the poem¡¯s speech became a military march in his mind and the grand events it evoked swirled back into his memory.

    He read another thirty lines, then twenty more, before Antelmu poked him and said, ¡°Weren¡¯t you going to read this for us?¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°Oh, sorry. I¡¯ll translate it. But first, listen to this! Listen to how beautiful it is,¡± said Dirt. He recited the first ten lines, stressing the six steps in each line as the words flowed from his lips like water over stones.

    Then, with a sigh, he started over, translating. He couldn¡¯t go line by line; he had to go sentence by sentence, since all the words in Antelmu¡¯s language had to be said in a different order. In his language, the poem started with ¡°weapons,¡± but in Antelmu¡¯s, it started with ¡°I sing.¡± To complicate matters, some of the sentences were long, with words all over the place in a way that sounded good, but made translating difficult.

    Despite the difficulty, both Socks and Antelmu were captivated before long. The story told of a man named Felix, which was amusing, since the name meant ¡°successful,¡± and it started with him losing a war.

    Felix fled the destruction of his city with a few other soldiers, who remained his companions to the end. Domina Noctis, the queen of the gods, had it out for him and sent a long string of obstacles and curses his way. Storms, monsters, sickness, and so on.

    After the first hour of reading, Dirt knew he was stuck. Antelmu and Socks weren¡¯t exactly staring at him; Antelmu was picking apart stalks of dead grass, and Socks was doing something with pebbles that Dirt couldn¡¯t quite make out. It looked like he might be trying to turn them spherical, but it was hard to tell. Regardless, neither of them was bored. They were listening. And when Dirt stopped for a moment to drink some water, they both shot him concerned looks.

    Servant, in the meantime, had closed the door and started filling the windows back in with the rocks that Dirt had pulled down. The slow, steady clack-clack-clack sound accompanied his recitation for at least a third of the scroll.

    There was still plenty more to go. Felix¡¯s story didn¡¯t end when he made it to his destination. He wanted to start a new nation but his cities kept failing. The first one was destroyed by fire sent from the heavens, the second by a flood, the third by an earthquake. The fourth was invaded by a local king who didn¡¯t want to share, but Felix slew the king and the city stayed up. He named it Antiqus, despite it being new, and many centuries later, it became the capital of the Dawn Empire. And many centuries after that, the Sunset Empire.

    Once he heard it, Dirt recognized the name, and a few other things slid into place. His language had a name, but it was ¡°the Ancient Tongue¡±, exactly what the Duke had called it. His people were called ¡°the Ancients¡±, and both were named after the city. He¡¯d never quite put that all together before, in part because the Duke had translated the name instead of calling it lingua antiqua.

    The last third of the scroll was family drama, not all of which Dirt could translate properly, since it relied on relationships and ideas that Antelmu¡¯s language had no words for. He managed well enough, he hoped, and all of Felix¡¯s treacherous relatives died one by one, as well as his greedy eldest son. The story ended when Caelpater, ruler of the gods, announced that Felix had overcome more than any mortal should be required to, and his posterity would be protected from then on.

    Dirt had been speaking so long that once he stopped, his throat hurt and his voice was breathy and quiet and completely worn out, but he didn¡¯t regret doing it. It felt as much like being old Avitus as taking a warm bath had.

    All that translating had taken a lot of mental effort, too, and Dirt found himself completely worn out. The sun was only a fist¡¯s width above the far horizon, and night came early these days; but all the same, Dirt was done doing anything for the day. He was ready to continue sitting around. Well, after stretching his legs.

    He stood and walked down the long walkway that led off the rocky outcropping. Antelmu followed, yawning. The other boy¡¯s mind bubbled with questions, but he was tired as well and couldn¡¯t find the right place to start asking.

    -I left my harness by the door so you can get your things if you want them. After all that sitting, I want to run. I will be back shortly after nightfall.-

    ¡°Have fun,¡± replied Dirt. ¡°We¡¯ll be here.¡±

    Socks left with such sudden energy that his paws slid on the stone walkway at least twice before they found purchase and carried him away.

    Dirt stretched again, raising his hands above his head and groaning contentedly. Until Antelmu suddenly poked both his ribs to tickle him, causing him to collapse and bark out a laugh. But that aggravated Dirt¡¯s tired throat, which made him cough, and they dropped the game there, before Dirt got his revenge.

    He stood and brushed the yellow sand from his coat and said, ¡°I¡¯m gonna go put this back. I don¡¯t think I want to sleep in there, though, not with Servant wandering around and a dead body in the basement.¡±

    Antelmu said, ¡°I guess I¡¯ll take my bow and see if there¡¯s anything to hunt. I keep seeing birds down in those trees. Maybe we¡¯ll have fresh meat tonight.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll catch up.¡±

    ¡°Do it quietly.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    Dirt picked up the scroll, rolled it back neatly to the beginning, and stuck the clasp to hold it shut. Then he clanged on the door with the knocker.

    Antelmu was halfway off the rocky precipice before Servant reached the door. ¡°Coming, coming,¡± said the homunculus.

    The door opened much easier this time, although still not effortlessly. ¡°Pardon my appearance. The water is out and I cannot bathe. Welcome, Master Urbanus.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Servant. I¡¯m just here to put this back,¡± said Dirt, holding out the scroll.

    ¡°Please, come inside. The Master is resting and will greet you after nightfall. Can I offer you refreshment? I apologize, but I cannot offer any food. Our deliveries have been delayed,¡± said Servant. He had done some maintenance to himself, it appeared. The loose skin on the lower half of his face was held in place by a cloth now, somewhat like a veil. The flapping strands of flesh dangling from his arms and legs were also tied to his bones with lengths of string. It didn¡¯t look any better, or less corpse-like, but it was at least less likely to snag on something.

    ¡°No, thank you. I¡¯ll just put this back, and maybe go see the roof,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°As you wish,¡± said Servant. The homunculus stayed perfectly still until Dirt came inside, after which he shut the door. He retreated to a small nook in a corner, where Dirt presumed he spent centuries just standing, waiting for something to happen.

    It was dark again inside, so Dirt summoned a few lights. Now that he looked for them, he saw lanterns along the walls and atop some of the display stands, enough of them to brighten the room considerably once lit. That made him curious, so he checked one for fuel and found it empty. Which just made him more curious¡ªwhy had the lanterns under Ocriculum still had oil, but not these? Maybe Servant used it all up, lighting the room at predetermined hours until it was gone. The deliveries had been delayed, after all.

    The room seemed even more like a tomb than before. Having the windows rocked up was the finishing touch, but the things in here hadn¡¯t been disturbed for millenia. Most likely, anyway. Perhaps every few centuries, some daring traveler came by and knocked on the door. Would they even go in, once they saw the doorman? Not likely. Dirt suspected that if anyone got in here very often, everything shiny would already be gone. Just look at how Antelmu and Biandina had looted that palace.

    Back on the top floor, the study, Dirt put the scroll back on its decorative little display stand and made sure it was perfect. He picked it back up and polished his fingerprints off the gold and set it back down again just as carefully.

    How long was it going to sit here? One of the most important pieces of literature his people ever produced, and now it was little more than forgotten grave goods. The Duke might like to see it, and some of the King¡¯s scholars, if Dirt ever met those. But other than that? It was possible it would sit here for another thousand years, after all the humans were dead and gone, then another thousand, and another thousand, until some other race of beings crept in to claim the land. Perhaps just wolves, rotating their curious heads to look at all the little pieces after they knocked the Turris Solis down for fun.

    Dirt poked around the study for a bit longer, pointedly avoiding the rest of the Avitus letters. He could read those another time, if he dared. What else would they remind him of, and what were the chances the knowledge would make him happier instead of worse? What if they mentioned a mate he once had, and children, and then he had to spend the rest of his life missing people who¡¯d been gone three thousand years? The short memory of his father was precious, but Dirt wasn¡¯t ready for too much more yet.

    ¡°Master will see you now,¡± said Servant, from the doorway down to the next floor.

    ¡°What?¡± asked Dirt, confused.

    ¡°Master will see you now. Please follow me to the sitting room and Master will join you shortly,¡± said Servant, giving a polite bow and gesturing down the stairs.

    Dirt looked out with his mental sight, but saw nothing. Not the homunculus, of course, but nothing else either. A faint smudge that might be Antelmu, and some birds that were probably nesting in the roof, but that was it.

    Servant stood perfectly still until Dirt gave in and followed. Dirt wondered if the sitting room was in the living quarters, but it wasn¡¯t. They kept going down, through the library, through the display room on the main floor, and into the basement. At the bottom of the staircase was another door, heavy and ornate, but this one was already open.

    Socks had said there were two floors underground, and that looked right. The door opened to a lavishly decorated waiting room, colder, and with a faint musty odor. One window in the far wall had been filled in like all the others, and lamps circled the room, but had no oil. The furniture was all red and gold, with every table and chair leg carved and every flat surface embellished. There was even a mosaic showing fishermen on a boat casting a net into rough water. Boats. That was new.

    ¡°Please sit wherever you like,¡± said Servant.

    Dirt wondered how long he¡¯d be expected to go along with this farce, but what could it hurt, at least until Socks or Antelmu came back? He sat on a chair, slowly, to make sure it wouldn¡¯t turn to dust and collapse under him. It didn¡¯t.

    Servant glided down the stairs, his hard feet making little clacking sounds on the stone. It was all stone down here, too, not wood.

    Dirt waited. He heard Servant say, ¡°Master, your friend Avitus is waiting in the sitting room.¡±

    Dirt froze, listening as hard as he could, even though he was certain there¡¯d be no reply.

    But there was. A man¡¯s quiet voice said, ¡°I doubt that, you wretched thing.¡±

    Dirt¡¯s heart leaped into his throat. His brain flashed white from terror.

    ¡°I apologize for causing dismay, Master. I seek only to serve,¡± said Servant.

    ¡°You look abominable. What year is it?¡± asked the man. His voice was smooth and rich, musical, but something about it made Dirt¡¯s clear little arm hairs all stand up and try to run away.

    ¡°It is the year 3822, Master,¡± said Servant.

    ¡°Are you sure? You didn¡¯t lose track?¡±

    The homunculus didn¡¯t reply.

    Dirt eyed the stairs up and thought of fleeing. Would he have enough time before that thing came up?

    ¡°Well, whoever it is, he smells fresh, and that is lovely. I am getting thirsty.¡± The tower echoed with a series of booms as all the doors slammed shut.

 Volume IV - Chapter 15

    Dirt glanced at the door and decided his best chance lay in preventing harm by resisting it, not escaping. There was no telling what had compelled the door to close, or how hard it would be to open. Indeed, the blocked window might be a better point of escape. He had only enough time to glance around the room a few times before the man came into view, ascending the stairs with eager steps.

    The moving corpse looked very much alive, although his skin was perhaps too pale to be convincing. Other than that, his black hair was smooth with a bit of oil and combed neatly, as were his pointed beard and mustache, under which the visible part of his lips looked rather blue. He wore a long black-and-silver tunic that reached to his knees, with a buttoned collar and embroidery down the middle. His pants were tight cloth that hugged the shape of his calves, and his shoes were handsome leather with pointed toes.

    ¡°A child?¡± he said, turning his face back down the stairs to address Servant. ¡°Wherever did you find one?¡±

    The homunculus simply replied, ¡°He is your guest.¡±

    ¡°Ah well,¡± said the corpse, looking back to Dirt, with a charming smile that stopped short of revealing his teeth. ¡°Pardon my manners. Welcome to my home, little one. Did you come alone?¡±

    The intervening years had changed the man¡¯s face so much that only the eyes looked familiar. He had been overweight before and was thin as a twig now. The jaw was larger, his cheeks sunken and his blue lips tight and thin instead of full. Even the body language had changed.

    But the eyes, those were familiar. If this really was dear old Caeso, then the knowledge he held would be invaluable. He had been here for the breaking and knew what Avitus was doing. Perhaps even how, and where it went wrong. That was knowledge Dirt might badly need if he ever wanted to try fixing things. Still, it might be best not to introduce himself right way, in case the corpse reacted as Prisca had. Perhaps not ever.

    ¡°Caeso?¡± asked Dirt.

    The man arched his eyebrows in surprise and paused. ¡°Hm? How by the gods could you¡­ Ah, you have been reading my notes, you naughty boy. Although one wonders where you learned to read?¡±

    ¡°Answer my question first. Are you Caeso? Caesius Sornatius Vala?¡± said Dirt. He inhaled mana, holding his mind sharp and ready to react as soon as the corpse made its move.

    ¡°I am indeed. The very man. What a surprise! You read, and you speak the ancient tongue. Tell me, little boy, where did you come from?¡± said the corpse. He took an easy step forward, not quite to the center of the room, and stood with his hands behind his back in a deceptively unthreatening posture.

    Dirt said, ¡°Turicum, I suppose.¡± He frowned in pity, more and more certain that this was indeed his friend. A lost friend, but a beloved one, all those years ago. Now, perhaps all that was left of the love between them was the duty to put down an abominable corpse.

    ¡°I doubt that very much,¡± said Caeso. He tilted his head slightly to the side, regarding Dirt in a way that looked rather like a curious wolf. Dirt¡¯s lights, through no intention of his own, flickered and took on a reddish hue, which reflected on all the brass work and polished stone to give the room a stuffy, warm appearance despite the chill air. ¡°I answered your question freely, and now you will answer mine. I ask you again. Did you come alone?¡±

    ¡°No, my friends Socks and Antelmu are nearby,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Socks? Is your friend a cat?¡± asked Caeso, eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement.

    ¡°No, he¡¯s a wolf. And that makes two answers for you, and one for me. My next question is, how did you become like this?¡±

    The corpse froze, his eyes fixed on Dirt, unwavering. Dirt wished he could see the man¡¯s thoughts, but dead things had no minds. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure where to put the most mana. Where would the attack come, since it surely would? The throat? The stomach? The eyes?

    ¡°Became like what, exactly? No, wait; that is not another question. I received the brand. That is your answer,¡± said Caeso. His tone of voice was measured and careful. ¡°Now it is your turn. I find myself very curious about you, little boy. But I don¡¯t want to waste a precious question on your mere name. It will probably be something like Scruffy or Runt.¡±

    ¡°Dirt. I¡¯ll give you that one for free.¡±

    ¡°Of course it is,¡± said Caeso, doubting.

    ¡°My name really is Dirt. That¡¯s not a lie, or evasive.¡±

    Caeso stepped forward and to the side, just a bit closer, but circling. He viewed Dirt from an angle now. ¡°Is that a praenomen or a cognomen?¡±

    ¡°A cognomen. No family.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    The longer Dirt watched, the more unsettling it was. Dirt might have known there was something off about Caeso even if he didn¡¯t know the man was dead. The way he stared, the way he walked. Dirt had spent enough time around predators to recognize one. The two didn¡¯t quite know what to make of each other, and Dirt supposed that only being interesting was keeping Caeso from attacking him already.

    ¡°How do you speak the ancient tongue? That is my next question.¡±

    ¡°Why do you ask?¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Because there are very few left who can and I was sure I knew them all. Now answer!¡± said Caeso. He didn¡¯t quite shout, but raising his voice had the effect of making the room seem to flex and bend.

    ¡°I think my parents probably taught me, just like everyone else. I don¡¯t remember them, though. They¡¯re long gone,¡± said Dirt, shying back. Should he get up from his chair, just to be more mobile? Or would that make it too obvious?

    ¡°How long gone?¡± said Caeso, insistently.

    ¡°Is that another question?¡± asked Dirt. He met the corpse¡¯s gaze, although it was largely to watch for sudden motion.

    The corpse stared, considering, then said, ¡°I think I already know. No, I am certain. Your accent is perfect, and you have knowledge of our ways. I listened to the ancient tongue change and decay and vanish over thousands of years. It is gone now. I watched it myself!¡±

    Dirt¡¯s hand crept to his knife, but not all the way. Caeso¡¯s eyes flicked downward when he noticed, and Dirt stopped. The moment he touched the handle would be the end of the conversation.

    Caeso took a step forward, seeming to grow larger, looming as he drew closer. ¡°Then, how? How did you retain the blush of life all this time?¡±

    ¡°Your thinking is too narrow, I¡¯m afraid. I haven¡¯t been alive for three thousand years,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°How do you know that number? And my name; you know me. What are you?¡± shouted Caeso. The more animated he grew, the less human he looked. His eyes widened but they looked flat and dead, like a fresh corpse¡¯s. His lips drew back to reveal sharp teeth set in withdrawn, pale gums. His skin tightened around his face, like there wasn¡¯t quite enough of it.

    ¡°Is that a question? Isn¡¯t it my turn?¡± said Dirt. He stood, rather than let the corpse get any closer and pin him down. He circled slowly. They both knew where this conversation would end.

