by Forthright
Josheb offered a breathless, “Oh.”
Caleb relaxed and whispered, “Yeah.”
First Light
A hand shook Caleb’s shoulder, dragging him from dreams.
“Storm’s passed,” said Josheb. “Come with me?”
He grunted and fumbled for another layer. Everything felt damp, especially his boots, but it hardly mattered. Soft pattering beyond the tent walls suggested a lingering drizzle. At the very least, the trees were still dripping. Unless the sun broke through, there wasn’t much hope of drying out.
Caleb emerged from the tent, immediately at odd ends, since the first thing he usually did in the morning was walk Nessie. It felt wrong, standing there without a leash in his hand. Crossing to her food dish, he tipped out the previous night’s rainwater. Then stuffed it in the top of his backpack, along with a packet of emergency kibble. “She might be hungry.”
“Good thinking,” said Josheb. And they trudged toward the river.
The ground underfoot was a misery of mud. Caleb gave up on the trail, which had been reduced to a slick rut, filled with standing water. Fallen leaves were nearly as slick, so he picked his way through stands of fern and other scrubby brush. It was less slippery, but the leaves wet his pantlegs below the knees so thoroughly, he might as well be wading through water.
“Try whistling?” suggested Josheb.
Caleb used his come along whistle, which didn’t really carry far. But even the breathy tweeting between his teeth seemed loud. The woods were too quiet, and the hush he felt put him on edge. “Hey, Josheb?”
His brother turned.
“Something’s not right.”
“How so?”
“Do the woods feel empty to you?”
Josheb peered around, a frown on his face. Backtracking, he took hold of Caleb’s wrist and gave the surrounding woods a longer look. “Let’s call it a good sign,” he finally muttered.
“What kind of sign?”
With a roll of his eyes, Josheb quietly answered, “This would be an apex predator kind of sign.”
“I was afraid of that.”
As they trudged onward, the drips turned to drizzle, further dampening Caleb’s spirits. He didn’t want to meet an apex figment. Unless it was one of those singing stars. Were they around by day, hanging out behind the blue of the sky or these persistent clouds?
I could use a song right about now.
His weak whistling couldn’t compare.
Something bright flashed in his peripheral vision, and Caleb paused to look. Lightning? If so, no thunder followed.
“Caleb.” Josheb beckoned urgently.
On the riverbank below, something had changed. A shadowy bulk dominated the area near the spot where the stone column should have been. In the dim light, it was impossible to tell what it was. However, Caleb could feel its presence. Big. Dark. Aware.
“That’s alive,” he whispered urgently.
Josheb, who’d already taken a step toward it, skidded several feet down the muddy slope. Turning back, he hissed, “What?”
Caleb’s heart lurched as the misshapen lump shifted and turned, revealing itself to be an enormous bear. Were they supposed to get this big? Surely even a grizzly wouldn’t rival an elephant. “B-bear!” Voice snapping under the strain of sudden terror, he flung an arm toward his brother. “Come back! Quick!”
With an oath, Josheb scrambled uphill, and they took off together along the embankment. Crashing through underbrush, hardly daring to look back, Caleb begged, “What do we do? Where do we go?”
“Stay close!” ordered Josheb. “Keep up.”
Caleb struggled to orient himself on the map he’d memorized. Had there been any shelter they could reach before they were outrun? The bear bellowed, and Caleb’s knees went weak. Stumbling, he grabbed at a tree to keep from slipping, but the tree tilted toward him. Everything was confusing, then, because the ground underfoot was crumbling away in a sloppy blunder.
Balance lost, he tried to step back from the edge. Rocks and trees were tumbling, and he was caught up in their momentum.
The last thing Caleb saw clearly was Josheb lunging for him, hand outstretched.
But they failed to connect.
Natural Disaster
Caleb groaned into awareness—cold, wet, and confused.
Someone loomed over him, blocking the raindrops. Focusing was difficult, but a hand patted his cheek, and words rumbled, deep as thunder and just as impossible to interpret. Squinting, he made out a worried face. Warm hands smoothed the hair out of his eyes.
He was a large man with a broad face. His skin was brown, and his eyes were dark. When he spoke again, the words were foreign. But he spoke slowly, and his tone was apologetic.
“Not your fault,” Caleb mumbled. “So much rain.”
With a crooning sound and a sigh, those big hands began scooping earth and straightening Caleb’s limbs. He kept up a steady stream of words, probably an explanation or reassurances, but it was no use. The guy had no English.
Teeth chattering, Caleb tried to sit up, only to be scolded. It was all in the tone. Don’t move.
But Caleb was alert enough to want to know where Josheb was. “My brother,” he croaked, trying to look around. “Where’s my brother?”
Another voice snarled nearby, and as Caleb’s rescuer turned to answer, more features came to light. Woven cloth. Tasseled sash. Pointed ears. Clawed hands.
Caleb whimpered.
The man gestured with both hands and offered soft words.
