《SALAMANDER STORY》 SALAMANDER STORY 1-1 PART 1 CHAPTER 1 NESANS In a specific but unremarkable pond, next to a particular but ordinary stretch of creek, where a plain mixed forest and a fairly boring grassland meet, there is a salamander. This salamander is a kind of salamander that¡¯s kind of like an almost-legless and wet ferret, with more tail than body. All that being the case, it is a salamander, so it is quite comfortable in this unremarkable pond, next to the ordinary stretch of creek, where a plain mixed forest and a fairly boring grassland meet. Until very recently, this salamander was a very normal salamander, lazily sitting at the bottom of its pond, or under a rock by the surface. It would spend its days happily eating worms, snails, slugs, beetles, spiders, flies, and on rare occasion a very small fish. It even managed to fertilize some eggs, once upon a time. But something changed, very recently. This Salamander had a thought, a very novel experience for most salamanders. Not the kind of thought that¡¯s just an emotion, like ¡°hungry¡± or ¡°scared¡±. The salamander thought ¡°I wonder why my pond has a top and bottom¡±. Then, the salamander realized what it had done, and thought about the thought it had. With that thought about the thought, the levees broke, and the salamander¡¯s mind was overcome with Thought. Thoughts about the pond, thoughts about the creek, and what may be beyond them. Thoughts about these thoughts, and thoughts about why it was thinking, and why it had never had a thought before. The salamander was so taken by these thoughts, so thoroughly overwhelmed in the rapturous onset of awareness, that in a way it died and was reborn as something new, all in the span of about 30 seconds. Were there an outside observer, the salamander would have appeared to suddenly seize, then go limp, and float belly-up to the surface of the pond. Minutes later, it would shudder back to life, and swim to the edge of the pond ¨C ¡°my pond¡±, thought the salamander. It stared into nothing for minutes, attempting to come to a reckoning. The salamander had never come to a reckoning on anything before, so didn¡¯t know where to begin. The salamander lay on the edge of the pond, tail in the water, pondering. What a thing to do, to ponder! Never before had the salamander considered itself, or the pond, or the creek it sometimes ventured into. ¡°I¡¯ve never considered at all¡±, thought the salamander. Then another thought occurred to it, about that thought: ¡°How do I know words to think in?¡±, and another thought on that thought, ¡°how do I know that it¡¯s strange for me to think in words?¡±. A shadow streaked across the salamander¡¯s meager vision, and its weak ears heard a familiar and terrifying sound. For the first time since it began to think, the salamander acted without thinking. It scrambled backwards into the water and swam to the bottom in an utter panic. A familiar angel of death: An eagle, gliding towards it, just above the water. Its winged silhouette swooped over the pond, aborting its attack after the salamander¡¯s narrow escape. The salamander kept to the bottom of the pond, the thoughts suppressed for now, buried by fear. The salamander wanted to think about how it knew what an eagle was, or that the thing was called an eagle. It would have liked nothing more than to sit on the side of the pond and think these new thoughts which it was so unfamiliar with. But there was a terrible beast afoot, and for now, it was tired. The salamander squeezed itself between the rocks at the bottom of the pond, where it knew it was safe, and where it knew it had hid many times before. It curled itself up, and it slept. ========================================================================= This process repeated for many days. Wake in the pond. Search for snails, worms, slugs, bugs, tiny fish, and any other living thing the salamander could swallow. Venture into the creek if need be. Cower from the shadow of death, the eagle that soared the area. From time to time, when swimming in the creek to search for food, the salamander would see another salamander. The first few times, the thinking salamander tried to express its thoughts, in hopes that it could find kinship. But the other salamanders were normal salamanders, simple creatures of eating and sleeping. Whenever it thought on this, the salamander was filled with sorrow. It had never felt sorrow, so this sorrow was the greatest, most all-encompassing sorrow that it had ever experienced. In these moments of sorrow, the salamander wished that it could be a normal salamander again, because it wouldn¡¯t need to feel these things. ¡°Damn these Thoughts and Thinking!¡±, it thought. ¡°So terrible and cruel! To be made able to suffer! To be aware that I am suffering, and to know I didn¡¯t always!¡± If the salamander had tears to weep, it would have wept a sea. If it had a voice to cry, its wails would wake the rocks and clouds and stars. And all without a shoulder to lean on! The salamander was alone, and it knew it was alone. After staring into the still, blank eyes of other salamanders, and being met only with instinctual threat displays, it was clear to the thinking salamander. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ========================================================================= In the nearby creek, there is a kind of snail that likes to bunch up with other snails. They grab onto one another and form balls of around a dozen or so. One day, when the salamander came across a cluster of snails in the creek, it had a thought: ¡°I wish this bunch of snails were close to my pond¡±. And the salamander was struck by the profundity of the following thought: ¡°I can make it so!¡± What joy! Joy, joy, joy, grand jubilee and celebration within the salamander¡¯s head and heart, at the image in its mind of a cluster of snails right in its own pond! But imagining and being are very different things. After eating its fill, it grabbed the remaining snails in its mouth, just barely. It kept grip, but as the salamander began to swell with pride in its accomplishment, the snails let go of one another, and fell from its mouth. The salamander watched, shocked, stunned, horrified, downright offended, as the snails slowly drifted downwards and away, pushed slowly by the creek¡¯s current. Anger welled up in the salamander¡¯s mind. ¡°You bastards!¡± It thought of the snails. ¡°You¡¯re going to die anyways! Why must you push my buttons!?¡± The salamander paused for an instant, confused as to what a button is, but kept its focus. Two snails remained in the salamander¡¯s mouth, and it was unsatisfied. Two by two, the salamander gathered up 7 of the snails before the current carried them all too far to bother. One by one, it set them just out of the water, in a cranny between three rocks. Then, it began to think. ¡°I¡¯ll just take two and come back.¡± It first thought. It began to reach to grab two of them, but paused. ¡°What if something else steals my snails while I¡¯m gone?¡± Again, it was tempted to stop and ponder the idea of ¡°stealing¡± and the snails being ¡°mine¡±, but it retained its focus on the problem at hand. ¡°If I take two at a time, that means I need to go back and forth 4 times, and the last one will only be one snail. Then, something could steal the snails from my pond while I¡¯m here, or steal the snails from here while I¡¯m at my pond.¡± A conundrum fit to test the wisest of salamanders. The unprecedented complexity of this thought was not lost on the salamander, but still, it kept focus. It decided that it would indeed carry two snails at a time, as it could not carry more. It steeled its heart and mind; ¡°I will carry these two snails in my mouth, and I will put them under a rock in my pond, and I will return for two more, and I will do this until no snails remain.¡± And with that thought of resolve, it began its Work. Cupping the snails in its mouth with the firmest of toothless grips, and beating its tail and body with all its little might to swim up current, the salamander made its way home to its pond. With every flex of its tiny, mighty muscles, every great kick of its diminutive feet, every bit of buffeting and turbulence of the creek against its body, the salamander was filled with ever-growing joy in its exercising of agency. ¡°I am the master of my own fate! I forge my destiny! With these two snails I lay the foundation of my eternal reign!