    With seeming great difficulty, Caeso calmed back down somewhat, although he didn¡¯t close his mouth all the way. Dirt could still see him hungrily running his dry tongue across his teeth. ¡°It is your turn. Ask your next question.¡±

    ¡°I saw another name in your notes. Someone named Avitus. What do you think of him?¡± said Dirt. He held his breath, hoping against reason for a positive answer.

    Again, the question froze Caeso in place. But not for very long, as his lips curled into a sneer. He scowled down at Dirt, only a few steps away now.

    ¡°You ask the most curious questions, little boy,¡± spat Caeso. Dirt could watch the man waver between striking and continuing the conversation. His curiosity, so far, was weightier than his hunger. ¡°Why are you pretending not to know who he was?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say whether I knew him. I just asked what you thought of him,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Do not speak like a lawyer with me! Who or what sent you?¡± shouted Caeso.

    ¡°Why would you think someone did?¡± said Dirt. ¡°Just tell me what you think of Avitus!¡±

    ¡°Why would I think someone sent you? Do you take me for a simpleton? You wandered into the Turris Solis speaking the ancient tongue and asked me about the days of the Empire. You hardly spoke a word before you began giving yourself away. You even summoned magical lights instead of bringing a lamp! How many still live who can do that?¡± said Caeso loudly. The walls shuddered to help emphasize his words. ¡°The only question is why. Why! Why! Are you a gift? Or a trap?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a trap,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I want to leave.¡±

    ¡°No, you will tell me!¡± said Caeso as he lunged forward, but Dirt was ready. He drew the knife and gave a mana-infused leap to the side in the same motion, landing on the far end of the room between a small table and a red chair.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Caeso snarled, his face growing monstrous again. He dove toward Dirt, fingers out like claws to grab him. The corpse moved faster than any human Dirt had ever seen, crossing from one end of the room to the other in an instant. Dirt jumped to the side to dodge again, but Caeso changed the angle of his run and caught Dirt¡¯s wrist. He shook it and squeezed to get him to drop the knife.

    Dirt resisted with mana, which sparked and buzzed as Caeso¡¯s incredible strength tried to crush the bones. He pulled to get away, but couldn¡¯t. He pushed more mana into his arm and pulled again.

    Caeso stepped back and used his leverage to yank Dirt off his feet and slam him against the wall. He pressed his hand into Dirt¡¯s throat, pinning him there. He opened his mouth to speak again, thinking he¡¯d won, but Dirt raised his knee and gave the corpse a solid shove right in the chest, infused with enough mana to jump right over Socks.

    The corpse was flung back, sliding on the polished floor until he hit a carpet and stopped. Dirt threw the knife and Caeso only had to dodge a finger¡¯s width to evade it.

    Caeso stepped forward, face stretched and pained with ferocity. Dirt snatched the knife with his mind and yanked it, point first, into the back of the corpse¡¯s neck. The blade went right through without the slightest sound and stuck out from the bump in his throat.

    ¡°Whoever sent you prepared you poorly,¡± said Caeso, his voice ruined by the blade, raspy and weak. He left the knife where it was and didn¡¯t bleed. Not a drop.

    The corpse shot forward, fist like it had been flung by a sling, right into Dirt¡¯s stomach. Only being prepared with mana saved him, but the force was tremendous and sent him hurtling into a chair, which shattered beneath him.

    Dirt rose, dusting himself off, and looked up at a very surprised Caeso, fist still held forward. Dirt ran forward and punched his reply, but the corpse lightly pushed the back of his wrist and guided the punch into empty air. Then he elbowed Dirt in the side of the face and followed it up with a kick to the ribs. Dirt toppled and bounced twice before he slid, right into another chair at the other end of the room, near the stairs.

    ¡°You must tell me, boy. What are you? Who sent you?¡± said Caeso, sounding impressed. He even gave a respectful nod when Dirt got back up and inhaled a fresh charge of mana to replace his stores, which had diminished precipitously.

    ¡°I just wanted to see what was in here,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Nothing more.¡± He yanked the knife out of Caeso¡¯s neck with his mind, but before he could strike again, the corpse spun and snatched in from the air and Dirt lost his mental grip. The wound in his neck closed on its own and his voice returned to normal.

    Caeso paced with smooth and deliberate steps, ready to react in an instant. He held the blade up, where he could look at it and still see Dirt. ¡°Just a tourist, with one of these. And where did a clueless little boy get a Precursor blade?¡± He threw the knife and Dirt dodged away. It buried itself to the hilt in the stone, right between where Dirt¡¯s feet had been.

    ¡°Pick it up,¡± commanded the corpse. ¡°I like it better when there¡¯s some spark in your blood.¡±

    Dirt snatched it with a mental yank, and brought it back to his hand. He raced forward, arm high with a slice. Caeso stepped easily to the side and gave Dirt the gentlest of nudges on the shoulder, throwing him completely off balance.

    Swing after wild swing, and each time the corpse dodged or deflected with a single hand. Dirt tried tripping him with his mind, but the corpse kicked through it and sent the force rebounding into Dirt¡¯s stomach, which felt like a goblin punch and knocked the wind out of him.

    Caeso picked Dirt up by the collar, spun in a complete circle, and threw Dirt against the wall. Dirt turned at the last instant to take the blow with his back instead of his head, but even so, the mana inside him flared hard as it struggled to protect his bones and innards.

    He inhaled more just as Caeso stepped over and grabbed him by the back of the collar again, lifted him overhead, and smashed him down into the ground head first. The mana flared so hard keeping his brains in that Dirt was sure it was visible in the room. He scrambled back, panting, inhaling mana as fast as he could.

    ¡°You are truly the worst fighter I have ever seen,¡± said Caeso. ¡°I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised that you fight like a child.¡±

    Dirt frowned and yanked the rocks out of the window with his mind. He flung them one by one at Caeso, who simply caught them and set them down. The man¡¯s arms moved faster than Dirt could follow with his eyes. Indeed, Dirt might be able to move that fast with mana, but not so consistently. Mana didn¡¯t make his mind go faster, after all.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what I am if you tell me what you are,¡± said Dirt. The mana protecting him was doing its job imperfectly. He was able to keep himself from being seriously damaged, but his guts still felt shaken and he was sore. His mana lights wavered, their light thinning until he brightened them again. He couldn¡¯t keep this up forever.

    Caeso ignored that, but must have seen that Dirt was showing signs of weakening. He grinned eagerly, hungrily, and held his hands up. His fingertips stretched and grew into sharp points, giving him knife-edge claws, pale as bone in contrast with his black tunic. ¡°You¡¯re sturdier than expected. Let¡¯s try cutting.¡±

    ¡°Socks!¡± shouted Dirt in his mind, but no answer came. And now that he looked, his mental sight found nothing at all, not a single mind. Not even Antelmu. How far had he gone?

    The corpse stepped forward, displaying his claws, as Dirt scooted backward until he hit the wall. He held the knife forward in both hands, trying to be ready.

    Caeso laughed and kept coming. He kept his hands away from Dirt¡¯s wild swings, and when Dirt rolled and tried a mana-infused jump to get away, he snatched Dirt by the ankle, right out of midair, and flung him across the room into the far wall again, opposite the window.

    Dirt braced himself for impact and managed to avoid getting hurt, but the corpse was already across the room. He caught Dirt by the wrist with the knife in it and held him up. Dirt kept his grip on the knife, but felt the little bones slide apart and send as much mana as he could.

    Caeso pulled his other arm back, making sure Dirt saw it all, and pointed one knife-like finger at Dirt¡¯s open palm. Then he thrust so fast Dirt shrieked and punched right through the skin. The mana Dirt had sent there kept the point from going all the way through, but it broke the skin and a line of blood dripped down, red on white. Caeso licked it with his dry, leathery tongue.

    Dirt struggled and squirmed as Caeso sucked at the wound, licking it with his cold tongue, which grew slick and slimy and turned Dirt¡¯s stomach. It felt nothing like being licked by Socks.

    For the first time, Dirt began to consider seriously that he was about to die. So much for being the strongest human. Somehow, it didn¡¯t all seem quite real, and the terror he should be feeling hadn¡¯t quite lodged itself in his heart yet.

    With a contented sigh, the corpse pulled his head back and smiled widely. His teeth were all red with Dirt¡¯s blood, and when he inhaled to speak, his breath smelled wet and rotten. It¡¯d had no scent at all before.

    ¡°You never told me what you thought of Avitus,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Oh, is that your dying wish? Or are you stalling to wait for rescue? None will come, child. Nothing can enter here,¡± said Caeso. Flecks of Dirt¡¯s blood flew from the corpse¡¯s lips as he spoke and landed on Dirt¡¯s face. Strangely, not a drop had collected in his beard. Dirt supposed it was too precious to waste.

    ¡°Just tell me.¡±

    ¡°Why do you want to know that, of all things? Is the creature that sent you a historian? Was that your task? To research the breaking of the world and the banishment of the gods?¡±

    ¡°They were banished? Is that what happened?¡±

    ¡°You are truly a perplexing little creature, Dirt, or whatever your true name is. I know now you are indeed a mere boy, but your blood doesn¡¯t have as much fear in it as I expected. Are there more like you? If so, I have been resting for too long,¡± said Caeso. He leaned in and slurped the pooling blood, then licked Dirt¡¯s palm greedily to clean it. Dirt almost retched.

    ¡°Only me,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Do all little boys learn magic these days?¡±

    ¡°Only me,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°It has been a very, very long time since I tasted mana-infused blood. I am starting to think I¡¯ll want to keep you alive for a while. What do you think of that?¡±

    Dirt reminded himself once more that this abominable corpse had been his friend, once. One he¡¯d kept in touch with right until the end. Pity had its place in Dirt¡¯s heart and kept the terror at bay. Poor old Caeso, become something so wretched.

    Caeso must have seen something in Dirt¡¯s gaze that didn¡¯t please him. The room visibly shrank and Dirt¡¯s lights all winked out, save one. The knife in Dirt¡¯s hands turned to sand and sifted through his surprised fingers.

    ¡°What¡­?¡± muttered Dirt. Fear struck him then, genuine fear. He hastily gazed at his mana body, hoping to detect some working of magic that he could understand or undo. Caeso had a presence in the world of magic, one which was beginning to fill with power. There were hints of something going on, but it was too subtle for Dirt to make out, and might have just been a reflection, not a cause.

    ¡°This is my domain, child. In this place, I am a god. Ah, yes! There it is! The scent of fear. You are growing more delicious.¡±  Caeso stared deeply into Dirt¡¯s eyes, and Dirt watched in growing horror as the rictus skin of his face grew more supple, as the dead eyes filled with life and moisture.

    Dirt¡¯s single light winked out, even though he felt the tiny mana connection still active. Despite the darkness, he found he could see. Caeso¡¯s eyes, unwavering, penetrating, demanded his attention, and behind the corpse¡¯s head, the room continued to change. Bloody spikes creaked out of the walls as it all closed in further. The red furniture was moist now, dripping, soaking with blood. It dripped from everything and pooled on the floor, where it bubbled and swirled. Unknowable things swam in it, lumpy shapes.

    The only light was above them. A pale one, flickering, but white. White enough to make everything redder. But whatever else was happening, Dirt couldn¡¯t look away from Caeso¡¯s eyes.

    Fear was inflicted on him. It came not only from inside himself, but from outside, like it was forced down his throat. He was too scared to even scream, too petrified with fear to move. And there was nothing to see but the corpse¡¯s eyes, flashing now with lightning, dripping with blood in place of tears. Beneath those eyes, a vicious smile of teeth too long and sharp to be real, but Dirt couldn¡¯t look away.

    Only the tiniest portion of Dirt¡¯s wits remained, just enough to wonder where his lights went. They were all still there, shining nowhere in a shrinking, blackening room. How could any of this be real? Was it? Or was it all a dream?

    That one thought, that it was a dream, snagged somehow on Dirt¡¯s mind, like a leaf floating on a stream that caught on a branch and stayed in place. It all felt unreal, except what was inside himself. The fear was real, and the cut on his palm was real. But the rest?

    ¡°Apkallu? Apkallu?¡± muttered Dirt, in a different tone of voice each time. Was the fae man involved here somehow? ¡°Apkallu?¡±

    The fairy appeared in the room, right behind Caeso. The corpse felt his presence and shook slightly in startlement, then turned to see what it was.

    ¡°Interesting!¡± said Apkallu. ¡°Our worlds are much closer here. Why do you call to me, Avitus?¡±

    ¡°Can you help me?¡± asked Dirt. ¡°He¡¯s going to kill me.¡±

    Apkallu sighed sadly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my dear friend Avitus. This creature is too close to us and I cannot break this seeming for you. You¡¯ll have to wake yourself.¡±

    Caeso said, ¡°What are you doing here? Be gone!¡±

    The fae man ignored the dead one and added, ¡°But I am pleased you called for me. This happens many times during your life. It is why we are friends.¡±

    And with that, he vanished again and the space closed in around him, completing Caeso¡¯s cursed dwelling once more.

    Dirt struggled to force himself awake, but Caeso fixed his eye on him again and the pressure was too much to swim against. Perhaps if this had happened a few moments earlier, Caeso might pause and ask questions, but not now. He was too intent on his target, on subduing Dirt and filling him with unrestrained fear.

    Resisting only got Dirt so far. In the waking world, he might perhaps beat anyone in a pure test of wills, but not in a dream-tainted one. Not against a being with such experience. He felt his blood boil inside him, so much fear it manifested as pain. Caeso¡¯s grin grew wider.

    Dirt took mental hold of one of his lights, still unseeable, and turned it into a flame. He poured all the mana into it that he was using to protect his legs, trying to grow it as large as he could.

    A flicker of dismay crossed Caeso¡¯s vision, and Dirt knew it was working. He just didn¡¯t know exactly where the fire was. So what should he do with it?

    The answer was obvious. He drew it toward himself until he felt the heat on his face, smelled how it singed long strands of his own stray hair. Dirt braced himself and pulled the fire against his cheek. His face erupted in pain. He screamed. The corpse¡¯s enchantment fell apart around him.

    -DIRT!- shouted Socks for the fiftieth time.

 Volume IV - Chapter 16

    ¡°I¡¯m here! I hear you!¡± replied Dirt, finally able to see Socks¡¯s mind. The pup was only twenty or thirty paces away, judging from its brightness.

    -I can¡¯t see in. I am going to smash this tower,- said Socks, mental voice frantic.

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± thought Dirt. His face stung outrageously, and he hoped he hadn¡¯t burned himself too badly. It felt like he had. Dirt held the ball of flame between himself and Caeso, and the corpse scowled in subdued frustration. The room was back to its normal shape and color, no spikes or blood anywhere except on Caeso¡¯s sharp teeth, and Dirt was still holding his knife. It hadn¡¯t turned to sand after all.

    ¡°Light and fire without a circle or tools? I¡¯m impressed,¡± said Caeso, lips closing over his teeth as his eyes flickered all throughout the room. Dirt supposed he was upset his enchantment hadn¡¯t worked. What had Apkallu called it? A seeming?

    Dirt eyed the stairs up, considering fleeing that way, but the door was closed and might be sealed. Best not get trapped finding out. No, the window was his best shot. He could jump out, but the shutters were closed, and he wasn¡¯t sure they could open in a hurry. -Socks, on the first basement floor, there¡¯s a window. Go around and see if you can open it. If you can, I¡¯ll come out that way.-

    ¡°What is happening in there?¡±

    -I¡¯m fighting that corpse. It¡¯s someone I used to know.-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what rumors you¡¯ve heard, but fire will not destroy me,¡± said Caeso, waving his hand dismissively at the ball of flame Dirt had used to burn his face.

    Dirt pushed the ball of flame a little closer to him anyway, just to see what he¡¯d do. The corpse stuck his hand into the flame and left it there, never breaking eye contact. Caeso¡¯s eye lit up again with fervor as he focused.

    Moans and screams of pain echoed up from the lower floor. ¡°I will keep you alive, but I will not keep you unharmed,¡± said Caeso. Dirt¡¯s fire vanished.

    Except it didn¡¯t. Dirt could still feel the mana connection. That knowledge, coupled with the fearsome pain on Dirt¡¯s face, ruined the encroaching seeming and kept him fully awake. The voices ceased and the flame reappeared right where he left it.

    Caeso screamed in anger and lunged at Dirt again, claws first. Dirt was ready and slashed wildly, forcing the corpse to dodge or lose his fingers. Dirt circled until Caeso was no longer in between him and the window.

    ¡°You are troublesome prey,¡± said Caeso, circling. What life was left in his face showing him weighing his next mode of attack. ¡°Servant, grab him.¡±

    The homunculus shambled up the stairs at great speed, and Dirt backed up to try to keep them both in his view at once. Caeso was too clever for that, of course, and moved the other direction.

    Servant ran full tilt at Dirt, but Dirt grabbed its ankle with his mind and tripped it. The puppet collapsed.

    Finally, Socks found the window and ripped the shutters right off the building with a loud crash. An instant later, Dirt was whisked out the opening faster than he could blink and deposited safely behind Socks¡¯s rear paw. His relief was so strong he almost chuckled. Despite the cold, he found himself sweating.