He worked steadily to shift the clinging earth and jabbing stones.
The grumpy voice came closer, and Caleb turned to see a shaggy mountain lumbering closer. It had to be bigfoot. Which was alarming on several levels. Caleb may have whimpered again.
But then light streaked near, and a face hovered above his—elfin, luminous, and stern. It rested a finger against its lips.
Hush?
Caleb was completely ready to give in to fear when this glowing person carefully rested a hand against his cheek. A voice filled the space where songs belonged. Caleb heard it, but not with his ears.
“Peace, friend. You are safe.”
Caleb managed a small nod.
This thing, this person—they weren’t human. Josheb would love this. Where was Josheb? Caleb tried to crane his neck to see.
Concerned sounds were coming from the big guy again, who seemed to be arguing with bigfoot. Caleb hoped vaguely that his rescuer won the debate.
“Sleep,” urged the radiant one, whose smile held sympathy. “Andor does not want you to know the path to his den. This is his right.”
Caleb realized why the voice was so calming. He’d heard such voices before … and treasured them. “Sing me a lullaby?”
Their lips curved into a lovely smile, and somewhere far overhead, a playful cascade of notes joined the raindrops as, with alarming speed, Caleb sank into slumber once more.
Cave Dweller
When Caleb next opened his eyes, he was indoors. Probably. Light from a pair of candles on a table showed walls that appeared to be shingled. And the ceiling overhead was all irregular shapes and shadows. Like bare stone. Was he in a cave?
As far as he could tell, he was alone. Not so much as a figment in sight. Shifting under the weight of too many blankets, he realized several things at once. His clothes were missing. He was clean, even his hair, so someone had washed him. And he’d been bandaged.
The bed was strange. A pad of thick fur beneath. Very ticklish. The blankets he pushed aside were a variety of fabrics and textures. Some woven. Some fine enough to pass for silk. All clean and smelling of sunshine.
Caleb swung his feet to the floor and touched more fur. An unsettlingly animalistic touch. But he had more urgent things on his mind. Like finding a place to relieve himself.
Finding his feet, he tottered forward and leaned against the table. Yeah, he was definitely hurt. But only bumps and bruises. And maybe some scrapes, given the uncomfortabl
e stickiness under his bandages. Unfamiliar herbaceous smells suggested a home remedy had been smeared here and there.
He really wanted a bath. But first a bathroom. Provided this cave had plumbing. Maybe he should just go outside? Hauling one of the blankets around his shoulders, Caleb shuffled into a dim hallway. Which way was out? All he could do was guess.
The first room he encountered was a dead end lined with large barrels.
Three similarly equipped chambers later, he figured he was in someone’s wine cellar.
Rounding a corner, he found his way barred by the shaggy, scowling person who might not be bigfoot, but had probably been mistaken for him by the last group of campers.
Caleb took a step back.
Two steps later, he hit a wall.
Mister Big huffed and grumbled something unintelligible.
Upright and up close, it was easier for Caleb to tell that he resembled the man who’d pulled him from the landslide. He was similarly burly and brown, but he was vastly more unkempt. A furry coat hung open, revealing a dark gold tunic, and several necklaces lay against the nubbled cloth. Caleb caught the glint of crystals, but one necklace looked to be entirely made of teeth. Most imposing was Mister Big’s hair, a mess of thick dreadlocks that hung to his hips.
“I’m lost. I need a toilet.”
Dark eyes narrowed.
Caleb bit his lip and made what he hoped was a universal gesture.
Mister Big grunted and turned. His words, while strange, sounded like a command.
Following, Caleb found himself back where he’d started. Moving to the corner, the big man hooked his foot around a squat, lidded clay pot that had been mostly lost in shadows. Dragging it into the open, he made a gesture that did indeed translate universally.
“Chamber pot. Got it.” Caleb self-consciously adjusted the drape of his blanket. “Can you tell me where my brother is?”
With another grunt, Mister Big left.
Caleb had mixed feelings about the chamber pot, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He was missing all kinds of things now—toilet paper, hand soap, underpants. But all of that ceased to matter when the click of claws announced Mister Big’s return. And he wasn’t alone.
“Nessie!” Dropping to his knees, Caleb threw his arms around her and accepted an enthusiastic face-washing.
She was fine.
A length of knotted cord had been looped through her collar; it was the same golden hue as Mister Big’s tunic. Nessie’s belly was rounded by a good meal. Caleb pet and apologized to her, too relieved to be self-conscious.
One gruff word.
Caleb turned.
Mister Big pointed to the bed and spoke again.
It wasn’t hard to understand. Caleb perched on the bed’s edge. Nessie clambered up to join him. Mister Big loomed large, and for a moment, Caleb was afraid he’d toss her back to the floor. But he simply untied the cord from her collar.
“Thanks,” Caleb said.
But then the guy dropped to one knee and caught Caleb’s heel. Pulling back didn’t help. Mister Big knotted the cord around his ankle, then tied the other end to the bed frame. Definitely a bad sign.
