by LeRoy Clary
Cinder pulled to a stop a few steps ahead and shouted to the village in general, “Will the owner of this dog call it off?”
Several people either turned to watch them or peeked out from behind partially open doors. Nobody moved to stop the dog. It moved closer with its eyes locked on Cinder. The crowd grew in size to ten or twelve, as villagers paused in their chores or came from inside to watch as if it was a demonstration or show.
Cinder called louder, in a harder tone, “Somebody better get their ass out here and pull this animal away. If I have to kill it, I’ll go looking for the owner and I won’t be happy.”
Rake pulled and strung his bow as if he’d done it a thousand times. His eyes never left the dog. He reached for an arrow and set it to the string.
Cinder had her knife in her hand and said, “Rake, put the bow away. I can handle this. If the dog charges, it dies, but I know how to handle dogs and do not fear them.”
Rake ignored her order as he stepped to one side where he had a clear shot and wouldn’t hit Cinder if he missed. The dog seemed single-mindedly centered on attacking Cinder, its eyes never left its intended prey. Rake stomped his foot and threw his arms wide while shouting to distract it. The startled animal retreated a single step, then advanced on her again, ignoring Rake and his attempts to draw its attention.
Rake called to the people watching, “When it is three steps away, I’ll put an arrow in it.” Then he asked the people nearest to them, “Who does this dog belong to? Will someone answer me?”
“Don’t shoot,” Cinder hissed and turned slightly to display the knife to the dog. “I can back it down.”
The sound of her voice seemed to trigger something in the dog. It charged. Rake’s arrow struck its chest as it leaped at Cinder’s throat, mouth gaping wide open, teeth bared. In the middle of the leap, it snapped at the shank of the arrow that drove into its chest, unable to reach it. In response to the sudden pain, the dog howled as it curled up in midair, still trying to locate the source. Its leaping charge carried it directly into Cinder. The weight of the animal pushed her back a step, where she sat down hard and scrambled out of the way of the snapping teeth of the dying dog.
A scruffy man of about thirty, with a tangled beard, had watched the event from the beginning. Now, he ran forward and shouted at Rake as he balled his fist and shook it, “You killed my animal. You owe me for that, it was an expensive dog.”
Rake went to Cinder’s side, knelt beside her and made sure she was not hurt. The man rushed closer, grabbed Rake by his shoulder and spun him partially around. He held out his hand as he demanded, “Pay me.”
“That was your dog all along?” Rake asked quietly, still kneeling down. The anger he’d been trying to tame for a couple of years erupted inside him, but his voice remained soft and steady, “You stood by and watched that dog attack my friend and you did nothing to stop it, not even when we shouted for you to pull it away. You didn’t even attempt to call its name. You’re right, I do owe you.”
The man kept his hand out, palm up, as he grinned.
Rake slowly stood, allowing the anger and temper to take control as he loomed over the smaller man. As the grin became a lewd smile, Rake’s left fist struck him. The blow was not aimed at the man’s head where it could damage Rake’s fist, but at his unprotected chest and a whoosh of foul air was expelled. To an observer, the man’s feet left the ground and hadn’t landed yet before Rake’s other fist struck the exposed belly.
Cinder climbed to her feet, her eyes on the people watching, and said to him, “You shouldn’t have done that, Rake.”
His temper glowed too hot to listen to her. Rake advanced and kicked the man in his ribs, ignoring the awed villagers and hoping one or more would attempt to help the man whimpering at his feet. The roaring of anger between his ears made him want to vent. Demanded it. As Rake stood over the man, he snarled loud enough for those around him to hear plainly, “How many other innocent travelers have you fleeced that way? Or how many innocent travelers have you hurt with your trained dog? What about the dogs that have died while attacking so you could take a few coins from good people?”
Rake was furious. More than furious. The red anger had blossomed into a rage for the first time in years. He saw from the faces gathered around he was right in guessing this was not the first time a dog had attacked an innocent traveler. He pointed a shaking finger at the nearest, an older man wearing a scar from the side of his eye to his chin. “You. Pick up the damned dog and follow me.”
The response came slow, “It’s not my dog.”
Rake took two steps in one instant, grabbed the man’s shirt in a fist, twisted the material and pulled him closer, his eyes locked on the old man’s. “Do it. Now.”
A small nod from a very scared man was the response.
Rake raised his voice loud enough for everyone in the village to hear, even those inside, “I am a dog lover and what happened here makes me sick. I want to hurt someone else. It might as well be any of you and then I’ll move on to the others in this village who allowed this to happen.”
The old man bent to scoop the dead dog into his arms before Rake fully let go of his shirt. Rake yanked the bloody arrow from the dog and held it high in the air accusing every person with the action. Blood dripped from the point. He took one last look at the man on the ground who owned the dog. Rake shook the arrow at the crowd before snapping the shaft between his fingers like a dry twig. He walked to the center of the street, near the village well. The older man meekly followed; the dead dog still cradled in his arms.