    Then Caeso shot out the window, stopping in midair. Socks stretched him out to look at, giving him the appearance of having been crucified. Whatever that meant. Dirt wasn¡¯t sure.

    ¡°What by Pastorus Irrumator are you?!¡± shouted Caeso, struggling furiously against his mental restraints. The corpse might be able to shrug off anything Dirt could do, but unless he could lift Socks up, he wasn¡¯t getting away now.

    Sparks gathered around Caeso and in the instant before Socks annihilated him, Dirt yelled, ¡°Wait!¡±

    Socks turned back to glance at Dirt, yellow eyes flaring in the darkness. The pup had his hackles up and a low growl in his throat, which was all the more intimidating because he was growing so fast.

    ¡°Wait,¡± said Dirt again. ¡°I need to ask him more questions.¡±

    -I can¡¯t talk to him because he doesn¡¯t have a mind.-

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll kill him. But I have some things I need to know first,¡± replied Dirt mentally. He stepped out from behind Socks, patting his friend¡¯s front leg as he passed, just to reassure him. He didn¡¯t get too close, though, lest Socks decide it wasn¡¯t worth the risk and put the entire situation to rest.

    Caeso calmed down, dead eyes watching. ¡°You have quite the pet, Dirt,¡± he said, voice still full of venom.

    ¡°I¡¯m the pet, not him,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Except that we¡¯re friends, not pets.¡±

    ¡°Where did you find such a marvelous beast?¡±

    ¡°He found me. Listen. You¡¯re not going to be able to hunt me anymore, not with him around, so you may as well stop struggling,¡± said Dirt.

    The moon was up, but it was only half full, so Dirt summoned another light. Caeso looked at the light, then stared at Dirt a moment longer. His eyes rested on the wolf briefly and darted away. Finally he relaxed, predatory hunger draining from his face. He looked fully human again, like he had when he came up the stairs, except for a few small slices in his clothing from Dirt¡¯s knife. No visible trace remained of the cut in his neck. If anything, he looked even paler in the silver moonlight, despite the yellowish tint of Dirt¡¯s magical candle.

    ¡°You look a bit like him, you know. Like Avitus, my old friend. That must be why you kept asking about him. How many generations are between the two of you?¡± said Caeso, the richness of his natural voice returning. It seemed rather like humanity was a mask he put on, not the truth of himself that emerged when the rest was stripped away.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°You must be his descendant. Your hair is the same color as his, that streaky brown. Although he never wore his so long. The eyes are like his, and the jaw. The nose you must have gotten from your mother. His was larger,¡± said Caeso, voice calm now, like an uncle sitting in the garden, halfway into a glass of wine. ¡°I hardly remember those days anymore. A strange thing happens when you live a long time, little boy. Your early memories grow brighter, while more recent ones fade into insignificance. And then, as they weary years plod on, the early memories no longer matter as they once did.¡±

    ¡°Did you spend a lot of time with him? What was he like?¡± asked Dirt.

    -Why don¡¯t you tell him you are Avitus?- asked Socks. Still wary, still taut as a metal wire. But only watching now. Not aching to kill.

    ¡°Because I want to know things he won¡¯t tell me otherwise. I want to know what I was like,¡± replied Dirt. ¡°I¡¯ll tell him if it seems like it¡¯ll help.¡±

    Caeso, tilted his head back slightly, eyes twitching when he realized he was allowed that tiny bit of motion. He quickly resumed looking thoughtful. ¡°He was a complicated man, our Avitus. Brilliant. Focused. Rather obnoxious, if I must be honest. We had many of the same tutors, and although he was two years younger, I was always scrambling to keep up.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°Was he friendly? Did people like him?¡± asked Dirt. He almost regretted asking.

    ¡°Friendly is not the word for it. He always gave the orders, even when he was young. Others followed him naturally, and he knew it. Even I. It is hard to explain to someone who never met him, but he had a sincerity to everything he did and said that made him hard to contradict. And he was disciplined¡ªdisciplined like a knot in new rope. Like a sharpened gladius. He was every inch an Ancient. Was he friendly? No, not in the way you might be thinking. He was a leader. But never was he unfriendly.¡±

    -That only sounds partially like you,- said Socks. -Either he remembers poorly, or he is lying.-

    ¡°Or I was a different person then, living a different life,¡± said Dirt. Still, it hurt him somehow, thinking he might not have been friendly.

    -Maybe that is only how you treated him,- suggested Socks. Well, that made sense. It was a possibility.

    Caeso twisted a bit in Socks¡¯s mental grasp and said, ¡°I know I am beaten. I would be more comfortable if you let me down. I will not resist.¡±

    Socks gave a low growl, deep and loud, but brief.

    ¡°That sounds like a no. Is the wolf the one holding me?¡± asked Caeso.

    ¡°Yep, it¡¯s him. Okay, actually, Socks, will you lick my cheek? The cold air is making it sting worse. Here, and my hand. He cut it,¡± said Dirt, aloud. He turned his head and held his hand up.

    Socks noticed for the first time and snarled viciously at Caeso. He inched forward, and Dirt could tell he was straining to resist killing him.

    ¡°Just a little longer, Socks. Please,¡± asked Dirt mentally.

    -What if it leaves a big scar on your face? What did he do to you?- said Socks. The lengthy questions didn¡¯t match the fury the pup felt.

    ¡°Just hurry up and lick it,¡± said Dirt.

    Socks angrily licked Dirt¡¯s head, lots of rapid little licks while he stared knives into Caeso. At first Dirt¡¯s face stung fiercely and made him flinch away, but Socks held him in place with his mind until it was all done.

    ¡°Remarkable,¡± said Caeso, not elaborating.

    Dirt¡¯s wet hair got cold and wiping it with his sleeve didn¡¯t help. Caeso said, ¡°Avitus would never have let his hair grow so long, by the way. He kept it short and you look like you haven¡¯t had a trim in half a year.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°It¡¯s getting in your eyes. Get a haircut, child. You look ridiculous,¡± said Caeso, putting amusement into his voice. It wasn¡¯t completely convincing. Dirt noticed him scanning the scenery.

    ¡°Did Avitus ever have a mate? Or a wife, I mean? And children?¡± asked Dirt. He immediately regretted it.

    ¡°Are you not proof he did? What a strange question. Yes, he had a wife, and four of his children survived to adulthood. He neglected them all, and it was a common joke in the Ancient City how they resented him,¡± said Caeso. ¡°For most of his life, his true children were the Collegium. He had little patience for anything else.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dirt, looking down. He¡¯d felt lingering guilt about breaking the world, and now he had another dollop to add.

    -I do not believe that,- said Socks. -You would not neglect your brood. Stop asking things that will make you sad, little Dirt. Those people are gone and you don¡¯t need to miss them. And whatever you did was a long time ago and you don¡¯t need to feel bad about it now.-

    ¡°What if he¡¯s right, though? What if I was the kind of person who would do that? Maybe I don¡¯t know myself like I thought I did,¡± replied Dirt.

    Socks turned his gaze from Caeso to Dirt, giving his friend his full attention. -That is wrong, little Dirt. Little human, my best friend. He is just one human, and lived far away from you, if he lived here. The things humans think and say are not always right.-

    ¡°You two are communicating somehow, aren¡¯t you? Tell me. You must tell me how you do it,¡± said Caeso. ¡°No, before you open your mouth, do not deny it. I can tell just by watching you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, we are,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    Dirt didn¡¯t answer, though, and neither did Socks.

    Socks said, -Listen, Dirt. I want to say something to you. You should think that you died, not that you survived. This is a new life. A different one. If you did bad things in your past life, they went away when you died. When you became alive again and got up, you were a new person. If you insist on bringing things from the old life into the new one, then only bring the good things, or the things that make you wise and strong. Let the bad things stay dead.- The pup¡¯s tone of voice was all a jumble; lingering anger at Caeso mixed with his indignation that Dirt might have to suffer, and coming through it all, very strongly, pity and concern for his little friend.

    Dirt knew Socks made a very good point; a convincing one, almost. But he couldn¡¯t find the strength to adopt it fully. Perhaps it was his sense of duty, or perhaps guilt simply wasn¡¯t that easy to talk away, but the past had one claw in him that he couldn¡¯t pluck out.

    Socks huffed in feigned annoyance, which was actually deep pity.

    ¡°It looks like quite a conversation,¡± said Caeso.

    Dirt said, ¡°All right, I have just one last question. No more questions about Avitus¡¯s life. Do you know much about how he broke the world? What did he do, exactly? What happened?¡± He braced himself for more answers he didn¡¯t want to hear.

    ¡°You know enough to ask the question, but none of the details? Is that it? Strange to see what portions of history are not preserved. Very well. I will tell you what I remember, which is less than all I once knew, and less still than the truth of what Avitus did. He never shared the details until he saw the outcome.

    ¡°I remember that he wanted to bring the gods into the world, the silly fool, as if they could not come on their own if they wanted. He was researching new sigils for a grand enchantment along those lines. I was sure he would be struck dead before he completed anything so blasphemous, or succeed. I would have given even odds to either outcome.

    ¡°What did happen was a terrible noise, heard everywhere in the empire. A metallic roar? A grinding moan? It is impossible to describe. One person in three simply fell dead on the spot. Just fell right over! Standing one moment plugging his ears, and then laying dead the next. Then came the earthquakes. If my tower wasn¡¯t enchanted it would have fallen. And after the earthquakes, fires. Things would burst into flame all on their own. A tree, a home. A robe and the hapless man wearing it.

    ¡°Storms brought floods and tornadoes. Winds toppled spires and devastated crops. The world itself unraveled. I was sure the entirety of the work of the gods was about to collapse back into primordial nothingness. Magic ceased to function consistently. Millions died. Countless lives were lost. But things settled down. The rules of the world righted themselves again. The years after were hard, though peaceful. Crops failed, supply lines dried up. Everything changed so quickly! A few short decades, and it was as if the Sunset Empire had never existed.

    ¡°All prayers and sacrifices to the gods went unanswered after that. By the gods, at least. Other things began to answer sometimes, but they rewarded with curses instead of succor. Piety ceased to be, after only a few generations.

    ¡°The survivors knew, somehow. I think he must have publicized it before he made the attempt. That poor wretch¡¯s name became the vilest curse. I know Prisca hates him, as do Quintus and Faustus. Do you remember them? Or have you met them, I mean to say? But me, I do not hate him. I would never have gotten my gift if Avitus hadn¡¯t opened the way. I do not miss him, but I do not hate him. I found a higher power than even the gods, and he was simply a tool it used to manifest itself.¡±

    Dirt quietly asked, ¡°The purple smoke monster?¡±

    Caeso laughed, and this time it sounded sincere. ¡°Again you surprise me! Have you seen a portion of her, then? The mother of the third way? Or is that a story you heard somewhere?¡±

    ¡°I saw it myself. I guess now I know what happened to you,¡± said Dirt. He hung his head. ¡°Go ahead, Socks.¡±

    The sparks reappeared, swirling as they gathered around Caeso. Dirt stepped back.

    The corpse sensed what was about to happen and shot a frenzied stare at Socks, eyes fierce and penetrating again. Then to Dirt. He felt the edges of a seeming claw at his consciousness, that half-dream of imagination turning real.

    The sparks all went out. Caeso pulled off his tunic and dropped to the ground, leaving it hanging there in the air. His chest was bare now, hairless, unlike Ignasi¡¯s or H¨¨ctor''s, skin pale and stretched, muscles thin with hunger. Above his right breast, near the shoulder, was a large purple bruise, the same color as the smoke monster, which pulsed and squirmed in the moonlight.

    ¡°Wait! Socks, don¡¯t drop him! It¡¯s not real!¡± shouted Dirt mentally, but it was too late. The confused pup believed his eyes instead of his mental fingers, and thought the corpse had gotten away. He released his mental hold, and they watched as the tunic dropped, right back over Caeso¡¯s body.

    Caeso waved, and left at a mad sprint, faster than an echo, instantly vanishing.

    -What just happened?-

    ¡°It¡¯s just a seeming! A lie, sort of. He can¡¯t have gone far! I bet he¡¯s not even that fast. In fact, he might be hiding right nearby, waiting for us to leave. Can you find his scent?¡±

    Socks paced the ground around the tower for a long while, as did Dirt, trying to peek into any hiding places Socks might miss. They found no further traces and gave up when Antelmu returned, empty handed.

    Dirt knew then he was in for a long night of poor sleep. Somewhere, there was a thirsty corpse that had tasted his blood.

 Volume IV - Chapter 17

    Dirt might have preferred to spend a day at the tower reading, but Socks wouldn¡¯t let him. Even though the burn on his cheek hadn¡¯t been that bad, it left an area redder than the rest as it healed. It wasn¡¯t quite a scar, but the skin there did feel a little different when he rubbed it. While Socks was relieved it wasn¡¯t worse, he wasn¡¯t happy it had happened.

    Servant watched silently as the pup pulled the tower¡¯s heavy door shut. Afterward, Socks said he heard it shambling to another room in there, probably to tidy up the place and wait for the return of its master. Dirt regretted leaving so much reading material behind, but it was for the best. It would be safe in there until he could find a way to safely transport it to the Schola. Unfortunately, Caeso¡¯s corpse hadn¡¯t returned to its coffin, which meant they couldn¡¯t destroy it and be done with him. Not yet.

    They traveled away from the rising sun, toward the lands they knew. The morning was quiet, even including mental speech. Socks was upset that Dirt had been injured and might have been killed if the fight had gone on longer, and was being moody about it.

    For his part, Antelmu was somber and spent most of his time thinking about his failed hunt the night before, and what it meant for the immediate future. He¡¯d been hoping he could hold the bow with his feet and draw with his unbroken hand, but it hadn¡¯t worked and he hadn¡¯t even shot an arrow, let alone hit something edible. That made his reliance on Dirt and Socks all the more poignant. Other than them, he was totally isolated, with nowhere to go for safety and no way to hunt except his spear, and that wasn¡¯t shaped right for throwing.

    Indeed, he began to have the sort of thoughts that Dirt was all too familiar with. Things like, How do I need to act to stay alive? and How can I stay on their good side? And just like Dirt, those thoughts were not uncoupled from the sincere affection he was developing. He¡¯d put Dirt in the same category in his mind as Gnaziu, the nine-year-old, and he was quite fond of Socks, even though it was clear that Socks¡¯s best friend was Dirt and not him. Strangely, he would often forget for hours that Dirt and Socks could see all his thoughts if they wanted, and when he did remember, it didn¡¯t bother him what they might have seen.

    Dirt didn¡¯t mean to pry, not really; he just had nothing else to do while Socks ran. The scenery wasn¡¯t particularly impressive. No grand sweeping vistas with promises of excitement and discovery. No, the morning¡¯s run was across plains of frozen earth and dry grasses that spiked up from the thin snow. And it was warmer, too, which he hadn¡¯t expected. Not warm, certainly, but warmer. Warm enough to start melting the snow and making the ground muddy.

    One thing Dirt noticed was that after his experience with Caeso¡¯s seemings, his imagination felt a bit more real than before. He fell easier into daydreams, and whatever he conjured up in his mind was strong and vibrant. Either that, or he was imagining it being different and just seeing his own thoughts from a slightly different perspective. Still, he liked to think his dream body might have grown just a little.

    Around midday, they stopped for a nap, which Antelmu didn¡¯t need; he walked to another spot and practiced stabbing with his spear while Dirt and Socks slept.

    Socks was in a more playful mood after that and did a lot more exploring than running for the rest of the day. The warm sunlight brought out all sorts of hungry little critters, and he wanted to catch a glimpse of whichever ones he could. Mice and rats, mostly, and other creatures their size, whose names Dirt didn¡¯t know. One of which had a long, pointy nose, and Socks managed to snatch it up for Dirt and Antelmu to look at. By the time it had floated back to their waiting hands, the poor thing was dead of fright.

    He came across the trail of a small pack of canines and followed it to the end, which turned out to be their den. They weren¡¯t inside it; he¡¯d followed the trail the wrong direction. But the hole leading in wasn¡¯t much larger than Dirt¡¯s head, so they couldn¡¯t have been very big. Socks said they didn¡¯t smell like dogs, so Antelmu suggested it could be foxes or coyotes, neither of which Dirt or Socks had seen before. Antelmu had only seen foxes a few times, but he¡¯d helped chase coyotes away from the sheep and goats on a regular basis. From his memory of them, they seemed to look like tiny gray wolves.

    As night drew close and they made their final stop, playful winds picked up that blew randomly from three different directions. Dirt watched for minds and sure enough, he found a small group of air elementals. Their minds felt young. Something in their emotions reminded Dirt of himself, and of Socks, flitting through the world with little direction, only their own noses and curiosity to follow. Except that Dirt and Socks were mostly running away from the Devourer, and the elements seemed to be headed toward something; just not in a particular hurry.