¡± It was filled to bursting with power, of confidence. In its single-minded focus it nearly passed the entrance to its pond. After depositing its bounty of two snails under a rock in the bottom of the pond, the salamander surfaced and pushed itself onto land. ¡°Glory! Glory to me! Victory and triumph!¡± the salamander thought. It raised its open maw to the sky and hissed, declaring to the sun and sky its mastery of nature. ¡°Behold, you lowly heavens! This salamander has overruled your will! I spit on your natural order! I claim as my domain this pond and creek, and all that happens here is by my will! I AM THE NEW GOD OF THIS WOR-¡± The salamander¡¯s internal diatribe was interrupted by a passing shadow and the subsequent instinctive panic to get underwater as quickly as possible. ========================================================================= After calming itself from yet another brush with the Feathered Death, the salamander returned downcreek where it had piled the extra snails, only to find a terrible transgression on its newly declared kingdom. A large mantis had found the snails, and was idly eating one. ¡°What impropriety! Such villainy!¡± cried the salamander, to itself, in its own head. ¡°Do you not know the property of your King? I will eat you for this!¡± and so the salamander resolved to defeat this foul beast in combat. The Salamander swam to the rocks it had piled the snails on, and where now the mantis was poaching the rightful property of the salamander. The salamander opened its mouth wide and hissed at the mantis. ¡°You! Green and brown demon of the land, chitinous wretch!¡± thought the salamander, silently, in its own head, at the mantis. ¡°You who have transgressed my Will and my Order, who has stolen what is mine, how do you plead?¡± The mantis said nothing. ¡°So be it then! Today you shall DIE!¡± With all the might and muscle its small, wet body could muster, and with all the purchase its vestigial limbs could grasp on the mossy rock, incensed with the fury of the righteous and the just, the salamander thrust itself at the mantis. With toothless maw agape, with wind in its diminutive lungs and fire in its minuscule heart, the salamander made its first act of knowing violence. As with all its other thoughts, to hate was new, so the salamander had never felt such hatred for anything more than it felt for this mantis, who dared to steal the snails the salamander had labored and toiled so hard to gather. The mantis, for its part, dropped the snail it was eating, and raised its bladed forelimbs at the charging salamander. ¡°You mean to resist your sentence? You raise your blades to the king of this creek? Have at you then!¡± The salamander bit down, hard, intent to crush the mantis in one fell blow¡­ And missed. But not entirely. The salamander managed to crush both of the mantis¡¯s left legs, and crippled the beast. ¡°Ha! In your folly you have only lengthened your suffering! Orb-eyed beast of thievery, who steals the snails of others, bow your head now and your life will be spared!¡± The mantis, of course, said nothing. ¡°Whether by courage, honor, or foolishness, I respect your resolve, Mantis! I will sing the praises of your warrior¡¯s spirit as I eat your corpse!¡± The salamander lunged once more, and this time caught the mantis by the abdomen. The salamander bit, pulled, shook, and finally, wholly engulfed the dying mantis. It swallowed, and the inferno of rage in its belly was, at last, quenched. And with the dying of this furious light, the salamander was exhausted. It had never once so exerted itself, never before had it engaged in combat with a beast so fierce. It lacked even the strength to carry two more snails back home. Soreness in its entire body, belly overstuffed with snail and mantis, the salamander returned home to its pond, settled at its usual spot, and it slept. ========================================================================= SALAMANDER STORY 1-2 PART 1 CHAPTER 2 DRIM In this deepest of sleeps, a depth of sleep only attainable after victory in combat, after descending into the valley of death and climbing the opposite cliff, the salamander dreamt. It had never before had a dream, and wasn¡¯t entirely sure what it was, but it knew it was seeing things after sleeping, and that this was called dreaming. In this dream, the salamander existed in a vast nothing. Not even the lights of the far earth shone in the distance of this void, no firmament to dictate its bounds. The salamander pondered where this place must be, and why it is here. Before the salamander could become too lost in this dream-thought, it felt something come into view behind it, where it couldn¡¯t see, so of course it turned to see. It was a cluster of snails. Naturally, the salamander approached the snails to eat them, but saw a second thing come into existence some distance away. The salamander knew its form, and the fires of war roared once more in its heart. The mantis, not satisfied with violating the salamander¡¯s waking peace, had invaded the salamander¡¯s dreaming world as well. But something brought the salamander pause. The mantis wasn¡¯t stealing snails, or waving its blades at the salamander. Instead, it was simply perched on an ethereal dream-branch, floating in dream-space, arms outstretched. The salamander was transfixed by a sense of odd serenity, watching this great foe which it had only that day vanquished, now here in its dream, standing perfectly still. With a rapidity such that it could not be seen, the mantis grabbed something from the space in front of it. Some small thing had been plucked from its flight, and the mantis hungrily devoured it. The salamander was awed by the swiftness and lethality of the mantis blades, and by its ability to perch on its four legs. This awe turned quickly to envy. ¡°What impudence!¡± the salamander cursed, silently, in its own head, to itself. ¡°Does it not appreciate the gifts it has been blessed with by birth? Legs to walk on, blades to pluck food from the very air, and yet it intrudes into MY creek, and takes MY snails!¡± The salamander¡¯s envy and insult boiled over. ¡°If you will not appreciate your legs and blades, then I shall take them from you! They will be mine! I will make far greater use than you!¡± With that, the salamander, in its dream-state, swallowed the dream-mantis in one motion, as if it were a dream-grain of dream-sand, and thus ended the dream. ========================================================================= Wakefulness came slowly for the salamander. The sun just barely shone past the edges of its firmament, just bright enough to disturb the salamander at the bottom of its pond. It roused, not quite to consciousness, and surfaced at the edge of the pond. The salamander felt terrible. Tired, sore, sick from overeating but also desperately hungry. Again, it wondered if consciousness was worth the costs. With eyes blinking painfully, it swam to the water¡¯s edge, and reached out a leg to... ¡°A leg?¡± the salamander was perplexed. It forced one eye open, the morning light too bright to dare endanger both, and tilted its head to take a look at where the leg must surely attach to its body. Sure enough, just as attached as its tail, tongue, and all the teeth it doesn¡¯t have, there was a leg coming from its body. Not, however, the underdeveloped, twisted, useless leg it was familiar with. Gone was the vestigial remnant of a more primitive form, and in its place was a long, green and brown, spindly but rigid, honest-to-god, leg. ¡°A leg.¡± again thought the salamander. It wiggled the leg. It bent and folded the leg at its three joints. It waved the leg in front of its face, both eyes now open and alert. It pushed the leg against the mud, and most amazingly of all, the salamander¡¯s whole body lifted opposite the leg. ¡°A leg!¡± the salamander rejoiced. It marveled at its leg. It licked its leg. It splashed the water with its leg. It pushed the pointed tip of its leg into the mud. It pulled the pointed tip of its leg out of the mud. It pushed a little piece of mud back and forth with its leg. Every little movement and motion a new and magnificent experience, a new exercising of agency and will. Jubilation overthrew the salamander¡¯s motor functions, and it flopped and rolled in what might charitably be called a dance. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Multiple legs!?¡± The salamander¡¯s celebratory seizure halted. Its excitement looped over into stunned amazement. It trembled, it shook, it vibrated, as it slowly curled and uncurled its new set of 4 legs. This was too much for the salamander¡¯s tiny brain to take in. It went limp. Its face flopped down into the water. Its legs hung to either side. It lay there, eyes buried in the mud, jaw agape, and it breathed, and it thought. The salamander remembered the dream. It remembered eating the dream-mantis, after having battled, bested, and eaten the not-dream-mantis. It tried to understand. It pulled and stretched the memories and thoughts, it kneaded them like dough. It boiled and chopped them, then rolled them flat and baked them. This continued for a solid half an hour, at least, and the salamander finally came to a decision. ¡°I will simply accept this. I will accept it in the way I accept that water is wet. If I defeat and eat something in my dream, I will take from it that which I desire.¡± The salamander rolled back over onto its stomach. It raised its body out of the shallow water and into the air with its new mantis legs. It turned itself in a full circle, then climbed on top of a nearby stone. It felt the sun on its face and back. It felt the coolness of the mossy stone beneath it. It wiggled its tail, it smelled the air. ¡°I am amazing.¡± With that thought, the salamander jumped off the stone, back into its pond, soaring into a majestic bellyflop, and dove to the bottom to retrieve and eat its two stashed snails. ========================================================================= For several days more, in between trips of gathering and stockpiling snails into its pond, the salamander practiced with its new legs, slowly building confidence in its para-aquatic ambulation. It was pleased with itself and its new abilities, but for now remained too clumsy to do much on land. Still, there was a nagging, festering annoyance, a nibbling bugbear in the attic of its mind, slowly chewing down through the rafters. One day the ceiling was bound to collapse, under the weight of the bugbear and its assault on structural integrity. And collapse it did. The salamander had been wronged. Cheated. Robbed. In its dream, it had declared it would take the legs of the mantis, and so it did, but it also had claimed the claws. Yet here the salamander was, without claws. Clawless. Unclawed. It couldn¡¯t even revel in a lust for revenge at having lost its claws, having not ever had them. Only a vague displeasure, with no wrongdoer to bring to task. Every moment of exercising its new legs, it imagined using a third pair to balance. Every snail it crushed in its mouth, it imagined instead slicing the snails with bladed forelimbs, splitting the shell and cutting away the parts not fit for its palate. Eventually it reached a head. The salamander had stockpiled plenty of extra snails in and around its pond, and it started to hunger for something greater: Power. The power of claws, the power to snatch food from the very air, the power of asserting its will onto the world, and making manifest its desires. It would seek out a new mantis. A brethren of the interloper, to collect the debt owed by its kin. The salamander began to plot. Surely, if one mantis went after snails, another could as well. So the salamander took up 2 snails in its mouth and set out for the old battlefield. It placed the snails on the same rock, recognizable by the smeared moss, a scar that marked the earth with a site of war. Then, it waited. And it waited. To pass the time, it practiced balancing on one or two of its legs at a time. And waited. To pass the time, it swam in tight circles, using one leg as a pivot. And waited, floating upside down¡­ And waited, balancing on its head¡­ Until the sun began to dim behind its firmament, the salamander waited, and watched the bait snails, placed atop the rock as if to beg favor from an unknowable deity. Nothing came. No mantis. No debtor come to make the salamander whole. No gift from on high. Just the wind, noticeably colder now than when the salamander had first begun to Think, surely as a foul portent of the coming winter, with this lack of mantis the first salvo in the coming season of scarcity. So the salamander went home to its pond. Frustrated, but patient, and remaining confident in the inevitability of victory. It slept, and the next day, it tried again. It once more placed two snails on the rock, and it once more sat in the water, still as it could manage, watching for the mantis that would surely come. Again, nothing came, and the cold of night rolled over the land to shoo it home. The salamander was disappointed. Disappointed in not receiving its promised bladed arms. Disappointed in the snails for failing to attract a mantis. But even over the disappointed, and for the first time, it felt longing. It longed for answers, explanation, purpose to this failure, some kind of meaning, and it found none. So, desperate for reason and explanation to its failures, it turned blame on itself. ¡°Surely, had I only ate more thoroughly, or dreamt more deeply, I¡¯d have the claws I desire.¡± It found its way to the entrance of its pond, but paused before entering. ¡°I don¡¯t deserve this palace I have built for myself. I don¡¯t deserve the snails I have stockpiled. This is my fault. I am weak, feeble, undeserving of life. My grandiose visions, my eternal dynasty established over this pond and creek, it is all for naught. The delusions of a weak, desperate fool. Death comes for us all, and swiftly for me.¡± It felt the pointless futility of struggling against fate. It felt the despair of falling through the ice, knowing death was imminent. It had risked life and limb to climb the tallest of trees, and look out upon the world from the highest point, only to discover mountains on all sides. By now the salamander had returned to its pond, to its resting spot at the bottom, where it had pinned its snails under the rocks. It lulled itself to sleep with the bittersweet and thorny blanket of self-pity. ========================================================================= SALAMANDER STORY 1-3 PART 1 CHAPTER 3 LANGOSTINO For about a week, the salamander lay in its pond, utterly despondent, slowly eating through its supply of snails. Grief, regret, disappointment, dejection, no words could give the faintest measure of the salamander¡¯s misery. Unknown to the salamander, this was entirely normal with winter settling in. The dropping temperature of the air and water triggered a cascade of hormonal changes, making the salamander lethargic, morose, and enervated. As a wild salamander, this keeps it holed up, mostly sleeping in a burrow or the bottom of still water, conserving calories through the cold season. But as a thinking salamander, this makes it depressed. It feels terrible in general, and particularly about itself. To this winterized salamander, to live was an affront against all things good, an irredeemable sin from which there can be no redemption. A quiet world free of the complexities and convolutions of life would be far preferable. And so the salamander approached as closely as it could do this, by simply sleeping at the bottom of its pond. Not that any salamander would be different, apart from the melodrama. But even in the salamander¡¯s blackest night, the world went on. The suns glowed. The firmaments spun. Winds blew. Waters of the ponds, creeks, rivers, lakes, and seas all flowed. Worms burrowed. Snails snailed. Fish swam. Birds flew. Snakes slithered. Takin grazed. Horned millipedes rooted for tubers. And as would soon be very relevant to the salamander, the langostinos of the region were beginning their winter migration upriver. Far down the creek, it feeds into a mighty river. This river eventually fans out into a floodplain delta where it meets a sea. In this delta, among many other forms of life, there is a type of small, lobster-crab creature, with a stubby tail and long, skinny claws. These are called langostinos by the people of the delta, and in summer they are so numerous as to choke some rivulets. When winter begins to set in, the langostinos start a march against the current, to their seasonal spawning grounds in the upland mudfields. The upper crust of dried mud protects the eggs and traps in water, and with the spring rains the hatchlings are washed downriver back to the delta. The langostino vanguard has reached the salamander¡¯s creek. ========================================================================= The salamander sensed that something was coming. Something substantial, something meaningful. Something big. The salamander tried to ignore it. It preferred the cold embrace of woe which it had immersed itself in. It sought not to move at all. But a buzzing in its forehead only grew stronger with every moment it was ignored. Wishing to return to its sad slumber, the salamander sought the source of this buzzing, and surfaced for the first time in days. Its legs were stiff from disuse, and it struggled to leave the water. It looked out as far as its underdeveloped salamander eyes could see, and it saw nothing. It smelled the air, and it smelled nothing. It listened to the wind, and it heard nothing Yet the buzzing continued. The salamander was at this point growing angry, and it quite liked it. ¡°Anger feels much better than sadness¡± the salamander thought. ¡°I can go after something other than myself.