Rake pointed, “Put it down there.” He singled out another man, one younger, with a jut of his chin. It was another one of the crowd that had gathered and followed them as if Rake was performing a part in a play. He snarled, “Where’s the nearest shovel?”
The man pointed to a tool shed a few steps away.
Rake said, “Get it.”
The boy darted off to the shed. Cinder had climbed to her feet and brushed herself off. Her face was scarlet now that she understood what had happened and why, and that the dog would have ripped into her like it would a haunch of venison after not eating for a week. She went to the owner of the dog who was moaning loudly from Rake’s punches and kicks. She shouted at the crowd, “All of you let this ass do this? You stood by and would have allowed that dog to rip me apart? And it has happened to travelers before? You’re all as guilty as him.”
She kicked the dog owner in his ribs. He screamed anew in pain. Then she threw her arms wide to encompass the dozen or more people cowed at her anger. “How could you let this happen? Is this village and the people here so horrible?” She pointed at a woman who stood with both hands covering her mouth in shame, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m talking about you. And to every person I see.”
Rake told the man who had fetched the shovel to dig a hole and bury the dog in the center of the street.
“I didn’t have nothing to do with this,” he mumbled.
“You didn’t stop it, either,” Rake said. “So, you and all your friends here allowed it. You’re as guilty as that ass crying in the street over there. Dig! I want this dog’s grave placed here beside the well to remind everyone of what happened today and how all of you in this village are responsible because you didn’t stop it now, or before. I want every one of you here to build a stone cairn on this location, a tall one, higher than the top of my head. When I return this way, if it is not standing here, or if it is too small to satisfy me, I swear by seven of the nine merciful gods that I will burn every house, barn, and toolshed in this village to the ground and then I will live here in this terrible place a full year to make sure none of you return.”
He paused and took a long breath. Shame revealed itself on every face. More than one shed tears. Rake pointed at the dog’s owner, still on the ground. “If I ever see that man again in this village—I vow I’ll get really angry and burning all the buildings will only be the start of my vengeance. When I’m done, nobody will
ever know a village once stood here. My name is Rake, son of Halford and Irene. I vow this on the lives of my family.”
He strode to those standing and watching, pausing to look each in the eye before moving on. Rake finally glanced at Cinder, whose face had changed from red to stark white at his pronouncement, and with nothing left to say, he strode down the road, hearing her footsteps hurry to catch up. At the edge of the village, he glanced over his shoulder and saw a shovel of dirt fly into the air as one man dug the grave. He had no doubt when he returned there would be a memorial to the dog standing higher than his head, and the dog’s owner would be gone.
Cinder caught up and walked quietly at his side until they entered the forest on the far side of the village. He said, “I’m sorry. My temper gets the better of me.”
“I shouldn’t have ordered you not to kill the dog. It was going to kill me. I saw it in its eyes at the last second as it leaped. It was going for my throat.”
“You were trying to do the right thing. No sin in that.”
“When I figured out what happened, I was so mad I wanted to punch someone, but you took it to a whole new level. Everyone in that village for generations is going to hear the story of what happened today. They’ll talk about it for the rest of their lives.”
“That was not my intent. I overreacted and apologize to you,” Rake said evenly. “But they had better build a proper cairn because I’d hate to have to go back and have to live there a year to fulfill my oath.”
Cinder walked at his side, not complaining he’d gone too far, or that he should have done something else. She said, “When people allow evil like that to exist in their community, they become part of it, intentionally or not. I almost burst out laughing when you told them to build the cairn right in the center of the street. I’ll bet people are already gathering rocks. When visitors ask about it, they will have to tell the story. It will be repeated and repeated. Your name will be known.”
“I like dogs.”
She playfully punched his shoulder, “Then we will have to get one for you.”
He ignored her attempt to humor him and said, “I was going to suggest we bed down soon, but if it’s alright with you, I’d like to keep going to use up some excess energy. And to make sure nobody from back there pays us a visit tonight with swords or noose.”
She said, “I suspect a few of them are upset, but they deserved what you did and more. We can walk all night if you want. You did the right thing. I was so proud of you.”
“I should have killed the dog’s owner, you know. If I’d have had a choice between him and the dog, the dog would be alive. He would be dead.”
“Next time we come this way, we will look him up if he’s around. If the village hasn’t run him off as you told them to do, or if he has trained another attack-dog we should do all you threatened.” Cinder grew quiet and concentrated on walking. Finally, she said, “I’ll start the first buildings on fire.”
The road took a bend because of a bend in the same small river that flowed down from the mountains where they lived. The water they saw flowing beside them may have flowed past their homes before joining other streams to end up in front of them. The road meandered along the muddy bank of the river, and a track angled away. In the dim light, both kneeled and looked carefully. Nobody had gone that way in days, but many had traveled it in the past.
Cinder said, “Not criticizing your tracking skills, but we can step off the road up ahead a few steps where the brush will hide our passing and double-back to follow this track into the forest.”