    The more he watched, the more he wished he could communicate with them better. He had some experience, but he only knew a little of their language. He couldn¡¯t even ask something like ¡®Where are you going¡¯ without a lot of planning and thought. Dirt suspected that only the intelligence of the great elementals let them understand him at all, rough as he was. Still, they were fun to watch.

    Late that night, Dirt and the others woke to pouring rain. It was startlingly dark, so dark that not even Socks could make out the barest shapes. Dirt summoned a few lights that shone weakly through the driving rain, and Socks quickly put a mental shield over them to keep the water off. He was tired, though, and wanted to sleep; he whined and squeaked softly, and that communicated enough.

    Dirt patted him on the fur and said aloud, ¡°Stay here and keep our packs dry.¡± Then he got up and immediately shivered when some water dripped off his hair and went down his back.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± said Antelmu, trying to blink himself fully awake.

    ¡°Not far,¡± said Dirt. The chill kept him from wanting to explain at length. ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡±

    -You will get lost,- said Socks.

    ¡°I won¡¯t get lost,¡± said Dirt. As he trudged away through the slick mud, he left one light hovering over Socks, which did the job. In a night as dark as this one, he¡¯d be able to go fifty paces or more before he couldn¡¯t see it, even through the rain.

    By the time he found was he was looking for, a group of saplings growing up near an old fallen stump, the top half of his shirt was soaked through and his mind was running wild. He knew he was being silly, but his lights only illuminated the ground for a few feet before the rain blocked everything. The rain flashed as it fell around him, falling so hard he had to shield his eyes with his hands to see at all. The rain made a rushing sound like ten rivers all at once, a cacophany that would hide anything worse coming. Over in the distance, he could barely make out the light above Socks and Antelmu, but in every other direction, just blackness.

    That gave space for his imagination, which called up the dream he¡¯d once had of the Devourer. The dryads had told him that the dream was with him always, not just during sleep, and from the strength of his imagination currently, he could believe it. It almost felt like he was causing the Devourer to appear, as if worrying about a thing could make it happen.

    Despite trying not to, he kept picturing those inferno-filled eyes flashing open in the darkness, those bared fangs creeping forward. He became sure the rain was covering the sound of his approach. He tried and tried to banish the thought, but the vision was sticky and he couldn¡¯t fling it off.

    And then being alone in the black of night was no fun at all. He tested the saplings to find the sturdiest one and used mana to shape the wood and sever it. He ran back but only made it four steps before his foot landed on a rock he didn¡¯t see, causing him to twist his ankle painfully and fall, coating his side with mud from shoes to hair. Dirt pulled himself up and limped back.

    Being wet made the cold a hundred times worse, and he shivered violently the whole time he shaped the wood. It took forever, too, growing something that large. First he stretched it into a long arc, big enough to cover Socks, and then grew it sideways into a half tube. It only grew inch by inch, creepingly slow. All the while as he worked, he was distressingly aware of that he couldn¡¯t watch behind him. He could feel those inferno eyes out there, ready to open and find him any moment.

    Socks made a warming fire, small and hot, which he never did, and held it close to Dirt with complete focus to make sure it didn¡¯t burn him. Antelmu scooted closer and waited. How long it took, Dirt couldn¡¯t tell; the cold and weariness and dread made it seem like forever. But he eventually finished, creating a low dome that covered the pup¡¯s body, with a small opening just past tail and a larger one on the other end so Socks would have no trouble filling his enormous lungs. He wasn¡¯t sure which was the better part¡ªknowing they¡¯d stay dry from now on, or knowing nothing outside could see him anymore.

    ¡°You need to change out of those wet clothes,¡± thought Antelmu, for them to see. ¡°Put on something spare from Biandina¡¯s pack. That¡¯ll be warmer.¡±

    After changing and shoving his wet clothes to the side, they were finally able to settle back in for the rest of the night. Socks fell asleep first, followed shortly by Antelmu, but much like the night before, Dirt lingered and couldn¡¯t fall all the way asleep. He¡¯d get halfway, into that state between wakefulness and dreaming where the wildest of imaginings happen, and remember something frightening. The toothy corpse of Caeso, which he imagined sneaking in silently to bite him somewhere tender. And what if the shelter wasn¡¯t thick enough and collapsed under the rain? Did he need to strengthen it again?Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    But the worst was the lingering dread of the Devourer. No imagining of something else could banish that particular phantom from his thoughts for long. He thought of the empty blackness of the storm and he pictured those eyes, those great eyes full of fire, bearing down on him and scorching away his flesh. Then consuming helpless Antelmu, and finally, feasting on a suffering Socks.

    Dirt pushed the vision away, but it rebounded each time. Everything he imagined surrounded him always, the dryads had told him. He should never have spent so much energy imagining this.

    He noticed the rain was gone and he was standing and realized he¡¯d fallen from wakefulness into a dream in an instant. He found himself on hard, bare soil, with an empty starless sky above. Panic struck him as he recognized it. This was the Devourer dream.

    Just as before, wolf eyes opened, full of fire and blazing heat. Beneath them, a maw hung slightly open in hunger, dripping saliva that burned and hissed when it hit the dead earth.

    -You call for me,- said the Devourer, speaking in thoughts instead of words. The image was of Dirt tracking through a dry, snowless wood, crunching on every fallen branch and leaf as he went. Dirt glowed, his scent was vivid, and in all other ways he stood out and begged to be seen. Up and down in all the world, the Devourer had been sniffing, casting his broad net and checking every thread for a tug, and now his prey was found. Dirt had called him, somehow, he realized. He¡¯d made himself visible by imagining it too hard.

    -Now, where are you?-

    Something strange happened then. Dirt was suddenly aware of his physical body. He felt the heat from those eyes on his physical self now, not just his dream one.

    He forced himself awake almost on reflex. He lay there panting in the darkness, sweat on his brow, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Last time he¡¯d dreamed of the Devourer, Dirt hadn¡¯t been able to wake himself up. The trees had to save him. What had changed?

    The dream was gone now, though; he could feel that with certainty. Had the Devourer seen him in the flesh? If so, there was nothing in here to see. If he¡¯d somehow looked upon this spot and seen the sleeping Socks, he wouldn¡¯t have learned much. Not even what kind of grass they were laying on.

    Dirt waited for it to happen again as he listened to the rain and the breath in Socks¡¯s lungs. It didn¡¯t. Whether he had more control over his imagination now, or whether the Devourer had accomplished its aims already, he had but normal thoughts, normal imaginings. Just to be safe, he resolved to stay awake until morning and sleep then. Socks could carry him while he slept.

    But he was asleep again before he knew it, and warm when he awoke. Antelmu had snuggled in between him and Socks and slept with one arm draped over him, which he¡¯d used to tuck the far end of the blanket to make sure Dirt stayed warm. That had happened some time after the Devourer dream.

    ¡°I dreamed of the Devourer, Socks,¡± said Dirt. He sent the complete vision, and some of his thoughts and impressions surrounding it. ¡°I think he saw me. Us.¡±

    Socks thought about it for a moment, then said, -I do not feel him near, or see any signs. But I will watch more carefully now. Tell me if it happens again.-

    ¡°I will.¡±

    It was still raining, the morning dark and sullen and wet. No one made the first move to get up until finally Dirt had to pee so bad he had no other choice. Antelmu followed him out, and when they were done, they hurried back in and snuggled against Socks¡¯s belly again to get warm, laughing and playful. That was all it took for the night to be well and truly over. Whatever phantasms had haunted him were gone now.

    -Let¡¯s lay here for a while longer. I don¡¯t have to pee yet. I didn¡¯t drink much water yesterday,- said Socks, and the boys were happy to comply.

    Somehow, it was easy to just lie there doing nothing, listening to the rain. Probably because it was still early and Dirt¡¯s body wasn¡¯t fully convinced it was daytime yet. That, or simply resting with nowhere to be and no responsibility was a luxury they hadn¡¯t enjoyed for a while.

    It was Antelmu who first started up a conversation. ¡°Can you two hear me?¡± he thought. Both of them noticed and replied ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Okay, good. So¡­¡± Antelmu paused, his thoughts swirling as he tried to find the right way to approach this. By the time he started thinking loudly again, the other two knew what he was going to ask. ¡°You said you¡¯re trying to save humanity. What¡¯s the plan, exactly? I know you want to stop that¡­ eye monster somehow. But other than that? Do you have anything in mind?¡±

    There was more he wasn¡¯t asking. He wanted to know what he was good for, and if he had a place with them now and in the future, or if he¡¯d made a mistake coming at all.

    Socks said, -I let Dirt make the plans.-

    Dirt snorted. That wasn¡¯t true at all. He thought, ¡°That¡¯s not an easy question. I keep finding new things to worry about. When I started out, I was only worried about staying alive. Everything was bigger than me and wanted to eat me. But then I found Socks, or rather, he found me, and then I had him to worry about. I want to stop the Devourer forever so Socks can have pups that aren¡¯t hunted when he grows up. So that¡¯s one thing. And I have more to say about that, but in a minute.¡±

    ¡°Maxima mentioned the Devourer and said he might be watching. What is that? What is the  Devourer?¡± thought Antelmu.

    Dirt winced, realizing he¡¯d forgotten he wasn¡¯t going to tell Antelmu about this. It was a dangerous thing to know about. He replied, ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t tell you much. Not because we don¡¯t trust you, but because Mother might kill you if she doesn¡¯t want you to know. She gave me strict warnings about it.¡±

    ¡°So, what is he?¡± asked Antelmu. ¡°I doubt I¡¯m ever going to meet Socks¡¯s mother.¡±

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t understand, she¡­ well, never mind. It¡¯s too late now. He¡¯s a dead wolf, Socks¡¯s grandfather, and he¡¯s trying to eat all the pups,¡± said Dirt. ¡°But really, you shouldn¡¯t learn too much about this.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but, is he a corpse? A skeleton? What is he?¡±

    ¡°No, he¡¯s a ghost. A spirit. But a very, very powerful one. Socks still has scars on his belly from being attacked.¡±

    ¡°Oh. If he¡¯s that powerful, then you can¡¯t just pray to the earth to take his corpse and the sky to take his spirit. The great ones persist on their own terms. The great ancestors are still around in the other worlds. We sacrifice to them every year. You might have to wait until he¡¯s born again.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you know about that?¡± asked Dirt. ¡°About being born again eventually?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Everyone does. You know what happens when you die, right?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°I honestly have no idea. The trees just told me that everyone has only one spirit, that only ever matches one body, and after you die, if the same body gets born somewhere, you get born with it,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Huh? The same body? No, that doesn¡¯t sound right. How would that even work?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, that¡¯s just what they said,¡± said Dirt. But that was a good question. How would the same body be born again, somewhere else? Did you have to have the same father? Maybe also the same mother? He¡¯d have to ask. But it was an intriguing idea. If the Devourer¡¯s body got born somewhere, would he be born into it, whether he wanted to or not? Actually, that¡¯s what he wanted, wasn¡¯t it? To come alive again.

    ¡°Huh,¡± thought Antelmu. ¡°Well, if he ever shows up, we can try to exorcise him. I know a few ways.¡±

    -If he shows up, both of you are certain to die, and I probably won¡¯t get away either,- said Socks. -It strains Father and Mother both to keep us alive when he appears. That is why we are running.-

    ¡°Socks, where do wolves go when you die?¡± asked Antelmu.

    -I shouldn¡¯t say. I don¡¯t think I was supposed to find out,- said Socks cryptically. He closed off part of his thoughts to make sure it stayed hidden. Dirt might have been able to slyly learn whatever it was; they played games about hiding thoughts like that all the time. But not for this, not on the rare occasion Socks wanted his privacy. And, aside from that, it might be the sort of thing Mother would kill him for learning.

    Antelmu showed impressive discipline and swallowed his curiosity. Dirt knew it wasn¡¯t easy and smiled gently to himself. The boy thought, ¡°So that¡¯s one thing. What else are you worried about, Dirt?¡±

    ¡°I think about the trees a lot, but I don¡¯t worry about them. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything that could harm them. But Socks and I left the forest and den and found some humans, and now I worry about the humans. I don¡¯t know how to save them all. They¡¯re all spread out, and everything in between is dangerous. I think they just need to be safer, and fed, and raise more children and spread out slowly until they can keep the roads safe. I don¡¯t think the whole empire will come back, and it probably shouldn¡¯t. We¡¯ll have to share with the wolves, and the trees, and only the gods know what else. So that¡¯s another thing.¡±

    ¡°Maxima protecting our tribe will help. My own brother got killed by a rucche. Maybe every group of humans just needs something to protect them. Some could be other strong humans,¡± thought Antelmu. Of course, he pictured himself doing it, atop a noble steed, spear in hand.

    ¡°Maybe. I don¡¯t know how to teach anyone magic and I don¡¯t know how to be strong without it. But that¡¯s already what some are doing. The duke has his knights. Maybe lots more knights.¡±

    ¡°Well, and our tribe has heroes, too. Strong ancestors. I¡¯ll tell you some stories later. But what else?¡±

    -The eye,- said Socks.

    ¡°The eye. When the world broke and the gods left, something else came peeking in the crack. I don¡¯t know what it is, but I do know it wants humans extinct,¡± said Dirt. ¡°The other problem is that, I¡¯m afraid if I try to fix the damage, the gods will come back and be angry, and fight the wolves and the trees and put everything back to how it was when humans only ever talked to other humans. And even worse, what if I break it even further and living becomes impossible anywhere?¡±

    ¡°Do you know how to fix it?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°No idea,¡± said Dirt. ¡°I only have a vague idea how I broke it in the first place. I learned a little at the Turris Solis, though.¡±

    Antelmu picked up on how Dirt took the blame, and a few things slid together for him. Dirt being called Avitus, and a vaguely remembered story about Avitus breaking the world. Dirt being a little boy with incredible power and an even more powerful friend, sometimes showing wisdom greater than the sages, and knowledge no one could match. He said nothing.

    -Are you going to tell him the rest? He just figured it out.- said Socks, to Dirt only.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He already doesn¡¯t know what to make of me. And it was nice having him think I just was a clueless little boy, because that¡¯s most of what I am,¡± replied Dirt, to Socks only.

    -No one thinks you are ¡°just¡± anything. Every human has found you strange. Most of them like you, though,- said Socks.

    ¡°I should go back to being naked and dirty all the time. I¡¯m not pulling off being civilized very well. May as well lean into my strengths,¡± said Dirt, grinning.

    -Fine with me. Once you grow enough fur to keep warm,- said Socks.

    Dirt snorted. ¡°Do you think Ignasi¡¯s chest is hairy enough to keep him warm?¡±

    -No, but he does have fat on his stomach. That padding should help.-

    Right beside them, Antelmu was concentrating as hard as he could. They noticed at the same time, then glanced at his mind to see what he was doing. But before they figured it out, he shouted, ¡°I saw something! A man with black hair and a beard, and a hairy chest. I saw it! I really did! You were talking about someone with each other, weren¡¯t you?¡±

    Dirt sat upright in a jolt. He looked down at the other boy, who had the joy of triumph on his face. ¡°Did he¡ª¡±

    -Yes. He cracked open his mind sight. I guess humans can learn it after all.-

 Volume IV - Chapter 18

    They stayed under Dirt¡¯s hasty shelter for a good portion of the morning, letting Antelmu practice seeing the thoughts of others and try to project his thoughts on his own. It wasn¡¯t easy or straightforward for him, since the faculty of mind sight hadn¡¯t completely opened. It had just slipped open a crack, just enough for things to squeeze in and out.

    Dirt could sense the blockage, and understood now how Socks had opened Dirt¡¯s with a tap of a claw and a little mental nudge. He was tempted to try the same on Antelmu and get it over with, but Socks disagreed. -Let¡¯s see if humans can develop it fully all on their own, or if they will always need help.-

    It turned out that Antelmu was able to press his mind sight slightly wider open on his own, after significant effort. It wore him out mentally and gave him a headache around the same time the rain diminished to a gentle drizzle.

    Socks decided it was time to leave. He tossed the shelter aside out of nowhere, then got up and shook his fur. After only minor preparations, they were ready to go.

    Dirt¡¯s clothes were still wet, so he kept wearing Biandina¡¯s old ones, even though they were comically longer than his limbs. The thick fur around all the openings kept him from rolling them up, so he just had to let them dangle and give up on using his hands for anything. Socks tossed him high in the air and told him to flap hard to see if he could fly like a bird, but it didn¡¯t work, and it made Antelmu nervous.

    That did give Dirt the idea that maybe he could craft clothing that would make it easier for an air elemental to carry him, and perhaps let him steer and even land safely. He¡¯d have to give that some thought. But if he could manage that, the elementals might take him anywhere he wanted to go, without relying on root travel or Socks to carry him. Not that he planned on going anywhere without Socks any time soon.

    The pup put both boys on his back and once they were holding on, left at a good run. The day passed without anything that stood out. Just travel, mostly, while hiding in Socks¡¯s fur to avoid the freezing rain. Antelmu practiced his mind sight whenever his headache let him, and even drifted off into shallow naps throughout the day. Dirt supposed it was simply more tiring than it deserved to be, at least until he got it all the way open.