¡± It kept looking around, raising up on the tippie-toes of its toeless mantid legs. It rotated slowly around, searching for anything to quiet or explain the buzzing. It rotated faster, it spun in place on top of the rock, and the buzzing throbbed. The salamander became dizzy and slipped, falling back into the water. But it noticed something. The throbbing had stopped after it fell. It tried again, climbing back onto the rock, and initiated rotation. The throbbing returned, ever so slowly rising and falling in intensity. ¡°What a curious phenomenon¡± the salamander thought, rotating slowly in place. ¡°And what sweet sensation! The misery of failure melts away under the scouring pain.¡± The salamander kept rotating, feeling the buzzing throb cyclically. It would grow to a peak, and as the salamander kept turning, it would taper. It passed the peak, then rotated back, and waved its head back and forth through the peak. ¡°Wait¡­ I can feel something.¡± The salamander slowly waved its head back and forth, feeling the buzzing grow and fade. It raised its head up and down, feeling it fade as it pointed up or down away from the horizon. And it finally clicked. ¡°Something is coming, from that direction. From the¡­ West.¡± The buzzing was most intense when looking in the direction of the firmament¡¯s rotation, the direction that the light of day fled to as night overtook it. And with this revelation, the buzzing lessened to a whisper This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Still though, it was there. The danger was not gone. Something approached, and the salamander was afraid. But not the kind of fear from the eagle swooping to snatch it. That is an acute fear, a clear and present danger. This fear was vague, but pressing. It shook in the salamander¡¯s chest like faraway thunder, or a sea of drums. Whatever was coming was something great and terrible. ========================================================================= The buzzing ceased, its message delivered, and the salamander knew whatever it heralded had arrived. It looked downriver into the creek, the direction it now knew was West, and it saw the bearer of doom. A creature, maybe a fifth the size of the salamander, was slowly scuttling in the creek, against the current. It did not swim, but appeared to crawl upon the rocks and pebbles that floored the creek, as if it were on land. The salamander was confused, but cautious. ¡°Surely this is not the death that the buzzing trumpeted.¡± The salamander thought. ¡°Yet as I gaze upon it, I ever so faintly feel something¡­ alarming.¡± The salamander swam towards the stranger from the west, close enough to take a careful look, but keeping a safe distance. The creature indeed did crawl along the creek floor, on six long legs and dozens of tiny ones under its rear half. The salamander was reminded of a tiny red creature it once saw, smaller than the salamander¡¯s beady little eyeballs, which walked in great caravans just outside the water, carrying leaves far larger than the creature itself. This new creature appeared almost as a comparatively gigantic version of that infinitesimally small creature. Its body was wider than its length, apart from the long two-pronged claws that extended forward from its face. If not for the claws, the salamander could easily swallow the rest of its body. A mess of tiny tentacles and antennae twitched and curled from its face, like a handful of twigs and worms. When the salamander drew closer, entranced with curiosity by this unknown critter, the thing snapped its front to the salamander, and raised its open claws. ¡°You come unannounced to my lands and raise your weapons at me?¡± the salamander thought, silently, in its own head, at the creature. The langostino, as should be expected of the creatures the salamander turns its ire towards, said nothing. It did advance towards the salamander, with claws outstretched and antennae flared to the sides. Had the salamander any lips, it would have grinned. ¡°If you seek death, I will oblige you, invader from downriver!¡± After being in depression, after having been cheated out of its bladed mantis claws, after being so thoroughly wronged and cast aside to die (or so it imagined), the salamander was eager to conduct violence. It coiled up its tail, it held its legs close to its body, and it opened its mouth wide. It shouted, mentally, at the langostino, ¡°I put into this attack all my woes and sorrows!¡± The salamander released the tension in its tail, launching its body and mouth forward in a powerful thrust at the langostino. The langostino was prepared to receive, and with its long pointed claws, it caught the salamander by the lower jaw and was pushed back with its momentum. The salamander was shocked, and retreated, preparing a second thrust. The langostino again was prepared to receive. Once more, the salamander thrust true at the langostino, but the langostino parried and swam aside. The salamander was enraged, and instead of retreating for a third thrust, kept up the attack, swinging its head to grab at the langostino¡¯s side. The langostino had already turned its front again to the salamander, and this time grabbed the salamander¡¯s lower jaw. The serrated pincers of the langostino cut into the salamander¡¯s soft mouth, and drew blood. The salamander had never bled before. This was a new experience for it. The pain and novelty of the wounding counter cut through the last of the salamander¡¯s malaise. It clamped its mouth shut, preventing the langostino from letting go, and shook its head with all its power. It flexed and twisted, it slammed the langostino against the rocky creekbed, and something happened. The body of the langostino swam away, but the pain of its pincers continued. The salamander could see the stumps of the langostino¡¯s arms sticking out of its mouth, at the same time as the langostino¡¯s body repeatedly curled and uncurled, propelling itself away, back downcreek from whence it came. The salamander wiggled its mouth, and after a few seconds the claws came loose, and the salamander greedily swallowed them. The salamander was confused, to say the least. ¡°What was this strange new animal?¡± ¡°Why did it only now come to this place?¡± ¡°Why did the my head buzz with pain and danger over this?¡± And most baffling of all, ¡°By the firmaments and all their lights, why did its arms detach?¡± The salamander gently licked the wounds over its lower lip, its new scars of battle, two marks left by a wicked coward without the dignity to die honorably. But still, the salamander was victorious, and expected to dream of the foul creature in sleep. Its mood notably improved by the invigoration of combat and pain, the salamander decided to spend some time gathering snails before returning to its pond to sleep. ========================================================================= SALAMANDER STORY 1-4 - BLOD AND HONGR PART 1 CHAPTER 4 BLOD AND HONGR I suspect you are here to avenge your comrade.¡± the salamander thought, silently, in its own head, at the langostinos. ¡°I am prepared! My will is steeled, and I cloak myself in honor. No harm may come to the righteous!