“I’m just looking for a place to spend the night. A place where we’ll be safe.”
“Follow me,” she ordered.
She intentionally scuffed the ground, left a clear footprint beside a mud puddle, and took a few more steps before sidestepping into the thick brush. Rake followed, as carefully as he could. They went a few steps ahead, then angled back to the track they’d found. It was easy walking, and she took them away from the road into the deeper forest.
They stopped when surrounded by a stand of small evergreen trees. She slipped her rucksack from her shoulders and untied her blankets before he did the same. One blanket to lay on, one to cover each of them. Neither mentioned building a fire. Not tonight.
Rake listened to her regular breathing long after she was asleep. His eyes remained open peering through the tops of the trees where he could see the dark sky and silver stars, his mind on the events with the dog and his reaction. He’d always liked dogs, but so did a lot of people. However, they didn’t threaten to burn down an entire village over the death of one. He hadn’t spent a lot of time around folks other than his family and worried that he didn’t know how to live with ordinary people, the good and bad.
From the shocked expressions he’d registered, he had overdramatized the situation and scared the villagers. However, Cinder hadn’t scolded him once. She seemed to support his actions, which surprised him. He had expected a severe tongue-lashing. Well, maybe not after finding out the dog had been trained to attack travelers so the owner could claim a debt. After that, she seemed on his side but hadn’t said so.
Tomorrow, he would ask her opinion and advice on holding his temper. He didn’t need to leave a path of destruction behind everywhere they went. Perhaps he needed more manners and less anger to live with people. Right was right, but was it his duty to insist everyone do things the way he wanted? If they failed, should he order a cairn built and threaten to burn their homes every time?
A far-off hoot-owl answered his silent question. One nearer hooted in response as if telling Rake that he needed to allow others to be themselves while he tried to be a better person. He could have either paid the man or refused to acknowledge him and kept walking. He even could have punched him once and left. The cairn and threat were too much. A third owl called, and he heard the flutter of bats keeping mosquitoes from him. He liked bats. At their cabin, they had a bat roost built under the eaves and ever since installing it, the mosquitoes had all but disappeared.
Another faint sound drew his attention. One that didn’t belong in the quiet of the night. It sounded like the hoarse whisper of a man, not close, but maybe out on the road trying to be quiet. He quietly climbed to his feet, reached for the bow and quiver, and backtracked to the road. Every move was measured and calculated, honed by years of hunting wary prey. His eyes peered into the darkness, and he used the denser shade under trees to remain out of sight.
Once where he could see the road, he paused and watched both directions. He saw nobody, but, waited and listened. Later, assured nobody was there, he moved back into the shadows and found Cinder. He pulled the top blanket around his shoulders and waited. Sleep still refused to come.
When it did, he slept soundly and woke to the rustling of Cinder moving around. She said, “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”
He smiled. No sense in frightening her by telling about his excursion during the night when there was nothing to be afraid of. His nighttime adventures would remain his secret. He said, “Sorry about yesterday. I reacted too strongly.”
“With the dog?”
“I thought you’d be mad.”
“I am,” she snapped, “At myself. I allowed you to do what I should have done.”
Rake knew there were times to shut up. He suspected this was one of them. He gathered his few things and followed her. About halfway to the road, she paused, knelt and examined the ground before looking up in puzzlement. “You came this way last night?”
“I thought I heard someone.”
She stood and moved more slowly and carefully on the road, eyes on the ground. Before stepping out on the road, she looked in both directions for a long time. When she did move, it was only a few steps before kneeling again beside the soft mud around a puddle.
She said, “Last night two men came down this road. They came from the village you threatened to burn. They returned past here a short time ago.”
“That’s impressive,” he m
uttered.
“Not really. The one wears distinctive boots . . . see? They went that way during the night after we came here because their tracks are over the top of ours. The second set of them returning is clear where they trampled their own tracks, and the water in the puddle has recently been stirred. It’ll settle clear before long.”
“They were looking for us?”
“I assume so, and it was not to present us with gifts, I assure you. That village might yet be burned, but one of the men was probably the dog’s owner, and the other his brother.”
Rake flinched at the tone of her words. “How can you tell that by a set of tracks?”
“I can’t. So, I’ll ask you, who else but a brother would attempt to find you in the dark after what you did and threatened them with back there?”
Her explanation proved she was the better tracker—by far. It also said they should be safe if they continued on their way. Rake felt a touch of the smoldering anger from the previous day returning and briefly considered a return visit today. If he encountered anyone from the village, especially if they were after him, the temper would do more than let a touch of anger do his talking.
Cinder said, “You were right about hearing them last night. But you should have let me go with you.”
“And you were right to move us off the road and into the woods.”
She flashed him a smile that he knew to ignore. He’d made up his mind to travel with her but that he didn’t have to like her. It would be easier that way. Besides, she was quick to admonish, show her superiority, and to question his actions. He wouldn’t forget that in the incident with the dog, she’d ordered him to stand down.