    Curiously, the thing that drove Antelmu to keep practicing his mind sight with such determination wasn¡¯t knowing the thoughts of others, or even conversing easier with Dirt and Socks. Nothing like that. No, the thing that he wanted to achieve had to do with horses. That was what he kept coming back to. Speaking to the horse directly, knowing all its thoughts without having to judge based on body language and context. He would be the greatest rider ever, with the greatest spear. True heroics¡ªliving a legendary life¡ªwas no longer just a fantasy or a dream anymore. It was already underway.

    As the day pressed onward, Antelmu¡¯s plans grew more involved. He didn¡¯t explain any of it aloud, content to let Dirt and Socks see what he was plotting and ask questions if they had any; but he reasoned that if he could learn to see thoughts, then he could teach others, and that was probably true.

    And if he could do that, then he could lead a band of warrior horsemen, each of them communing with their own horses. They would outwit and outmaneuver every enemy. No beast or pack of ragnuli would best them. They could raid the neighboring tribes, and never be short on¡ªWell, no, he shouldn¡¯t plan on that, not if he was going to help Dirt save all the humans together. But no one would raid his tribe ever again.

    It was quite entertaining to watch Antelmu¡¯s thoughts, it turned out, and Dirt learned more from it than he expected. How humans did ambushes, and how to get a horse to go where you wanted. Care and maintenance of the animals, which was a whole process. Dirt would never have guessed¡ªSocks needed to maintenance at all, although he did like being raked. And fed. How human society worked in small groups. One man took the lead, but he had to act wisely or they would abandon him.

    One thing that stood out above most of the rest, was the idea of skill with weapons. Dirt had been right to suspect there was a whole art to it. A human body moved in a particular way, and when two humans fought it was as much about outmaneuvering the other man¡¯s weapon as it was who was stronger. Skill might not matter in a fight between an adult and a child, or between Dirt and a regular person, but otherwise, it mattered greatly. Antelmu even thought about drills to ensure that everyone got enough practice. In fact, leading others in mundane tasks was the majority of what he pictured himself doing.

    The afternoon was full of rain again, but only for a few minutes each time as Socks ran. It would be raining hard in one spot but not the next, and Socks struggled to use ghost sight to avoid the worst of it. That wasn¡¯t easy, because weather seldom manifested on that landscape, save only the thickest of storms. But it was all Socks had and it was better than nothing, so he did the best he could.

    A day passed, and another. The weather might be making travel unpleasant, but with the ground Socks covered each day, it seemed less and less likely that Caeso was still out there somewhere, lurking nearby until he saw the chance to come drink Dirt¡¯s blood.

    Another day passed, a rainy one, and after that the weather turned cold again. In the morning, all the wet ground was slick with ice, and the weather stayed cold for several days after that, leaving loudly crunchy ice and snow everywhere Socks stepped.

    Dirt had Antelmu teach him human skills from time to time, like how to tie various kinds of knots, and how to shoot a bow. Dirt had no knack for that, it turned out, and only got a little practice before he missed a target and shattered an arrowhead on a rock. After that, he had to make all his own arrows, but wood shaping made that task so easy that Antelmu started practicing hiding his envious thoughts.

    The landscape was poor for the next several days, rough and jagged with rocks and thorny vines and not enough vegetation. Antelmu remarked mentally, ¡°If I had to travel here, I¡¯d probably walk my horse instead of ride it. Are your paws getting sore, Socks?¡±

    -They would be, but I am using mana.-

    Strangely, the area was teeming with prey, from countless tiny mammals to herds of goats that were all ornery and tried to fight back. Dirt slid down and butted heads with them, strengthening himself with mana. More than once, they knocked him head over heels, since they were heavier than he was and unexpectedly strong. If not for the horns, Dirt thought they might make great pets. Socks had a great time jumping away and watching them miss and once he was done playing, he ate more than he should have. The next day he walked rather than ran, afraid he was going to be sick.

    Once they were out of the unpleasant, rocky area, the landscape became large mounds, almost too tall to be called hills, one after the other as far as they could see. Most had ridges of stone jutting out that cut straight lines across the side of an otherwise smoothly curving lump. Socks speculated that long ago, the area might have been flat until something like Father had a big fight here and tore it all up. Dirt thought it was too uniform and spread out for that to be the case, though. It would have had to have been a fight that stretched miles and miles in every direction and did the exact same thing everywhere.

    They hadn¡¯t gone far into the hills before heavy snow began to fall, and after the three of them had accumulated three inches of it on their heads they decided to call it a day, even though it was hardly midafternoon. Antelmu and Dirt made a smaller shelter with a blanket and some sticks.

    The next day, they started at first light, when the sky was still purple where it could be seen through the clouds. The snow was thick and a chill wind promised to bring more, and Dirt started getting sick of winter.

    Around midday, Socks smelled smoke and turned sharply to go see what it was. Dirt nearly held his breath in anticipation of meeting yet more humans as Socks bounded eagerly across the hills, following the scent where it wove gently in the dips between them. They came upon an open area, a hollow where it looked like a single hill was missing amongst all the others.

    A ring of stones had been erected, with stones across the gaps like lintels over doors. The gaps were narrow, only wide enough for a man to squeeze through, and outside, six horses had been tied and given bags of feed to eat while they waited. A hot fire glowed inside the ring, sending a plume of smoke straight up into the sky until it turned sharply where the wind overhead caught it.

    Inside the ring of stones, at least six humans sat around the fire, chatting calmly. Dirt couldn¡¯t get a good look at them through the gaps, but they looked to be wearing clothing similar to what he and Antelmu had on.

    The boys slid down at the same time and started heading over. Socks stayed back and told the horses to ignore him and mind their own business, lest they try to flee and hurt themselves.

    ¡°This is a meeting place for different tribes. I know of one back near our lands. The openings are narrow to make it hard to bring weapons inside. You¡¯re supposed to leave them out,¡± thought Antelmu. He scuffed his feet on the snow to make a sound, and for the first time, the men inside noticed the new arrivals. From the fact no one screamed, they didn¡¯t spot Socks.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Dirt looked at their minds and discovered they were surprised. They were expecting a different group entirely, from a different direction. Dirt and Antelmu were a complete mystery, a potentially threatening one. What were two unknown boys doing out here?

    Antelmu took off the bow tied over his shoulder and set it down, then raised his palms to show his hands were empty. ¡°Take off your dagger,¡± he told Dirt, speaking aloud.

    Dirt stomped some snow flat to put his knife on so it¡¯d be easy to find again later. Then he raised his palms and grinned eagerly. ¡°Here we go again!¡± he thought. His fourth group of humans!

    Antelmu gave Dirt a little smirk, as if he was an expert on humans, not just his one tribe. The older boy walked through the gap, his shoulders just narrow enough he didn¡¯t have to turn sideways, and boldly went up to the nearest man and held his right hand out.

    The man, who as far as Dirt could tell was indistinguishable from Antelmu¡¯s people, hesitantly clasped it and shook. ¡°This is a sign that our hands will hold no weapons while we¡¯re here,¡± explained Antelmu mentally.

    Dirt nodded and stepped forward, holding his own hand out. The man clasped it hard and shook, not without a hint of amusement in his eyes. Then they hand to shake the hands of the other five men, going around the circle. All that time, no one spoke.

    Once that was done, they all sat around the fire again, the men staring in unabashed curiosity at the two of them. Dirt kept a smile on his face, but not too big of one, lest he look silly. Then, finally, the moment he¡¯d been nervously waiting for. A man with no hood hanging off the back of his coat said, ¡°So, what tribe are you from?¡±

    He spoke with a thick accent, but it was Biandina¡¯s tongue. The words were similar, but they came out of his mouth with an odd shape to them. He sounded like he was talking with a little rock under his tongue or something. Thank Grace, Dirt would be able to understand it without any help.

    Antelmu said, ¡°We aren¡¯t here to represent any tribe, but my people live far to the east, past the wolves¡¯ territory, if you know where that is. We are the people of the stone house.¡±

    ¡°Never heard of it. Where is the wolves¡¯ territory? There are wolves everywhere,¡± asked a second man, shorter, but burly.

    ¡°Wait, really? There are lots of wolves here?¡± Dirt blurted out.

    ¡°They won¡¯t come near the fire or the horses, little boy. Nothing to fear,¡± said the first man.

    Antelmu, avoiding getting sidetracked, said, ¡°It¡¯s far to the east, like I said. And my tribe is even farther than that. You have to cross the rocky plains, then the normal ones, and the wolves claimed the mountains past the plains. There was a great city there once.¡±

    ¡°No, hold on, why would wolves care about fire or horses?¡± said Dirt.

    There was an uncomfortable moment while the men looked at each other, unsure how to answer. ¡°They don¡¯t like those things. If you want to know why, you¡¯ll have to ask them,¡± said a third man, who chuckled.

    ¡°Do you talk to them often?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°I only tell them, go away, go away! When they get near my sheep. Sometimes with an arrow,¡± said the third man again. He reminded Dirt of Ignasi, somehow, despite the lack of a beard.

    ¡°I can¡¯t picture anyone doing that,¡± said Dirt. ¡°How are you still alive?¡±

    ¡°I think they¡¯re talking about ragnuli, not wolves,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°No, we are talking about wolves. Ragnuli are heavier and stunted, with arched backs, yes?¡± asked the first man.

    ¡°Yes, but¡ª¡± said Dirt, biting his tongue.

    ¡°We are not talking about ragnuli. Those are a different creature. What do you think a wolf is?¡± asked the third man.

    ¡°How do I describe it? I¡¯d say they¡¯re shaped sort of like dogs, but that would offend them. The adults have black fur and the pups are gray, and they¡¯re huge,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°That sounds about right. And they hunt in packs and go after our livestock,¡± said the first man.

    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t try to stop them,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Of course I do! Why should I let them get my sheep?¡± said the first man. All of them seemed somewhat off balance, torn between humor and curiosity.

    ¡°I¡¯m so confused,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Me too,¡± said Antelmu.

    They both waited for Socks to pipe up and say something, but he never did. Dirt twisted around and the big pup was nowhere to be seen. He was probably ducked down behind the nearest hill and watching with great amusement. There was no way these men would try to chase him off, if they saw him. Right?

    ¡°Let¡¯s move on,¡± said the first man. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    Antelmu looked at Dirt to see who should answer, then said, ¡°We¡¯re making our way west, toward a giant forest. Dirt is from there, and we¡¯re taking him home. We found this place by accident. My father is Demetriu and my name is Antelmu.¡±

    ¡°My name is Eramu,¡± said the first man.

    ¡°I¡¯m Felici,¡± said the third.

    ¡°Larenzu,¡± said the second man.

    Antelmu nodded sagely and asked, ¡°Are you here to meet with another tribe?¡±

    Eramu said, ¡°Our tribe sends a delegation each year for half a moon, but it¡¯s been more than a generation since the other tribe showed up. Mostly we¡¯re here out of tradition, and to get away from our wives.¡±

    The other men all snickered at that, eyes sparkling.

    ¡°Our tribe hasn¡¯t had contact with any others in years, either. Maybe not even since I was born,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a while, but it¡¯s nice not to have to argue about grazing rights,¡± said Eramu. The sparkle was gone from his eyes, though.

    ¡°Did you know humans are dying out all over the world?¡± asked Antelmu. His voice was unsteady, and to Dirt he sounded like he was trying to be confident in front of the adults and not quite pulling it off.

    ¡°Where did you hear that?¡± asked one of the men who hadn¡¯t said anything yet.

    ¡°I heard it from¡­ well, everybody knows, don¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t speak for yours, but our tribe is growing. Do you have everything you need? Feed for your horses? Or for yourselves?¡± asked Felici. Dirt glanced at his mind, and he wasn¡¯t quite telling the truth. It bothered him that the other tribe never showed up.

    ¡°We have plenty, thanks,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°But we haven¡¯t cooked anything in a while. I have salt I can share, if you have fresh meat to roast. All our meat is dried.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever had gryphon?¡± asked Eramu quietly, as if revealing something marvellous.

    ¡°No, but I¡¯ve heard of them. We don¡¯t have any where I¡¯m from, we have rucce. Do you know what those are?¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°If we do, we don¡¯t call them that. Do you mean the giant birds with black feathers? That¡¯s the only thing I can think of that¡¯s like a gryphon.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the ones. What do you call them?¡±

    ¡°The big vultures. A gryphon is a little smaller, but still about twice the size of a horse. Not twice the height, but twice as big overall. They have four legs instead of two like other birds,¡± said Eramu.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen them. I have a scar on my leg from one,¡± said Dirt.

    It was clear from their reactions that they didn¡¯t believe him. He wasn¡¯t sure what to do about that.

    Socks said, -They were right. Two men are on horses, and they are dragging a dead gryphon on a big flat wooden thing that slides on the snow.-

    Dirt looked around, and no one else had heard that. He replied, ¡°How close are they?¡±

    -Very close.-

    Dirt stood up and said, ¡°Well, shall we go greet them? Your two riders are almost here. Antelmu has never seen a gryphon.¡±

    The others all stayed put. Larenzu said, ¡°They¡¯ll be here soon enough. No reason to get impatient.¡±

    ¡°No, really, they¡¯re almost here,¡± said Dirt.

    Antelmu got up and said, ¡°If Dirt says they¡¯re almost here, they¡¯re almost here.¡±

    ¡°How would he know?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a strange little boy, is how,¡± said Antelmu. He got up and followed Dirt back outside. The others remained sitting.

    -Other direction,- said Socks.

    Dirt and Antelmu hurriedly moved around the stone circle, which really was larger than they thought now that they had to go around it, and waited. No more than ten breaths later, a man called from nearby, just around the hill.

    The others rose and shuffled out, giving sideways glances down at Dirt, all of them wondering whether he¡¯d heard something they hadn¡¯t, or just gotten lucky.

    Soon after, two riders arrived in the hollow between the hills, horses straining to pull something bulky by ropes. When it got a bit closer, it was a large, flat wooden surface with two logs underneath to drag across the snow. It left a clear trail, and Dirt supposed it was easier to drag that way.

    The men greeted each other warmly and excitement filled the air as they set about getting the ropes loose. The gryphon was folded up on the sled in such a way that it looked like a large pile of red and yellow feathers, but once the men untied the ropes holding it down, its form unraveled and Antelmu¡¯s eyes widened.

    It was indeed bigger than a horse, significantly so, nearly as large as Socks was when he first found Dirt. Its long talons were black and sleek, and its enormous beak hung open to reveal a surprisingly fleshy tongue, still damp.

    ¡°We found the nest at the luckiest possible time. Still took all eight of us to bring it down,¡± said Larenzu with pride.

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°And deadly. If it wasn¡¯t nesting, we would never have tried. If you ever see one of these, drop whatever you¡¯re carrying and run,¡± said Eramu.

    -I want to come smell it. Tell the humans not to run away or be scared,- said Socks.

    Dirt nodded and said, ¡°Is it okay if our friend the wolf comes to smell it? He won¡¯t hurt anybody. And he won¡¯t eat the gryphon, unless you give him some.¡±

    Felici spun around, perplexed. ¡°What do you mean, your pet wolf? You had one the whole time? What were all those questions, then?¡±

    ¡°Just¡­ promise you won¡¯t run away. Stay calm. He¡¯s friendly, if you¡¯re friendly,¡± said Dirt, holding his hands up in a conciliatory manner.

    ¡°If he bites someone, I¡¯ll kill him, but it¡¯s up to you,¡± said Eramu.

    Socks came up over the hill where he¡¯d been hiding, his dark gray form creating a looming shadow. One by one, the men froze in terror as the great wolf gently padded down and came closer.

    ¡°No reason to be afraid,¡± said Dirt. ¡°His name is Socks.¡±

    Not that speaking would do any good. No amount of explanation could prepare someone to meet Socks for the first time. But the warning had at least helped, because although the men backed away as fast as they could, none of them screamed or peed himself.

    Socks was amused; Dirt could tell from his ears. -Hello, little humans.- He walked slowly, since moving too quickly was one way to seem scarier, until he reached the sled. He leaned down and gave the dead gryphon a good sniff, then another, moving around it and smelling it from beak to tailfeathers.

    -I have never gotten this close to one before. They are interesting creatures. Did you know this one was a female with a nest with an egg? That must be how you killed it.-

    Dirt could almost feel Antelmu¡¯s mind working without looking. The boy froze, then nearly jumped. ¡°It has an egg? Is it still alive?¡±

    ¡°We didn¡¯t touch the egg,¡± whispered one man, trying and failing to speak.

    ¡°I want it! I want that egg! Can we go see if it¡¯s alive, Socks? Please? I have the best idea! Please?¡± said Antelmu, nearly shouting in excitement.