¡± The langostinos, for their part, said nothing. They did notice the salamander waking, and turned their pincers to it. ¡°I am prepared! The crippled coward who put these marks upon my lip surely told a tale of near victory, but know that today you die! FIRST TECHNIQUE, GLORY TAIL SMASH, HUMBLER OF THE WICKED!¡± ¡°SECOND TECHNIQUE, HEAVENLY METEOR CRUSH, BREAKER OF SHELLS!¡± For the salamander¡¯s second technique, it swam above the second langostino at high speed, and dove headfirst into it, smashing it against the underlying rock. Its thorax was shattered and it died on the spot. ¡°THIRD TECHNIQUE...!¡± ¡°DIVINE ROLLING FIRMAMENT¡­!¡± ¡°ENDER OF DAYS!¡± The salamander spun its entire body, and the langostino spun with it. The salamander¡¯s spin ripped the langostino¡¯s arm from its socket before it could detach, and blue blood poured from the gaping hole. The langostino slowed, and became still. ¡°You whose countrymen have been slain before your very eyes. You who invaded my palace to avenge another invader. You who have fought without honor, for a cause without honor...¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°What have you to say in defense of your pride? What dying words will you leave to this world, what final message to deliver to your brethren?¡± ¡°Truly, you are a pathetic sort.¡± With that, the salamander took the langostino¡¯s tail in its mouth, put a leg to its thorax, and tore the pitiful wretch in twain. It ate the langostino, and one more, and it was satisfied. But still, even in the wake of this victory, it felt that same vague sense of alarm. It climbed once more upon the rock, and looked out into the creek. ¡°So many of them¡­ So many marching east, but to where? For what purpose? And now, there are so many here, so many outside my pond¡­ so many to kill, so many to eat!¡± ¡°FOURTH TECHNIQUE, RISING FIRE, WHICH CASTS TO THE WIND!¡± ¡°FIFTH TECHNIQUE, FIVE-FOLD SHACKLE, DISEMBOWELING GIBBET!¡± ¡°If I am to die, let it be awash in glory!¡± In ones and twos, langostinos crawled up the rock, and the salamander crushed them in its mouth, or smashed them with its tail, but still they came. The horde thickened, and more were forced out of the water, and more climbed the rock. The salamander fought them valiantly, but the wounds mounted, and its strength waned. ¡°So offended by my superiority are you that you send an army to cut me down! So powerful am I that only an unceasing horde of the wicked can bring me low! Know this! You cannot undo that I had existed, and though victorious you may be, you will know that my solitary existence so outclassed you, that this is the extremity you were forced to commit!¡± SALAMANDER STORY 2-1 - BEIZL PART 2 CHAPTER 1 BEIZL The thing which grabbed the salamander was not of a divine nature, but was fair to mistake her for an angel. It was a little girl, named Beizl, about 9 years old. She was gathering langostinos from the creek, picking the weak and straggling from the migrating wave. She saw the salamander, she watched its fight with the langostinos, and she took pity on it. As she watched its battle to the death, she felt that there was something special about the salamander. When she saw its mantis legs, she reached out to it with her Will, and felt back the echo of the Primordium. She decided to save the monster. She set down her basket and stepped over the langostinos around the salamander¡¯s rock. She picked up the near-dead salamander, and cast aside the langostinos that held its body. She gently, with such tenderness and care, set the salamander in her basket, and began her short walk home. Some time on the way, the salamander began to wake. ¡°What is this?¡± the salamander thought. ¡°I live? Where am I? What is this¡­ bed of sticks I am carried on?¡± The salamander struggled, and failed, to stand on its horribly injured legs. It had lost too much blood, expended too much energy. Then it saw Beizl. To the salamander, Beizl was a titan. A great giant, insurmountable and terrible, with midnight black wooly hair, light brown skin, round brown eyes, and a narrow aquiline nose. The salamander was angered. ¡°You! You dare steal from me my destined glory? My honorable death in combat? End me, colossus of interference!¡± The salamander tried to writhe, but barely moved. It turned its mouth up at Beizl¡¯s face, and with its tired lungs, it hissed at her. ¡°My kingdom is lost, my lands salted and taken from me, do not steal also my dignity. I will strike at you, I will not be denied by destined fate.¡± Even in its own thoughts, the salamander was too tired to properly express fury. It saw the giant¡¯s thumb over the side of the basket, and it tried to bite at it. Just as its mouth made contact, Beizl brought her face down to the salamander. She pressed her lips to its head, and she spoke one word: ¡°Sleep¡±. And the salamander did. It collapsed into blackest sleep, and it did not dream. ========================= Beizl was excited. She had found a strange and rare creature: A tiny and weak monster. She thought of the tales she had heard, of Deva using Will to shape primordium into living things, and the old witch-kings that had done the same, and she was filled with the giddiness of a dog presented with infinite birds to chase. But she also felt anxious, not knowing if Marta would permit her keeping the salamander. She feared that Marta would simply take her new pet and throw it in the big pot. Her fears were a whimper next to the roaring elation. She was eager to prove herself capable, to show her strength and abilities to Marta. To prove that she was listening to Marta¡¯s lessons. To prove her talents in Will. The world had given her a weak and feeble monster to take as her pet, for her to shape and form. The fantasy of a pet was the most alluring of all. The other children in the nearby village raised ferrets and millipedes, and Beizl was hopelessly envious of them. Today, that would change. She picked up her pace, still careful not to jostle the injured and sleeping salamander. Beizl saw her home come into view. It was a low treehouse, only about 3 meters off the ground. The house was a circle, wrapped around the trunk of a grand and thriving fir. Log struts extended from the base of the trunk to the floor of the house, and log stilts around the edge of the house further spread the load to the ground. Much of the house was constructed of woven branches and vines, supported by a skeleton of staves between the trunk and the stilts. The roof was shingled with treebark, shedding any rain the forest canopy didn¡¯t block.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. In truth, the house was more Marta¡¯s than Beizl¡¯s. Marta was an old hermit woman, and a witch, who built this house over many years. Long before Beizl came to her. Sure enough, Marta was standing in the window by the door, watching Beizl return home. The girl had returned more quickly than expected, and the old witch looked out at her with annoyance. ¡°Beizl! What are you carrying?¡± Marta shouted. ¡°Don¡¯t be mad, Marta! I found something amazing!¡± ¡°Whatever it is, it¡¯s going in the pot!¡± Beizl froze at the bottom of the stairway to the house. ¡°Marta please, it¡¯s not food, please just listen!¡± Marta glared at her from the window. ¡°That thing in your basket, do you know what it is, Beizl?¡± Beizl held her basket tight. ¡°Marta, it was dying and I found it and saved it, look!¡± Marta asked again. ¡°Beizl! Stupid girl, that isn¡¯t what I asked you! Do you know what that is?¡± ¡°Marta please just listen! I want to-¡± Marta opened the door and came down the stair, glaring. ¡°Beizl, answer me, do you know what that is?¡± Beizl was scared of what Marta may do to the salamander. ¡°It¡¯s a monster.¡± Marta had reached Beizl by now. She grabbed the basket and set it aside. ¡°Why in the world did you bring a monster to our home, Beizl?¡± Beizl looked down at her feet, and Marta grabbed her by the chin to look her in the eyes. ¡°Look at me Beizl. Why did you bring a monster to our home?