    -Why not? Hop on.-

 Volume IV - Chapter 19

    Antelmu rode in front this time, which he¡¯d never done. Typically he was content to sit right behind Dirt resting his arms over his shoulders, or stretch out and lay down on Socks¡¯ back and watch the sky.

    Not now. He was more anxious than Dirt or Socks had ever seen him, his mind sparking with a hundred jumbled thoughts. He sat up a bit and held his face sternly against the wind, feeling like a horseman, and thought aloud, ¡°Dirt, can you get ready to make some hot lights? We¡¯ll need to warm it up if it¡¯s alive. Once it¡¯s warm, we can cover it with more of Biandina¡¯s clothes. Although, I don¡¯t know how big it will be. And Socks, can you make sure there¡¯s nothing else that¡¯ll come get it? Everything eats eggs so we might have to fight. And I only have one good arm right now. Please?¡±

    Dirt and Socks agreed to basically anything he asked, more amused at how serious he was than anything. And it was an intriguing idea, certainly, trying to raise a gryphon.

    Socks followed the trail easily enough and could have found the nest by sight even if he didn¡¯t have the scent to follow. That sled left a track of flattened snow big enough it might as well have been a paved road.

    The run was not a long one; just around five or six tall hills. Socks was hardly panting by the time they got there. The nest was clearly visible, a giant pile of twigs and grass and all sorts of things, atop flat rock outcropping big enough for Socks to lay down on.

    The scene around the nest was a violent one. There had been a bigger fight than the men had let on, although it didn¡¯t look like the humans were involved in most of it. The snow was torn up all around the nest, with stray feathers of red and gray and white and smears of darkening blood.

    Antelmu tried to jump down to run up to the nest faster while Socks looked around, but the pup grabbed him and put him back, then jumped up himself. He landed with his front paws on the rim of the nest and grabbed Antelmu to put him down gently, right next to an enormous white egg, at least two feet across at the widest, decorated all over with spots of red and gold.

    ¡°It¡¯s alive!¡± shouted Antelmu, and he was right. All three of them saw the tiny mind of the poor little creature, just a spark. The only thing its semi conscious mind perceived was that it was cold. Antelmu recognized that at the same as the others and shouted, ¡°Hurry, warm it up! Warm it up!¡± He stood and raced back to beckon Dirt more directly.

    Dirt hopped down, twigs and branches crunching loudly beneath him, and knelt to get a closer look. The egg was cold, but cold was relative; the spot was still noticeably warmer than the rest of the landscape. The egg rested on a comfortable padding of soft down and grasses mashed into a cushion, and from the shape of the nest, Dirt figured the mother would rest with it under her chest, not the middle of her stomach. And now that he thought about it, gryphons did have a bigger tuft of feathers there than other places.

    -I smell rucche here as well as gryphon and human. I think the nest got attacked, and the humans killed the mother after the fight was over.-

    ¡°That would explain the mess,¡± said Dirt. He snapped his fingers a few times to summon lights, then turned them quickly into warming embers and had them hover near the shell.

    Antelmu rested a reverent hand on the egg and stared so intently it looked like he could see inside. And in a sense, he could; Dirt quickly realized he was watching the egg¡¯s mind, waiting for it to stop feeling cold. Dirt joined him and kept a careful eye.

    Socks suddenly stood straight and wagged his tail, ears twitching. His entire demeanor changed to pure excitement, such that both boys looked up at him, confused. Before Dirt even asked he said, -It is Mother! She is no longer resting and is watching me again. She says Father already returned to the den and left for the mountains.-

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s nice. How long has it been? A few months?¡± asked Dirt.

    -Since it started cooling off after summer.-

    ¡°That long? I didn¡¯t realize.¡±

    -You do not talk to her as often as I did.-

    ¡°Does he mean his mother? One of the giant ones you told me about?¡± whispered Antelmu aloud.

    Dirt nodded, a sly grin breaking out on his face. He wasn¡¯t sure whether Mother or Father was more likely to warn Socks about any serious trouble he came across, but it was nice to know they were watching. And Socks really did look pleased now. He practically radiated happiness, head dipping up and down and tail wagging like he wanted to go for a run.

    The big pup turned and raced up to the top of the hill and gave a long howl, even though Mother was surely too far away to hear it. Dirt and Antelmu let him be, smiling to each other. Antelmu¡¯s smile faltered, though, and he tried to hide his thoughts for the first time. He suddenly missed his own mother, even though she had usually been mean, and all his siblings. Dirt pretended not to see it.

    Once the egg stopped feeling cold, they bundled it tightly in Biandina¡¯s coat, which was just big enough to get the job done.

    ¡°Do you know anything about raising gryphons?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°No, we don¡¯t have them where I¡¯m from. I¡¯ve only ever heard about them from you. That dead one was the first one I saw,¡± said Antelmu. He sat with his bottom on the ground and crossed his legs, settling in while he tried to resist patting the egg some more.

    ¡°Then where did you get the idea to hatch an egg?¡±

    ¡°I thought of it right then,¡± said Antelmu, his plastered smile turning into a genuine, mischievous grin.

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Sort of,¡± said Antelmu. He shifted his weight and looked like he had more to say, so Dirt kept quiet. Once his thoughts were in order, he said, ¡°Okay, I¡¯m going to teach you something. Do you know the difference between tame and domesticated?¡±

    ¡°Is there one?¡±

    ¡°Yep. Tame is when you raise an animal to like you. Domesticated is different. You can tame a ragnuli, if you find a pup. But it will only ever accept you, and if you don¡¯t treat it carefully it might turn wild again and eat you anyway. I¡¯ve never seen anyone do it but I know people have.

    ¡°That¡¯s different from a dog. Dogs aren¡¯t like that. Once you train a dog, it¡¯ll know not to bite anyone, not just you. And it won¡¯t turn wild out of nowhere. Dogs are made to live with humans. Same as sheep. Or horses. But horses are a little different. They¡¯re born wild, but once you train them, they¡¯re domesticated, not just tamed. Anyone can ride a trained horse, not just its master.

    Dirt wondered if Socks had overstepped and become slightly tame, against Mother¡¯s early warnings. He wasn¡¯t ever going to bite Dirt or attack him, and that¡¯s apparently what tame meant. But that shouldn¡¯t count, since if anyone asked, Dirt was the pet, not Socks.

    Antelmu continued, ¡°Gryphons aren¡¯t domesticated, I¡¯m sure, or we would have them already. But I bet I can tame one, if I raise it from a chick. My babbu raised quail one year and they would come when he called them. So I know how to do it.¡±

    ¡°It can¡¯t be that easy, though,¡± said Dirt. ¡°They¡¯re huge. And they¡¯re smart. Almost as smart as humans, I think, from the few times I got close to one.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and do you know what the hardest thing about raising any animal is?¡± asked Antelmu, his eyes sparkling with boyish enthusiasm.

    ¡°Feeding them?¡±

    ¡°Knowing what they¡¯re thinking, and making sure they understand you,¡± said Antelmu.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dirt. ¡°That seems obvious, now that you say it.¡± He gazed with his mental sight at the tiny little mind, safe and warm and placid.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°I can see its thoughts. I¡¯m going to ride it. It¡¯s shaped like a horse with wings.¡±

    The older boy stretched out his hand then to stroke the egg. Dirt watched him already growing affectionate with it. In part with the thing it was, since seeing its mind made it real in a way a blank egg couldn¡¯t be, and in part with what he hoped it would become.

    ¡°If it¡¯s a female, then I¡¯ll mate her somehow and help raise the chicks, and if it¡¯s male, then I¡¯ll figure something else out. Because if I could get a whole flock, then I could have my own warband. We wouldn¡¯t even need Maxima to protect us then. I¡¯ll have to teach some others how to see minds,¡± said Antelmu. His eyes grew distant as he talked, imagining. ¡°I¡¯ll have to practice my archery, but we could hunt anything. Except wolves. We could have even fought that¡­ Eye.¡±

    Dirt considered that. The duke¡¯s knights were indeed an incredible fighting force, but they took a lot of maintenance. Each man needed help from several others to get his armor on and off, for instance. So he doubted it would be as easy as Antelmu thought, but honestly, that was more planning than Dirt had done for anything, so far.

    Antelmu had asked earlier what Dirt¡¯s larger plans were and how he was going to actually save humanity. Well, honestly, he didn¡¯t know. He didn¡¯t have plans. He had a few goals, but was hoping the goals would be clearer with time and ideas would come to him when he needed them. But here was Antelmu, acting on a whim and already thinking twenty years ahead.

    So what could Dirt do, anyway? Avitus had been the master of the Collegium Magorum, which Dirt figured was some sort of training organization for mages. But it felt like that didn¡¯t quite cover it. He¡¯d had prestige and respect and wealth, too. Not just students. And he¡¯d had powerful friends who matched him in intellect, if not ambition.

    Well, that gave Dirt his crazy idea, one he¡¯d already had rolling around but never given much time to. He would start a new Collegium, but instead of the College of Mages, it would be called something else. He¡¯d have to think about a name. Firstly, he¡¯d have to think about exactly what it was for, and who would be in it.

    That wasn¡¯t hard. It should be for people like him and Socks, obviously. People traveling around having adventures and helping humans, slowly making the world livable again. Exploring and learning. Maybe finding old treasures and making them new again. Old places. Old ideas. All sorts of people could join, since he would have many different roles to fill. He could teach new mages, but they¡¯d just be one part of it. Fighters like the Duke¡¯s knights and gryphon masters like Antelmu was hoping to be, if they¡¯d join. The College of¡­ something. It would come to him. But he smiled to himself, because the more he thought about it, the more right it felt. He would need something to watch over when he was grown, or he wouldn¡¯t feel like himself.

    -Mother says you are not ready to hatch an egg like that, and it will likely die,- said Socks, coming back down.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying it anyway. If you¡¯ll let me,¡± said Antelmu. He showed a hint of fear on his face and leaned a bit closer to his egg.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be too upset,¡± thought Dirt. ¡°I suspect when Mother says things like that, she¡¯s secretly hoping to be proven wrong. She told Socks I was probably going to die, too, and here I am.¡±

    -Mother says that you have to turn the egg four times every day, or it¡¯ll die. And you have to keep it warm, but if you get it too warm it¡¯ll die, and the difference between just right and dead is only a little bit warmer. She says eggs breathe, so you can¡¯t wrap it tightly or keep it covered,- said Socks. His mental voice sounded tentative, like he wasn¡¯t fully convinced either. It did sound like more work than they realized.

    ¡°That¡¯s nothing. I¡¯ll do it, if you¡¯ll help. And if you don¡¯t want to, I understand. Maybe you can leave me with those men, and they can help me, even though I¡¯m not from their tribe,¡± said Antelmu.

    Socks wasn¡¯t quite done yet, though. He said, -Mother says that it won¡¯t hatch for two more months, and if you mess up even once, it¡¯ll die. When it hatches, it¡¯ll be helpless and blind, but its beak will still be sharp, and you¡¯ll have to watch it always and keep it warm and dry. You¡¯ll have to feed it strips of meat all day long while it¡¯s awake, a little at a time every few minutes until it opens its eyes, or it will get sick. That will take a few weeks. Then you can feed it slower and slower until it¡¯s every few hours, but more at once.

    -It won¡¯t fly for a whole year. It won¡¯t even try. But all that time it¡¯ll be a little baby with a will of its own. You¡¯ll have to watch it and protect it. And after a year when its feathers harden, it will be hard to keep track of and probably die then if it didn¡¯t already. It won¡¯t fly far, but you can¡¯t fly at all to go find it.-

    Antelmu nodded, intimidated but still resolute. He could do this. He¡¯d been watching little children his whole life, and his own horse on top of that. And helped train more than one brood of dogs.

    -You will have to feed it a whole animal every day, which means you¡¯ll have to spend all your free time hunting and hoping it stays safe. Some in the morning, and some in the evening. Gryphons store their food.

    -Also, Mother says it¡¯ll be ten years before it¡¯s full grown. They grow faster than humans but slower than wolves. It will be able to hunt on its own after three or four years, but only safely once it¡¯s five years old. If you can get it to be five years old, then it¡¯ll probably survive. Once it gets close to full grown, then you can ride it, but not before, even if it looks big enough. Its bones are lighter and they will be fragile until it is an adult. Oh, and I can smell that it¡¯s a male.-

    Antelmu swallowed and nodded, his face growing paler as it sunk in. But he shook slightly and sat up straighter and said, ¡°I can do all that. I will.¡±

    -Mother says gryphons are smart, and that means they are trouble. He will have his own opinions about everything and you will never be his master like a human with a dog or horse. You will have to convince him and negotiate often. He will also not accept being left behind. If you raise him, you will have to keep him until one of you dies.-

    ¡°Is this even possible? Will he accept me at all?¡± asked Antelmu.

    -Mother says they are very loyal creatures. Just a lot of work. So I think if he likes you when he is little, he will like you when he grows up,- said Socks. -I think he will be your friend.-

    ¡°It sounds like she¡¯s trying to talk me out of it,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°Is this a bad idea?¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°No, you have it wrong. She¡¯s telling you it¡¯s hard, but she¡¯s giving you directions so you¡¯ll be ready. Mother is incredibly generous sometimes. Now you know exactly what to do, don¡¯t you?¡±

    -Mother thinks this is funny. She stopped watching for a short time to rest, and now we are very far away playing in the snow and the new human I picked up wants to adopt a gryphon,- said Socks. He leaned down to sniff the egg once more, then pulled Biandina¡¯s coat away with his teeth to let the egg breathe.

    ¡°Well, exploring and causing trouble is our job, so I hope she¡¯s happy. How are your siblings doing? Did she say?¡± asked Dirt.

    -Big Sister is in Ogena now getting her own harness so she can have pockets. The humans are more scared of her than they were of me because she¡¯s so much bigger than I was, but they are being friendly, and she brought them some cattle for a trade. Big Brother and Little Brother went to the mountains where Father is now. Little Sister went to the desert and is trying to find her own pet human, but there are no spare ones yet and she is afraid if she just steals one, that will make it sad.-

    Antelmu snorted playfully and said, ¡°She¡¯s right about that. Getting kidnapped would be a bad start.¡± He never took his eyes off the egg, except to glance at Biandina¡¯s coat, tempted to put it back on.

    No one spoke for a time while they considered their prospects. Antelmu¡¯s mind buzzed with all the things he¡¯d have to do, and what it would mean. Ten years was a long, long time. Would it be worth it? Would it work out in the end? Where would he get enough food? And more immediately, were Dirt and Socks going to help him keep it warm?

    -Something is coming,- said Socks.

    Both boys shot to their feet and looked around. They didn¡¯t hear or see anything until a moment later, when a bloodied and bedraggled gryphon slumped over the crest of the hill and made its way toward them, partially sliding as it came down the snowy incline. It was injured and torn and missing an entire wing, and left a trail of fresh blood. Every move it made exuded pain. It saw them with its one remaining eye and tried to give out a screech, but it was more of a haggard groan. It screeched again, a little more forcefully, and sped up.

    -I think that¡¯s the father of this egg. I said I smelled rucche here and I think it must have lost a fight. Or won, since it¡¯s still alive. Barely,- said Socks, his mental voice somewhere between pity and wariness. The creature didn¡¯t look like much of a threat anymore, but you never knew.

    The closer it got, the more it drew on whatever final reserves of energy it had, clearly intending to give its last to fend off the threat to its egg. Dirt and Socks stepped back and got ready for a fight, but Antelmu stood and gently put the coat back over the egg, then leaned down and hugged it. He looked up at the gryphon and held his breath.

    Then he gathered all his mental focus and spoke directly to the gryphon¡¯s mind, sending the emotions of love and protectiveness, which he didn¡¯t have to force himself to feel. He included a mental picture of himself guarding the egg, keeping it warm until it hatched.

    The male gryphon didn¡¯t quite understand, since it didn¡¯t recognize the thoughts as coming from outside itself at first. But Antelmu repeated it even more sincerely, in a way that felt like begging. Pleading. He gently rested his head on the egg again and held it tight.

    The gryphon¡¯s walk slowed until it stopped, not even a step away. The massive beast loomed over the boy, open wounds steaming. Socks was ready to kill it the second it struck, but Antelmu stood slowly and reached his hand out. The gryphon made a gurgling sound, a gentle and plaintive call. It lowered its head to meet Antelmu¡¯s hand, and the boy patted it gently on the enormous beak, and then the side of its head where it wasn¡¯t injured. He sent the pure emotion of loving that egg with all his might and keeping it safe, and said, ¡°Let me take it from here.¡±

    The gryphon lowered itself to the ground, face only a step away from the egg, and gave one breath, then another, and died.

    -Well,- said Socks, -I guess you¡¯re committed now, aren¡¯t you, little Antelmu?-

 Volume IV - Chapter 20

    Daylight was fading, so they decided to spend the night right there. They already had a nest here, after all, and the egg looked quite content where it was.

    The first thing Antelmu wanted to do was rotate it all by himself, but that proved nearly impossible with his broken wrist. The brace Dirt had placed over it was doing its job, and Antelmu insisted he could feel it healing and that it seldom hurt anymore. He could flex his fingers normally, as far as the brace would let him. But that didn¡¯t mean his hand had any strength in it. Any amount of serious weight made him wince and turn green.

    Even if Antelmu¡¯s wrist had been fine, the egg weighed nearly as much as he did and there was nowhere to grab it. It was the wrong shape to get his arms under and pick it up. He tried hugging it all the way around from the top, squeezing it with his arms as much as his hands. Then by twisting his torso, found he could rotate it by inches. It wasn¡¯t easy and both Dirt and Socks were growing more concerned that he was going to crack it by leaning on it too hard.

    After a moment of watching him struggle in frustration, Dirt suggested, ¡°Why don¡¯t you roll it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want the shell to crack. I don¡¯t know how tough it is,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°Then roll it on something soft instead of just the ground,¡± said Dirt.

    The older boy looked like he was happy to try anything but that, out of annoyed petulance, but quickly decided it was a good idea after all. The nest was big enough for two gryphons to snuggle together and most of the inside was softened with whatever packing material the beasts could find. Grass and chewed fibers from plants, tufts of fur from different-colored animals, and even large feathers that didn¡¯t match this pair of gryphons.

    Antelmu rearranged the floor to create a little furrow for the egg to roll in and piled some extra padding at the far end so it wouldn¡¯t go too far on accident. Then he got under it and lifted. It barely moved, and he had to stop because it still put pressure on his wrist. What finally did the trick was sitting with his back against it and pushing with his legs. Thank Grace, the egg held together. It was probably sturdier than it seemed, but no one wanted to find out the hard way.

    After that, Antelmu stood with his hands on his hips, anxiously scowling at the interior of the nest. Dirt and Socks looked at his thoughts, obviously, and now he was concerned that he wouldn¡¯t be able to start a fire to keep it warm without burning the whole nest down.

    ¡°I wish we had a dryad around right now,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°They told me they can see temperature with their eyes. They were upset that I got too cold, once,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°Okay, here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. I¡¯ll make a little tent around it, and then¡­ I guess I can dig down to the stone and build a fire down there. The tent should catch the heat if it¡¯s pointed right. Then I¡¯ll just have to make sure it doesn¡¯t get too hot or cold.¡± Would that even work? He wasn¡¯t sure. Increasing levels of trepidation crept into his voice as it grew more and more apparent just how hard his task was going to be. He thought himself capable, but all the little details were turning out to be big details. The dead gryphon lying right over there just made it worse. He almost wanted to apologize to it.

    ¡°I might need a hand with some of this,¡± he finally admitted.

    Socks snorted. -If you were with your tribe, you would rely on them to help you. Can you hunt while you keep it warm? Can you watch it day and night without sleeping? Do not be silly.-

    Antelmu nodded, relieved, and said, ¡°Dirt, can you help me make a little tent to cover it? I can¡¯t wrap it in a blanket and I don¡¯t have any loose cloth it can breathe through.¡±

    Socks preempted all of that by settling down and curling up over the egg. Then he looked smugly at Antelmu, who grinned sheepishly and said, ¡°That works for tonight, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    -If I let one of you stay up to watch it, you will be grumpy and annoying. Or sleep all day.-

    Dirt quoted, ¡°Dig harrows in the earth. Cause havoc. Turn rivers from their courses. Leave fields of bones behind you.¡± Then his mouth giggled while his mind thought, ¡°Nest on an egg like a mother bird.¡±

    -You forgot the last part. Explore and return with experience, my son. I bet none of my siblings have done this. Maybe not even Mother or Father.-

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°Socks¡¯s Father¡¯s instructions for what he should do during the winter. Let us know if you spot a good river; he still hasn¡¯t done that one yet.¡±

    -He said rivers, not river. I¡¯ll have to do it twice.-

    Antelmu wasn¡¯t really in the mood for banter, though. He reached between Socks¡¯s limbs to find the egg and rest his hand on it, nervous it¡¯d be too warm. ¡°Will it be fine in there?¡± he asked.

    Socks looked at him, then off into the distance. He gave no answer for a moment or two, then said, -Mother says the egg should be the same temperature as my insides, or yours. That is close enough. A little colder than that is too cold, and if it feels like it has a fever, it is too hot. Dirt sleeps in there and he doesn¡¯t overheat or get a fever so it should be fine. And Mother wants me to remind you again that it will probably die.-

    The three of them didn¡¯t go to sleep right at nightfall, since night still came early. Dirt and Antelmu harvested the gryphon¡¯s talons, since Antelmu wanted to keep them, as well as a few choice feathers from its tail.

    Then they sliced open its rear leg for the meat, which Socks was all too happy to eat. No sooner had he swallowed than he said, -It doesn¡¯t taste like bird meat. I thought it would.-

    Dirt carved off a piece for himself and stuffed it in his mouth. The flesh was tough, but not stringy, and it tasted much stronger than any bird he¡¯d had. Nor did it taste like deer or cattle. He couldn¡¯t place it at all. Antelmu even tried some raw, convincingly suppressing his revulsion, and said he couldn¡¯t place it either.

    After they ran out of things to do that weren¡¯t going to bed and finally lay down for the night, Antelmu spent a while thinking about his family again while Dirt and Socks watched quietly. In his mind, they were still brightly remembered, still close by, as if he might wake and find them standing there. Or himself back home sleeping with Gnaziu instead of Dirt.

    The egg would have been a lot easier to tend at the fort. They could leave coals burning day and night, providing a steady heat and a constant watch. Actually, no, that was a terrible idea¡ªlittle Oraziu would find a way to break the shell. He broke everything else he could get his hands on.

    Such thoughts carried them off to sleep, and that night, Apkallu joined them in the dream. He had nothing to say, just smiled from a short distance and otherwise kept to himself. Dirt wondered if he was waiting for something, but Socks ignored him, so Dirt did the same. As strange as it was, in the morning Dirt decided he was glad it was the little fae man and not the Devourer visiting him again.

    In the morning, the egg was still alive, and its tiny mind showed no signs of distress. Just placid and empty, waiting. Antelmu sent it a tiny puff of affection, the first time he¡¯d tried doing that, but it wasn¡¯t clear if the embryo understood or not.

    Antelmu seemed disappointed, so Socks said, -I am sure it will understand when it gets bigger in there. Mother spoke to us before we were born, and since I remember it, I was old enough to understand.-

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°What did she say?¡± asked Antelmu.

    Socks replied in the way of wolves, without words, and shared a complete mental image. He was drifting in a world without direction, vague impressions and sensations of things he would later recognize as touch and gravity, but not now. Sounds caught in his tiny ears, but he made no effort to perceive or understand. It was not a dark world, but rather, a world in which light had not yet come to be.

    hello, my child

    Just a whisper, soft and gentle. It sounded absolutely nothing like the Mother that Dirt knew. Then, abruptly, it was over, and Socks ended the thought. -That¡¯s how it was. Did your mother talk to you when you were in the womb?-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Probably not. I don¡¯t remember her talking to her other babies before they were born,¡± said Antelmu. ¡°Humans don¡¯t remember being infants, though. My first memory is when I was already in my third year. Wait, so you remember being born?¡±

    -I do.-

    ¡°What was that like?¡±

    -Traumatic and confusing. And a big surprise. I was very distressed until I found a nipple and started nursing.-

    ¡°Sort of like a human baby, then.¡±

    -I suppose,- said Socks. -Someday I will watch one get born, and then I can tell you for certain. Dirt, do you want to talk to the humans from yesterday?-

    ¡°Well, we don¡¯t have to go out of our way, but if we see them, sure. It might be nice to visit their tribe if it¡¯s close.¡±

    -Okay, then stand up and wave at that bush,- said Socks, indicating with a thought which one he meant.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to get cold as soon as I get out of the covers,¡± said Dirt.

    -Then you can experience being born.-

    Dirt faked a scowl and got up. He straightened his shirt, which had crept up into his armpits overnight somehow, and waved.

    Sure enough, one man stood, then another. They¡¯d been hiding and watching carefully to see what the giant wolf was up to, as if you could hide from Socks like that. They gestured behind them and the other six came riding out from behind the hill. They didn¡¯t get any closer, and the horsemen kept their bows at the ready. Dirt waved harder, and finally, one of them waved back.

    Dirt hopped out of the nest and gracefully slid down the snowy hill, then jogged over to meet them. ¡°Good morning,¡± he said.

    ¡°Good morning, little boy,¡± said the man Dirt thought was named Iliaru.

    ¡°The first thing everyone wants to know when they meet Socks, is if they¡¯re about to be eaten. The answer to that is no. Then the second thing is, where did I get such a handsome pet? And the answer to that is he¡¯s not my pet. He¡¯s my best friend. So, what¡¯s your third question?¡±

    The men stared for a full count of twelve, simply trying to process what was going on. They shuffled in a stupor, but at least the horsemen lowered their bows.

    ¡°Do you want the rest of the other gryphon? We can¡¯t use it all,¡± said Dirt.

    ¡°Is it safe?¡± said Larenzu.

    ¡°What, the gryphon? It¡¯s dead, so I¡¯m pretty sure.¡±

    ¡°The giant¡­ wolf.¡±

    ¡°Okay, you have to tell me. Is that not what a wolf is to you? Because I don¡¯t know anything else the word could mean,¡± said Dirt.

    The man looked down at Dirt, hesitant, and said, ¡°Wolves are about this tall.¡± He held his hand about three feet off the ground.

    Dirt chuckled. ¡°Socks was bigger than that when he was born. Are you sure you don¡¯t mean a dog? I guess you said so yesterday. Oh well. Come on, you can meet him. He won¡¯t hurt you if you don¡¯t try to hurt us. Also, Antelmu is keeping the egg, so you can¡¯t have it.¡±

    ¡°That other boy; is he up there?¡± asked one of the five whose names Dirt hadn¡¯t learned.

    ¡°Yep, and he still has all his guts and blood in. He just didn¡¯t get up because he¡¯s comfortable in his warm bed. But come along. When are you going to get another chance to meet a real wolf?¡±

    -I am tempted to growl just to watch them panic.-

    Dirt grinned and replied, ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡±

    His enthusiasm must have encouraged the men, because they followed him back. The horses didn¡¯t want to get too close, so the men dismounted about halfway up the hill and whispered gently to soothe them. Dirt helped, speaking to the horses¡¯ minds and calming them, giving them the idea they weren¡¯t in danger.

    When the first of them climbed up into the nest and stood shakily on the unsteady ground, Socks sat up, then pulled the blanket off Antelmu and put it on the egg. -Good morning, little humans,- he said.

    The men shied back and tried to hide behind each other without making it obvious. They shot a startled look at Dirt, then back at Socks.

    ¡°Yep, he spoke right to your minds,¡± said Dirt. ¡°You can either think your reply or just speak aloud.¡±

    They only stayed for a short while. Mostly they tried not to get caught staring at Socks while they chatted with Antelmu, who asked them questions about their horses and what kinds of animals they tended. When the questions got too specific, the answers grew vague, and Dirt saw in their minds it was because they didn¡¯t want a predator like Socks coming to feast on their flocks.

    The men never sat, and it wasn¡¯t long before they began stepping back to politely indicate they wanted to leave. When Antelmu didn¡¯t get the hint quick enough, Larenzu said, ¡°We rode over because we were curious, and now we know. It¡¯s time we head back. Do you need anything for your journey?¡±

    Antelmu said, ¡°Are your lands far from here? How many days¡¯ travel?¡±

    Dirt said, ¡°They don¡¯t want to tell us, Antelmu. They¡¯re worried about Socks.¡±

    ¡°I know. But they can tell us how far it is, at least.¡±

    ¡°Why do you want to know?¡± asked Iliaru.

    Antelmu gave the man a stricken look, then a shy one at Dirt. ¡°I want to do what¡¯s best for the egg. I don¡¯t know how Socks can even carry it, and I can¡¯t take care of it here on my own. Are you going to be staying here much longer?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll probably leave tomorrow, once we¡¯ve finished with the gryphon,¡± said Larenzu.

    -I can carry it. It weighs less than Biandina and I carried her,- said Socks.

    ¡°No, I know that, but I mean, carry it and keep it warm and out of the wind. I can¡¯t let it get cold,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have a way to carry it either, lad. We could drag it on a sled with the meat but I don¡¯t think you¡¯d like that. If you ask me, it¡¯d be better to give up. Nasty things, gryphons. I wouldn¡¯t want to be near even a little one when it got hungry,¡± said Larenzu.

    ¡°I still have to try,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°It¡¯s five days¡¯ travel in good weather, you understand. There¡¯s no way that egg would survive, even if we wanted you to let it hatch. And we don¡¯t. Especially not around our children,¡± said Larenzu. ¡°Do you¡­¡± He paused.

    Antelmu looked up.

    Larenzu leaned in and whispered, ¡°Do you need help getting away?¡±

    Antelmu gave a wistful, forced chuckle and said, ¡°No. Socks and Dirt are my friends, too. I¡¯m with them because I want to be.¡±

    Larenzu regarded him carefully, trying to detect distress or dishonesty on his face. Satisfied there was none, he gave a resigned sigh and glanced at Socks again. ¡°I suppose if the beast wants to follow, there¡¯s nothing we can do about it. Our lands are to the north and west. The way is treacherous, with cliffs and winding canyons, and that¡¯s why we stay there. The tribe we hope to meet each year is to the south, only a few days, but I¡¯ve never been there and I don¡¯t know what their lands are like. We don¡¯t go farther east than this, and haven¡¯t for several generations.¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯s straight west?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°Wilderness, until you find the Wall of Storms at the edge of the world.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the wall of storms?¡± asked Dirt.

    ¡°The cliffs Prevo Tipro put there to wall in the mortal world, and the lightning that dances on it. And past them, there is nothing,¡± said Larenzu. His mind stirred with several questions he wanted to ask, but didn¡¯t. If the travelers weren¡¯t mortal, then he wanted nothing more to do with them.

    The men gave polite gestures of farewell but wasted no time departing. Once their horses all reached the bottom of the hill, they snapped the reins and held on tight with their legs as they broke into a gallop. A moment later, they were gone.

    -They thought I killed the gryphon and it scared them that I wasn¡¯t injured- said Socks, amused. -They thought I might be a spirit.-

    ¡°I still want to see the thing they think is a wolf,¡± said Dirt.

    -Perhaps we will find one. First, we should figure out how I will carry the egg.-

    Antelmu stepped off the blanket they¡¯d slept on and rolled it up, then formed it into a circle. ¡°We can start by putting the egg on this. Socks, can you lift it without cracking it?¡±

    Socks hid his nervousness, but Dirt caught a hint of it anyway. The pup turned his full attention and lifted it very, very carefully. His main concern was the liquid inside¡ªhe¡¯d learned from experience that moving a container too fast made the contents spill out.

    -Now what?- asked Socks.

    ¡°I think what we¡¯ll have to do, is put this circle up by your front shoulders, and whoever is in front will hold on to the egg. Probably Dirt, since he can make those little warming things. If we put leather around it and you run with a shield, that should keep most of the wind off,¡± said Antelmu. He itched to walk over and grab the egg, not trusting it to hover there safely.

    Dirt and Antelmu rose from the ground and sat in their usual places, followed by the wrapped up blanket. They arranged it into a circle again and Socks gently set the egg atop it.

    ¡°It¡¯s getting cold!¡± said Antelmu, panicking. Dirt snapped his fingers and summoned four warming embers, which he distributed around the egg, close to the shell. Socks set the blanket over it and the boys arranged it so there would be gaps for air, and places to keep the embers.

    ¡°Hold it tight, Dirt,¡± said Antelmu anxiously. ¡°Don¡¯t let it fall.¡±

    -It will not fall. I will feel if it moves and catch it.-

    ¡°Good. But still. This is making me really nervous,¡± said Antelmu.

    -Either we will succeed today, or it was hopeless from the start. Watch it to make sure it stays warm enough. That will be your job,- said Socks. He eyed the nest to make sure they weren¡¯t forgetting anything, then made a big shield to block the wind before he even started moving. He stretched it farther than usual, all the way back past where the boys were sitting. Having it so large in such a strange shape would take more of his attention than he was used to.

    Then he took off, walking gently at first and only slowly speeding up to a run. He kept from bouncing or jolting how he usually did, and didn¡¯t go as fast overall. They crossed over the top of the hill and oriented themselves westward. -So far, so good,- said Socks.

    Dirt and Antelmu held on tight, and the day began in earnest.

 Volume IV - Chapter 21

    Around midday, the egg was still alive and quite warm. The blanket kept so much of Socks¡¯s heat in that Dirt hardly had to use his embers. In fact, it was uncomfortably warm, far warmer than the boys were used to. Warm as summer sunlight despite the winter all around them, but that was how the egg liked it and it wasn¡¯t interested in compromise.