¡± Beizl¡¯s eyes began to well. ¡°It was¡­ the langostinos were killing it, and I felt¡­ really sad for it, and I really wanted to show you that I can do the stuff in the stories, and¡­¡± Marta clicked her tongue and released Beizl¡¯s chin. She picked up the basket, with the sleeping salamander in it, and started walking back up the stairs. Beizl cried, fearing for sure that Marta would kill the salamander and throw it in the pot. She followed right on Marta¡¯s heels up the stairs, begging, pleading, crying for the salamander''s life. Marta ignored her, and brought the salamander to the house¡¯s big sigil pot, full of gently simmering stew. The outside of the pot was wreathed in sigils of heat and fire, engraved into the cast cupralum, such that it maintained a soup-making temperature. It warmed itself, anything put into it, and the house around it. She dumped the salamander from the basket, onto a flat board. Beizl screamed to not kill it, she pulled at Marta¡¯s clothes, she stamped her feet, and still Marta ignored her. Marta put her hands on the salamander. She felt its heartbeat, she inspected its wounds, she moved its legs, she looked into its mouth. Then, she stopped for a moment, and thought. She asked Beizl if she had Willed it to sleep, and Beizl said she had. Beizl by now had mostly stopped crying, and watched Marta work Marta retrieved a mortar and pestle, and put into it a few things from her medicine chest: Ground willow bark, cannabis bud and oil, and a few flakes of dried poppy sap. She quickly ground the materials into a rough paste. Then she wiped the salamander¡¯s entire body with a clean wet rag, before beginning to apply the medicine. Marta worked gently and swiftly. She used a wooden skewer to pick any debris from the salamander¡¯s wounds. She packed the deep wounds with the paste, stopping the bleeding and sealing them from outside debris. She spread the medicine thinly over its shallow wounds. To finish, she mixed some soup from the sigil pot with a small amount of wine, and used a straw to feed it directly into the salamander¡¯s stomach. Finished with her work, she turned to Beizl. The child¡¯s eyes were red and puffy from crying, snot ran over her lips, drool hung from her chin, and she hiccuped. ¡°Clean your face, child. If the salamander lives, it will be yours.¡± Marta left Beizl, and went to the other side of the house, to work at her quilting frame. ========================= The Salamander began to rouse. As it did, it had a waking dream, a hypnopompic vision of claws and shells. It ate the claws and shells, and was in turn eaten by the claws and shells. Around and around this wheeled, eating and being eaten for all eternity, consumption and pain all the way down. The Salamander¡¯s eyes opened so slowly, and the fading vision of violence was replaced with dim light and walls. For the first time in the salamander¡¯s life, it was in a room. Slivers of morning light shone through the ceiling, and the whispers of wind and leaves could be heard overhead, but the firmaments and sky could not be seen. The walls were woven willow and clay, and covered in reed mats, to keep out the wind. The air was warm, much warmer than the water of the pond and creek the salamander knew. It liked it. When the Salamander tried to raise its head, white flashes of pain seized its body. Most of its body was numb, and anything it could feel was distant, but terrible. It could come screaming forth at any movement. Did it still have the parts it couldn¡¯t feel? The salamander had no way to know until it could turn its head to see, but it did not dare try again. It scanned the room with its eyes. It vaguely remembered having lost an eye to the langostinos, but perhaps that was not the case. A reed mat hanging on one of the walls fluttered, and through it came that same upright thing which had stolen the Salamander¡¯s destined death. The Salamander was too tired, too sedate, too injured and exhausted, to so much as hurl a single profanity at the thing. The Salamander simply lay still, watching and listening. Its captor moved around the room with a speed the Salamander had never seen in such a large thing. It was as if a tree had seen fit to take flight in a great wind. It was intimidating, and even if the Salamander could move, it thought better to stay still and avoid attention. Then, the tall thing drew close and looked, and saw that the Salamander was awake. The thing squealed and giggled. The Salamander had never known a sound so beautiful. Calming, pure, clear, serene, joyful. The Salamander felt as though its entire being had been rung like a bell. Its mind was eased, its muscles relaxed, and its eyes closed. No amount of snails, no amount of mantis, no amount of slain langostino, could compare to the satisfaction that was this tall thing¡¯s laugh. And so the Salamander fell once more into sleep, deep and still. SALAMANDER STORY 2-2 - HOM PART 2 CHAPTER 2 HOM On most mornings, Beizl began her day by eating a bit of soup from the sigil pot. Marta would often be spinning thread with her distaff and spindle, or sewing at her quilting frame, by the time Beizl got out of bed, sometimes having worked through the nights when she could not sleep. The soup was made from whatever food was available, with the standard stock being rice and tubers from the nearby village, and milk and cheese from the 2 goats Marta kept. The surrounding wilderness provided seasonally varying meat, nuts, and fruits. With the yearly langostino migration in full swing, for the next few weeks the pot would be stuffed with the claws and tails of the crustaceans. After eating and talking with Marta for a while, Beizl prepared for her daily work. Over her knitted wool shirt and shorts, she put on her open-sided woven wool robe. For now it was a robe, but as she grew it would become a tunic. She tied her broad waist belt to secure her robe, and put her satchel at her left side, with the strap over her right shoulder. In this satchel she carried a small cupralum knife, a gourd bottle, and a bit of cheese for a snack. She tied her straw sandals, put on her straw hat, and told Marta she was beginning her dirty work for the day. She began by cleaning the goat pen, and dumping the dung into a compost pit. The two goats were being particularly ornery, pulling at her clothes and trying to butt her, but Beizl knew how to deal with them. She simply picked up her Goat Stick, a smoothed branch laid next to the goat pen, and brandished it to remind the goats who was in charge. They left her alone. She checked the goat¡¯s water pots, and made note that they would need filling soon. Finally she let the goats loose to forage, knowing they wouldn¡¯t venture too far, and would return before nightfall. She checked the gardens, where medicinal plants were grown to service locals and visitors. Cannabis, for pain relief, sedation, and broadening of the mind. Poppy, from which sap was collected, for sedation and pain relief. Datura, to hasten the heart and induce delirium. Foxglove, for regulation of the heartbeat. These were the plants she knew, but there were more she had yet to learn. She checked them for diseased leaves and stems, and for pests and parasites, and finished her rounds in the garden by watering the plants. She walked the perimeter of their home, checking the condition of the sigil stakes. Beizl struggled with reading and writing sigils, despite her propensity to dream of them, and her ability to force Will into them. She could draw large and simple sigils, but small sigils with fine detail were beyond her ability. She simply struggled to see the small details. Fortunately, many common sigils are simple and easy to draw, with few or no minute details, and can be drawn large while retaining their function. Here, Each stake was engraved with a sigil to repel biting insects. A very common sigil, used ubiquitously even by many who are not practiced in the art. Its form is simple, doesn¡¯t require great precision to function, and it has a straightforward intent that can easily be Willed into it. Under normal circumstances, biting insects will give it a wide berth. After inspecting the sigil stakes, she set to foraging in the woods. She collected acorns, mushrooms, berries, and nearly anything edible she could find. In particular, she was checking the wild jabo grape trees for any freshly ripened berries, recognizable by a dark purple color, nearly black. With winter setting in, the jabo grapetrees would soon stop fruiting, so Beizl wanted to get as many as she could carry. She made a brief stop to eat her cheese and some jabo grapes, taking the moment to enjoy the sounds and smells of the forest, and rest her legs. Shortly after noon, Beizl had filled her satchel with jabo grapes, acorns, and a few winter puffballs. With the day¡¯s dirty work finished, it was time to return home and bathe. Beizl found that Marta had prepared bathing materials for her, and was now laying in the sun for a nap. Laid out for Beizl were two ceramic pots of water, a pot of ashwater, and two washrags. Beizl began her wash by removing her clothes and hanging them on a post. She used the first pot of water and the first rag to wipe off most of the grime she had accumulated over the day. With the ashwater and the second rag, she properly scrubbed her body to remove any sweat and oils that clung to her. Finally, she used the second pot of clean water and her hands to wash away any remaining ash. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! After air drying for a few minutes, with the water chill becoming unbearable, Beizl put her underclothes back on, and joined Marta in her sunbathing nap. ========================= The salamander woke again. The room was the same, but the morning light had turned to evening. The salamander now lay in a bowl of¡­ something. Some kind of shallow film of yellow-brownish water, just enough to coat the salamander¡¯s belly and chin. The salamander stuck its tongue into the yellow-brownish water, and it was delicious. The salamander licked as much as it could without moving anything else, in fear of the pain that may come. Then, gently, gingerly, slowly, with utmost care, it moved to turn its body. Everything still hurt, but its movements were no longer met with screaming rebellion. The salamander moved the rest of its body, one piece at a time, and with each motion the pain faded just a bit. It lapped up the yellow-brownish water as fast as it could move its tongue, then carefully moved its body to reach more, and lapped it up too. When all of the unctuous ambrosia was gone, the salamander became sad. So the salamander did was it always did when it became sad: It sulked. It huffed, it flattened its body against the floor of the empty bowl, it splayed its legs, it grunted and pouted, it stuck out its claws, it- ¡°Claws?¡± The salamander gazed upon them. A pair of pincer claws, extending outwards from just behind its neck. Until the whiny pouting started, the newly grown claws had been limp and numb, folded under its body, out of sight. It opened and closed the claws. It wiggled them back and forth. It shimmied and shook, waggled and waved. If the salamander weren¡¯t exhausted, injured, and away from home, it would have celebrated. It would have climbed atop its rock, it would have hissed and spat at the firmaments and the heavens, it would have rolled and twisted and flopped and danced in jubilation. But it was in an unknown place, grievously injured, and abducted by some two-legged walking obelisk. The salamander concluded that its ideal option was to simply rest, and quietly celebrate these rewards for its valor. If its captor meant to kill it, it would be dead, and escape was not an option. The salamander chose to rest, and before too long it fell back into sleep. ¡­ it was reawoken again. Annoyance and fear together. Something was approaching, something large. Surely its captor. The salamander knew it had no hope, but resolved to die with honor and dignity. It raised its head, clenching its jaw against the pain, and faced the entryway to its room. The thing came in, and immediately behind it, an even larger one. The salamander did not show its fear. It refused. It raised its new claws at the duo of giants, their first brandishing in anger, and prepared to receive. The larger of the two Great Ones pushed the smaller closer to the salamander. Surely this was a test, a coming of age ritual, a mother cat urging its kitten to kill and eat. The smaller of the two put out its hands, and it bared its teeth. Somehow, this gesture was calming to the salamander, not alarming. It slowly relaxed, as the titan¡¯s hands drew closer, palms up and fingers spread. The larger of the creatures made noises. The salamander sensed meaning, but did not understand. ========================= ¡°Maintain calmness.¡± Marta was coaching Beizl as she approached the now-awake salamander. ¡°Assert your Will.¡± Beizl drew closer to the salamander, with every steady breath she extended her hands to it. From a small cup she poured warm water into the dish it was placed on, ensuring it was hydrated and comfortable. She looked at nothing but the salamander, she thought of it being calm, of it listening to her, of commanding it. ¡°No, Beizl. Don¡¯t command. Calmness is.¡± Marta sensed Beizl¡¯s intent with her own Will, and corrected her. ¡°Calmness is the dirt and the wind. You don¡¯t command dirt to be. It¡¯s there without you.¡± Beizl stopped for a moment, faltering. She was afraid of disappointing Marta, of failing to make this monster her pet. Marta sensed this, too. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you tame this monster or not. Only you do.¡± Beizl didn¡¯t understand. Marta said many things that Beizl did not understand. So many things that Beizl cared about, Marta dismissed. Then, so many things that Marta focused on, Beizl couldn¡¯t see the importance of. Why wouldn¡¯t taming the monster impress Marta? Beizl knew taming a monster was a rare and difficult thing, she¡¯d heard the stories of old witches that tamed monsters, and the great things they did. How was Beizl to receive Marta¡¯s praise? What Beizl did know in her own heart was that she couldn¡¯t fail. She couldn¡¯t disappoint Marta. She had to impress, she had to show that she was a good student, a good apprentice, a good witch, and above all that she would be able to take care of herself after Marta died. She listened to Marta¡¯s construction. Dirt Is, wind Is, and Beizl Willed that calmness Is. She did not Will for calmness to be, she Willed that it is. Like the dirt is and the wind is, like the trees and the forest they make up is, the monster is calm. She Willed it as if it were an observation, just as she would observe the monster being before her, just as she observed being in her room, in her treehouse, in her forest. The salamander monster was calm, and it was hers. And so it was. The salamander lowered its claws. It closed its mouth. It turned its head to the side, and allowed Beizl to touch it. She rubbed the top of its head with her fingertip, gently at first, before she was overcome with joy. She squealed. ¡°Yay! Marta I did it!¡± She turned around to hug Marta, but she was gone, back into the other room. Beizl, very briefly, was worried that she had somehow failed and disappointed Marta, but her glee at having tamed the salamander overcame. She turned back to the creature, she pet it, she squeezed it and rolled it around, until it hissed at her for agitating its wounds. She restrained herself to cooing at it, gently rubbing its head and back, and giving it gentle kisses on its forehead. The salamander leaned into her scratching fingers, clearly enjoying being pet and doted on. Beizl stayed awake late into the night, playing with her new salamander monster pet. When sleep finally came for her, she was laying on the floor, on a blanket next to the salamander. SALAMANDER STORY 2-3 - ERAND PART 2 CHAPTER 3 ERAND A few weeks went by like this. Marta and Beizl doing their work, the days gradually becoming cooler, the salamander healing and resting, occasionally interrupted by Beizl playing with it. The takins roved, the yeast fermented wine, the sigil pot simmered, great horned millipedes dug their mating pits, and the deciduous trees shed their leaves. Marta was at her quilting frame, faced with a conundrum. She was supposed to finish this quilt before the middle of winter. Marta had no need for a quilt, since her sigil pot kept her home warm and she did not travel, but she would make quilts for the nearby villagers using their cloth scraps. The Family Watrkraft was expecting a baby before spring, and they had supplied Marta with materials. But after many years of dutiful service, her cupralum needle broke. A tiny bubble in the casting from which it was cut, and years of work-hardening from heavy use, culminated in the needle snapping mid-stitch. It had split right in the middle, neither piece long enough to form into a stop-gap needle. Marta had no understanding of metalworking, so had no way to mend or remake it. The solution, of course, was simple. ¡°Beizl!¡± she shouted, just loud enough to be sure she was heard from outside. ¡°Come here!¡± ¡°Coming!¡± Beizl¡¯s quiet voice called back. She made her way to Marta ¡°Beizl, I need you to go to the village and bring me a new needle. Can you make the walk?