    Socks didn¡¯t run as fast as normal, since he was worried that the regular bouncing from his gait would hurt the egg. He did his best to keep it gentle and ran on the flattest paths he could instead of bouncing over everything like normal. It reminded Dirt of how little baby puppy Socks had run when they¡¯d first met, when he had shorter legs.

    The pup spent some time measuring distances against his direction sense and thinking how long it was from spot to spot, and how far away the forest still was. They¡¯d stepped on the teleporter twenty days ago? Something like that. Socks hadn¡¯t been counting and neither had Dirt. But that sounded right, and that meant they might be back by springtime. Maybe even before the egg hatched, if they managed to hurry.

    The morning felt more focused than they¡¯d been in a while. The journey back to the great forest had begun in earnest, although it was going to take a while. Anything else they stopped to look at was just scenery for the journey, not its own new destination. Soon enough, Dirt would be surprising them with Turicum and a hot bath in his villa.

    That didn¡¯t mean there wasn¡¯t still room for detours, apparently, because Socks said, -I thought of something. Father told me where the nearby humans are, and one spot is in the direction those men said they came from. But Father didn¡¯t tell me of any humans to the south. I wonder if they are gone now, or if Father thought they would be boring.-

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. How hard will it be to find?¡±

    -The question is how hard it will be to find quickly, and there is only one way to answer that. We can spend a day looking and leave if we don¡¯t find it. If there is something we have to fight, we must still protect the egg somehow,- said Socks.

    ¡°I think I like the idea of at least checking to see if they need help. They might be hemmed in by monsters like Ogena was,¡± said Dirt. ¡°We should go check, if it doesn¡¯t take too long.¡±

    Antelmu thought, ¡°If there¡¯s any danger, put me down somewhere safe with my egg, and you two can go fight. And I can use my spear one-handed if I have to.¡±

    Socks¡¯s curiosity easily won out over his caution and he turned southward. The journey led them onto flat fields with few hills that slowly became woodland, and while it was certainly wilderness, it hadn¡¯t always been.

    Standing stones, solitary and impossible to explain, appeared at irregular intervals. Some were as tall as Socks at the shoulder, each so wind-worn and weathered that Dirt wondered if they were older than humanity. If they had ever borne writing or decoration, it was all gone now.

    The woodland thickened and the big pup slowed from a run to a gentle jog. Most of the trees were no taller than his ears, and that was only about twenty-five feet. Even for regular trees, these were short, and that meant he couldn¡¯t cross under the canopy and had to keep going around.

    As the day progressed, the woods filled with the scent of prey. Some of it Socks recognized immediately; deer, of more than one variety. Sheep. But that wasn¡¯t all. There were other things wandering under the branches where it was safe, small things like rabbits and rats and other rodents, and some predators as well. Canines, yet another species Socks hadn¡¯t encountered before, and which smelled uncomfortably similar to wolves. He didn¡¯t like it and turned up his nose each time he encountered the scent.

    ¡°If they¡¯re little, I wonder if they¡¯ll be smart like you, or stupid like goblins,¡± opined Dirt. He was tempted to tease his friend, but decided against it, since Socks seemed truly bothered.

    -They cannot be wolves if they are stupid or weak,- said Socks. There was a hint of worried indignation in his mental voice that Dirt tried not to grin at. The poor pup really didn¡¯t want to encounter a miniature version of himself. It went against everything he believed about wolfhood. And everything Dirt believed about it as well, to be fair.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably coyotes,¡± said Antelmu, and Socks chose to believe it.

    They didn¡¯t encounter the beasts that day, though, or any imperiled humans. They stopped for the night in an open meadow and Antelmu built a huge, blazing fire, just because there was enough wood for one. He felt richer than a duke, wasting so much wood like that. It left him giddy and full of laughter and he hardly sat down all evening.

    Socks left to hunt and came back with a creature very much like a deer, but much bigger than one. The horns alone were as long as Dirt was tall and had seven points, some of them squarish and not even sharp.

    Dirt and Socks ate their dinner raw and bloody, but Antelmu wound thin strips of meat around a stick to roast in the fire, which worked better than the others expected. The flesh kept the skewer from burning, which both Dirt and Socks thought was a clever thing to discover.

    After the fire was no more than a faint bed of coals, no brighter than the sharp, bright stars in the cold sky, Socks curled up around the egg and everyone snuggled in for a good sleep.

    Apkallu joined their dreams again, each time in a different guise, but they always knew it was him. First he was himself, the short blue-skinned man with violet hair, and then he was a green child like a dryad. Then a great serpent that caused a roaring earthquake as he slithered, crushing hills beneath him. Finally he was a dead predator like Caesius and the dream turned into a dark and haunted nightmare. Socks growled and the fairy fled, ending the night¡¯s dreaming.

    They knew they were getting close because Socks smelled humans, or rather, humanoid. He and Dirt shared their sense of smell and Dirt couldn¡¯t quite identify it either. It was clear enough on the wind, which had just shifted and started blowing from another direction.  There were other scents as well, the kind they¡¯d expect. Hide, flesh, blood, smoke and ashes, as well as plenty of fur. Sheep and other animals. But the human scent didn¡¯t quite sit right with either of them. There was something bestial about it.

    Socks slowed and held still, listening, but nothing was close enough yet for even his ears to detect.

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s goblins,¡± thought Antelmu.

    -It does not smell like goblins,- replied Socks.

    They started moving again, but silently this time, so smoothly the boys didn¡¯t rock in the slightest. It was like sitting on a piece of wood in a slow river. Socks slunk through the trees, nose low, ears wide open. They broke from the woods and crossed a shallow, noisy river ten paces across, which Socks dipped his snout into. The scent organ behind his teeth didn¡¯t detect anything, so he slurped up a mouthful of water, blew it out into a fine mist, and smelled that.

    -There are traces in the water. But we will follow the wind, not the river,- said Socks. He bounded gently over the river and kept moving.

    Antelmu, surprisingly, was the one who spotted it first. Off in the distance, the ground rose a few feet above the forest and made something like a wide, flat hill. The top was surrounded by a fearsome barbican of wooden branches and planks, all disheveled and spiky. Smoke from several fires rose from inside, but not very high before it drifted down and settled near the ground like fog.

    -They are not being very noisy,- complained Socks, annoyed that he wasn¡¯t the first to spot them. He still couldn¡¯t see the barbican since it was too far for his eyes, but now that he knew the direction, if he pointed his ears, he could hear them.

    He kept moving forward, more quietly than still air, while he listened. -They are quiet. Their voices sound normal.-

    Dirt thought, ¡°Maybe they¡¯re humans after all, and this tribe just smells weird. It doesn¡¯t look like they¡¯re hemmed in by any goblin armies, though.¡±

    Antelmu snickered.

    Socks moved closer and closer until he said, -Do not look at my mind now. I will use ghost sight.-

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Dirt and Antelmu closed their mind sight just to be sure, and a moment later Socks said, -I see them.-

    ¡°What are they?¡± asked Dirt.

    -I do not know. They are mostly like humans, but that fur I smelled is theirs,- replied the pup. -They do not seem very dangerous. We will get close enough to see their minds, then decide what to do.-

    Socks kept to the shadows as he crept between the trees, his dark gray fur blending well with the mottled forest floor. Despite the ground being littered with old fallen leaves and spots of icy snow, his steps were still silent.

    He stopped at the foot of the flat hill the barbican was built on, right beside two fat pines with dark needles that he could easily hide behind, and they looked up with their minds to see what was living there. Immediately they realized that of the few hundred creatures inside, many were half dead. But not all. Not even most. All the fully living minds were full of light and undeveloped. Children. The Eye had made more creatures here, and they were breeding.

    -I am going to look with my eyes. It might be best if we kill them all before they spread,- said Socks.

    ¡°What about the egg?¡± asked Antelmu, looking around for a good spot to put it and keep watch.

    -I will put you down if we decide to kill everything.-

    Dirt and Antelmu both stood as Socks crept up the hill. When he reached the barbican, he turned sideways so all three of them could look at the same time.

    The inhabitants were absolutely not human. The first thing Dirt noticed was the tails and fur, and large animal ears, somewhat like a wolf¡¯s but fuzzier. They looked like humans mixed with some sort of animal, which is probably exactly what they were. But they wore thick clothing against the winter¡¯s chill and tended animals. They lived in tents, much like Antelmu¡¯s people, although poorer in construction. A few wooden buildings still stood, which Dirt guessed were houses. Perhaps they hid in those when it rained.

    There were at least two children to each adult, by Dirt¡¯s estimation, and most of them very young. The oldest one Dirt could spot was just a bit bigger than himself, likely M¨¤xim¡¯s age. Although Felici and his friends had said they hadn¡¯t seen this tribe for a generation, the Eye must have corrupted them much more recently, or there would be older ones around.

    One by one, the animal people noticed them. Socks was the one they spotted, primarily, with his huge yellow eyes peeking up over the spiked edge of the fence. But since he wasn¡¯t attacking yet, they weren¡¯t sure what to do. The adults grabbed whatever little ones were in arm¡¯s reach and held them as still as possible and waited, watching, hoping the predator would decide they weren¡¯t food.

    It was unpleasant watching the adults; all half-dead, with minds devoid of any thought, but acting like they weren¡¯t abominations. Despite the beast fur covering their faces, the emotions they pretended were obvious and convincing. Hesitation, nervousness, various levels of fear. Somehow, the fact that their faces were so recognizably human made it worse. Yellow eyes and sharp teeth didn¡¯t put them far enough from humanity, and the way they huddled over the little ones would have been perfectly convincing if he didn¡¯t already know what they truly were.

    The children, on the other hand, were completely alive. Their minds ranged from curiosity to wild terror. There was no containing the smaller ones, except to try and usher them out of sight. Infants and toddlers shrieked and cried, but the adults didn¡¯t dare move enough to comfort them. Older children tried, ineffectually.

    Dirt noticed how poofy the children¡¯s fur was. They all had puppy fur, every single one of them. He suddenly didn¡¯t want to kill them anymore.

    Those inside the fence stared at those outside it. No one said a word.

    A tree in the very center of the village, at the highest point of the flat, gentle hill, shouted gruffly, ¡°What is it, you useless dogs? What¡¯s everyone looking at?¡± It was Antelmu¡¯s language, with a thick accent.

    Dirt stared at the tree, perplexed. There was nothing special about it at all. Could that be another dryad? There was no way. That tree was way too small to be smart. So what was shouting, then?

    Socks looked back at Dirt, and without a word they slid their minds together, a complete mind meld, and looked again with their joined mind sight. They found the mind in the center of town immediately, and it seemed fully human. It was a male, staring over the fence in a different direction. He could only turn his head so far, and it wasn¡¯t far enough to see the visitors. He had his hearing and his sight, but no other sensation.

    ¡°Hello?¡± shouted Dirt¡¯s body.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there? What is that? Livu, was that you, you little rodent?¡± shouted the man in the form of a tree.

    The wolf¡¯s body turned and hopped lightly over the barbican and walked calmly toward the tree. The animal people scrambled out of the way, but the wolf didn¡¯t give chase, so they stopped at a reasonable distance to keep watching instead of running for their lives.

    Socks and Dirt looked once more over every mind in the village and found nothing else. Just half-dead adults, hordes of young children, and one living human. They ended the mind meld and Dirt scowled as half the world disappeared. Why couldn¡¯t humans hear or smell better?

    The pup snatched up a child with his mind and brought her closer to his face to get a better look. He held her to the side so Dirt and Antelmu could look as well. She screamed and twisted and panicked, unruly and terrified. She clawed desperately toward the ground, then toward her mother, but the half-dead woman came no closer.

    ¡°Hello,¡± said Dirt, in Antelmu¡¯s language, which the tree had spoken. ¡°Don¡¯t be scared, little one. We just want to look at you.¡±

    She spotted Dirt and Antelmu for the first time and he watched her mind trying to figure out what they were. She¡¯d never dreamed of such creatures before.

    The boys gave her friendly little waves, but she wasn¡¯t impressed. She screamed again and twisted in midair, and Socks gave up and put her down, freeing her to flee behind her mother.

    ¡°By all my weeping ancestors, one of you wretched things come tell me what¡¯s going on!¡± shouted the tree-man.

    Socks decided to do that himself. He hurried to the center of the village, stepping right over inhabited tents to the dismay of their owners, and circled the tree until they saw who was talking.

    An old man¡¯s torso was fused into the trunk, his upper chest, shoulders, and neck exposed. No arms. A scarf had been placed around his neck to keep him warm, but his skin was pale and bluish and he looked more dead than the half-dead creatures. He was bald but had wisps of long, white hair drifting from the sides of his head down past his chest.

    The old man regarded them in disbelief. ¡°Are you haunting me again, you wretched fae?¡± he shouted, looking every direction he could. ¡°Or are you spirits from the underworld come to finally let me die?¡±

    ¡°Hello,¡± said Dirt. ¡°My name is Dirt. I¡¯m not a spirit or a fae. And neither is Socks, the wolf, or Antelmu.¡±

    The old man looked at him with rheumy, yellow eyes, and squinted to focus, so Socks moved a bit closer.

    ¡°Child, what have you been feeding that thing?¡± said the old man appreciatively.

    ¡°Whatever he wants, of course,¡± said Dirt. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m going to tell him no?¡±

    The old man cracked a smile that added thirty wrinkles to his sagging face. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t matter what you told him, I imagine. Boy, have I finally gone mad? Or is the world coming apart? Tell me honestly.¡±

    Antelmu said, ¡°How are we supposed to know if you¡¯re crazy?¡±

    The man¡¯s mind filled with memories, terrible ones. The sky cracking open and the Great White God descending to annihilate the tribe. What fools they had been to offend him! What a terrible form he had chosen! There must have been lightning and storms that night. Or had he imagined that part? Perhaps all of it. Who could say what was real, after what he¡¯d seen. The night flashed with terror. Lights and screams and terror. Oh, they wept for him! And he for them!

    The memory retreated, leaving the poor man stunned. He opened and closed his mouth several times without speaking. Dirt¡¯s sympathy led him to consider how long the man had been here like this. At least ten years, he guessed. Maybe longer. No wonder he was losing it.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re at least a little mad,¡± said Dirt, ¡°but we¡¯re real.¡±

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know if that makes it better or worse. Am I dead? Are you dead?¡±

    ¡°Nope, very much alive,¡± said Dirt. ¡°On both counts.¡±

    -I think we should kill them all,- said Socks. -We can guess what happened here, although I don¡¯t know why it left him like this.-

    ¡°Hold on, not yet,¡± said Dirt. ¡°They seem pretty harmless, don¡¯t they?¡±

    -Everything here is either an abomination, or a spawn of abominations.-

    ¡°So were the man-eaters that Maxima kept on her territory because sometimes they¡¯re useful,¡± said Dirt.

    The old man said, ¡°Alive. I was afraid you¡¯d say that. Although I would hope that if I was dead, I would be free, and I am not free. So I suppose it¡¯s better to find out I¡¯m still alive. How about you, child? You, the bigger one. Would you prefer to be dead or alive?¡±

    ¡°Alive, of course,¡± said Antelmu.

    ¡°You say that now, but trade me places and you¡¯ll change your mind,¡± said the old man. He had a surprisingly expressive face, Dirt decided. Perhaps it was the madness contorting his emotions larger than they should have been.

    -Why did the Great White God put you in the tree?- asked Socks.

    ¡°Now I know I¡¯m mad. I¡¯m hearing voices in my head. Can you believe that, you two?¡± said the old man. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re not fae?¡±

    ¡°Yep, I¡¯m sure. And if you¡¯re hearing a voice you¡¯d better answer it,¡± said Dirt.

    Although no one was getting close, by now every pair of eyes was on the giant wolf and his boys, up talking to their tree. Even many of the animals¡ªa few bleating sheep, several tired-looking cows.

    The old man sighed and looked down. ¡°He put me here to teach them. They must learn how to be a people. To hunt, survive, speak and sing, everything that makes a life. The little ones don¡¯t want to learn, and the older ones have no souls. My greatest fear is that they won¡¯t survive and I¡¯ll outlive them. I¡¯m already far too alone. It¡¯s more than I could bear to watch over the silent grave of my tribe, decade after empty decade.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s feeding everybody?¡± asked Antelmu.

    ¡°Oh, the soulless ones still hunt and plant crops. They¡¯ll even talk, if you speak to them. But make no mistake, they¡¯re empty inside. Don¡¯t let them fool you. And what will become of children raised by creatures like that? Are they even children? They look like creatures. I don¡¯t know. But when they ask, I teach them. I can do nothing else.¡±

    Antelmu thought, ¡°In case you were thinking of leaving me here with the egg, please don¡¯t. I can¡¯t live here after seeing their empty minds.¡±

    -We weren¡¯t planning on it, silly little Antelmu. I had not even considered it,- said Socks.

    ¡°Yes, but I considered it, and I¡¯m considering that I really don¡¯t want to, so please don¡¯t.¡±

    -The real question is whether we¡¯re going to kill them all. What do you think, Dirt?-