¡± Beizl excitedly nodded her head, nearly vibrating in place. Marta looked her up and down, then leaned out a window to check the weather and the firmaments. ¡°Alright. You¡¯ll need to stay the night. Take the broken needle, go talk to Klovr, and come back with a good needle. You remember Klovr, right? If he gives you any trouble remind him that I saved his dog. Be back before noon tomorrow.¡± Beizl hopped a bit in place, so excited to go to the village, and she was even going alone! She¡¯d spend some time with the other kids, and she¡¯ll tell them all about her new pet. She almost raced out the door right there, grabbing only her shoes and her robe to put over her shirt and shorts, but Marta snapped at her. ¡°Beizl! Jacket and meal or death is real.¡± Beizl metered her excitement just long enough to properly prepare for the coming journey. She quickly drank a cup of soup, then put on her robe, jacket, satchel, a water bottle, shoes, and hat. This time she waved Marta goodbye and set out eastwards. One last look back at the house, and Beizl shouted to Marta, ¡°Feed my pet while I¡¯m gone! And don¡¯t let him get dry!¡± She pointed right at Marta¡¯s face in the window as she said this, and Marta waved her off, wordlessly signaling ¡°Obviously¡±. ========================= For an adult, the journey to the forest¡¯s edge would only take about an hour. For Beizl¡¯s stubby little 9 year old legs, it took her twice the time. Beizl walked eastward for about two hours, taking frequent short breaks, before she reached the demarcation between the forest and the farmland of the village. Behind Beizl, the world was green and shaded. Ahead of her, the skies were open, the horizon and the firmaments span uninterrupted but for the clouds and mists. She could see the horizon rising upwards into the blue, guiding her bewondered eyes upwards to the firmaments, and the great heavenly bats soaring amongst them. In all directions but the canopy behind her, she could see the mountains, rivers, forests, and plains of the world. She could see telltale signs of far-distant peoples, their farms, their roads, their cities. Far to the north stood the near tower, and farther still to the south the far tower. To the east, past the village, she could see the line of night, the shadow cast by the rotating firmaments, slowly creeping down towards where she now stood. Beizl¡¯s destination was the village across the furrowed field. She¡¯d been here several times, but had never made the trip entirely alone. This was a first for Beizl. She was very happy that she¡¯d managed it, and that Marta trusted her to go alone. In this village lived three families, a total of 73 people. A few were even around Beizl¡¯s age, and she much enjoyed playing with them.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. She wasn¡¯t here for play, though. She had a job to do, and that came first. She was to find Klovr, present to him the broken needle, have it repaired or replaced, and return home the next day. Only after the needle was dealt with would she begin to play with her friends. She was determined to not disappoint Marta. She sprinted on her tiny legs to the nearest dirt path through the field, she ran out of breath about halfway across the field, and she half-jogged the remaining distance. The village had a lookout tower made from three tall tree trunks, crossed halfway up and tied at their midpoints and their tips. A lookout noticed Beizl approaching, and blew a simple tune on their whistle to notify the village that they had a visitor. The lookout waved their hat at Beizl, and Beizl waved back excitedly. A few adults and children came to the edge of the field, and when they saw the visitor was Beizl, several of the kids ran out to greet her. The first two to reach her were the twin boys Gus and Gis av Watrkraft. They were 9 years old, just like Beizl, with short straight black hair and pale freckled skin. They stopped just short of crashing into her and hugged her from both sides, jabbering about various things that had happened recently in the village. ¡°Beizl you have to see the snake I found!¡± ¡°I ran way faster then Gus the other day Beizl!¡± ¡°Nuh uh! We¡¯re the same speed!¡± ¡°Beizl there was this big wind like WOOSH and I thought the tower was gonna blow over but it didn¡¯t and then-!¡± While the twins babbled, the other kids caught up one by one. Tortos av Wilr was next, a tall boy, 12 years old. His hair was brown and wavy, about shoulder length, and his skin was dark brown and smooth, like good clay. He separated the twins from Beizl and hugged her himself. He welcomed Beizl with the characteristic measure and calm that earned him his name. Next was Nidl av Wilr, a 10 year old girl. She shadowed her older brother Tortos, always following just behind him. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was tied in many small braids, and her skin was a light brown, similar to Beizl¡¯s. She reached out and held Beizl¡¯s hands, and did a little standing dance with her. She spoke to Beizl with her awkward, stilted speaking style. ¡°Hi Beizl¡­ have- have you seen any¡­ any wyldmen recently?¡± An older girl flicked Nidl on the back of the neck, and Nidl jumped back in surprise, rubbing the point of impact. ¡°Nidl, that is very rude!¡± The wielder of the flick was Cupro av Peipr, a 15 year old girl, who frequently took it on herself to help look after the children. She was on the short side for her age, with extremely pale, nearly translucent skin. Her curly brown hair was tied into a waist-length ponytail, with wood rings along its length holding it tight. Cupro started ushering the kids towards the buildings. ¡°Night is coming, kids, let¡¯s get back inside. Beizl, would you like to wash?¡± Beizl replied, ¡°No thank you, Cupro. I need to talk to Klovr.¡± Everyone halted for a moment, then Cupro spoke. ¡°Oh, Beizl, you¡­ let¡¯s get inside.¡± They walked into the village together. As they passed the adults at the threshold, Beizl looked up at their faces. Something troubled them. ========================= For several weeks, the salamander had healed. It had rested and recuperated. It had slept, ate, drank, and had noises made at it by its captors. Above all, it had been plotting. Biding its time. Every night that the smaller of its captors observed it, every night that the duplicitous warden feigned weakness by laying on the floor, the salamander was devising its escape. On this night, the smaller of the jailers had not come. All was silent. This was the time for the salamander to take action. The salamander raised itself on its mantis legs and its langostino claws. It crawled over the edge of the dish it had laid in for these past weeks. It scuttled slowly to the curtain that divided the room, and it peeked under the gap. It kept still and silent for a time, watching for any movement, listening for any sound. Still nothing. It peeked its head out from under the curtain, and again lay still, watching for movement and listening for sound. Again, still nothing. The salamander made a break for it. It scrambled towards the window. It slammed into the wall. It desperately reached for the lower ledge of the window, well out of reach. It did little jumps on its spindly legs. In its frustration, it took to simply banging its head and claws against the wall, hissing and screaming in its tiny voice. To the salamander¡¯s shock and horror, the larger of the wardens had awoken. With great strides it approached the salamander. ¡°How?¡± thought the salamander. ¡°I moved with silence, under the cloak of darkness!¡± It wheeled around to face its captor, who still appeared to be rousing from sleep. From it rolled forth a gravelly rumble, which washed over the salamander as a tide of horror, indecipherable and deafening. ¡°Always some kind of goatshit making life complicated¡­¡± The salamander opened its mouth and raised its claws at the giant. Hopeless as the situation may be, it was resolute to fight to its last. With only two fingers, the giant simply swatted the claws aside and grabbed the salamander by the throat, lifting it into the air. ¡°Placid.¡± This spoken word, the salamander somehow understood. It could not resist. It lowered its claws, it ceased its writhing, and allowed its body to be taken into the great one¡¯s arms. =========================