“I’m a prisoner?”
With a grunt, the shaggy man walked out.
“What about my brother?” Caleb called.
He didn’t get an answer.
Language Barrier
Even though very little changed in Caleb’s environment, he was able to keep track of the passage of time because meals arrived at regular intervals. While he ate, Mister Big took Nessie out and returned her.
It was pointless, given the language barrier, but Caleb asked more and more questions.
“Where is my brother?”
“Can I have my clothes back?”
“Any chance of a bath?”
“Do you have a name?”
“Why can’t I hear the stars anymore?”
“Please. Is Josheb okay?”
He was pretty sure two full days had passed before the pattern changed. Voices carried in the hallway—male and female. And then the first man was back, the one who’d rescued Caleb. Less wild, less gruff. But was he any less a captor?
Dark eyes snagged on Caleb’s leash, and his eyebrows shot up. With a torrent of words, he bent to untie the cord. He sounded irritated.
Caleb stole a look at the woman, who’d remained just inside the door. She gave off the same vibe as the other two. Quite tall. Athletic build. Strong features. But this lady’s hair was short, and her pointed ears were pierced. Caleb registered the lipstick first, since she was smirking. By the time he took in her yellow hightops, he dared to hope.
“Hi,” he managed.
“Hi, yourself.” Her smile widened. “Oaken brought me here to translate.”
“Oaken?”
She indicated the man kneeling beside the bed, petting a delighted Nessie. “He says he’s sorry for Andor’s lack of manners. Are you in pain?”
“A little sore.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Mostly confused.”
More words flowed past as they talked over him.
She said, “He’ll brew a tea to help with the headache.”
With a gentle pat to his shoulder, Oaken excused himself.
“I’m Hesper Merryvale, by the way. Oaken is my mother’s uncle, more or less. He applied to us for help. You’re a long way from civilization.”
Caleb begged, “Where’s Josheb?”
“Your partner? You don’t know?” She made a crooning noise in the back of her throat. “I call that cruel. Follow me.”
Trailing his blanket shroud, Caleb shuffled after her. Why did she say cruel? Had they hidden Josheb’s death from him? Was he going to have to identify the body or something equally gruesome?
But Hesper led him into a room not unlike Caleb’s. Mister Big, whose name hadn’t really stuck with Caleb, was hunched over a narrow pallet, spoon in hand. He was dribbling its contents little by little between Josheb’s parted lips, grumbling all the while. It was an oddly soothing tone. And relief caused Caleb’s eyes to sting.
“He’s your kin?” asked Hesper.
“My younger brother.” Caleb swallowed hard. “He’s okay?”
“Oaken set his leg before leaving to fetch me.” She nudged him closer to the bed, rattling off something to Mister Big. He answered, and she sighed. “It was a bad break. Andor has been keeping him under. He’s essentially drugged.”
Caleb wanted to make sure. Stealing closer, he knelt beside the bed, edging perilously close to the big guy in order to reach. He took Josheb’s hand, which was reassuringly warm.
Hesper growled something at Mister Big, who huffed. A heavy hand settled on Caleb’s shoulder long enough to deliver a squeeze. It felt like an apology.
Caleb embarrassed himself with a sniffle. And accepted it with a nod.
Honey Mead
They weren’t human.
Somehow, that little detail had temporarily escaped Caleb. But it was sinking in, and it was surreal. Really, it should have scared him more. Because … they weren’t human. And that couldn’t be good. Except it wasn’t bad, either.
These people were decidedly strange, and they were definitely intimidating. But there was a courteousness in their treatment of him, and their cooking was excellent. A good meal was a serious mood enhancer.
Having a translator didn’t hurt, either. “Can you ask about my clothes?”
Hesper chuckled and went to speak with the other two. It took long enough for Caleb to imagine several terrible fates for his missing boxer briefs … and his dignity. Walking around in a blanket was inconvenient, even after he rigged it into a sort of toga.
She returned with a solution, though not the one he’d hoped for.
“Oaken says your things still aren’t fit to wear. He’s loaning you these.”
“We’re hardly the same size.” But these garments weren’t tailored on Andor’s or Oaken’s scale. On closer inspection, Caleb was forced to admit, “They should work.
But why does he have clothing in my size?”
“I didn’t ask.” Hesper offered a casual shrug. “I don’t like to be nosey. Those two are pretty private. In fact, I should be thanking you for giving me an in. Do you know how much any sow would give to be where I am now?”
Caleb was sure he’d misheard. “Any … sow?”
“Female.” Hesper’s eyes took on a teasing shine. “Ladies, then. My sisters are sooo jealous. My first cub will be sturdy. Seriously. Thanks for that.”
“Cub,” he echoed uncertainly.
She rolled her eyes and leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me, but we’re bear clan, okay? Boars and Sows. Sleuth or sloth. Litters and cubs.”
Bear clan? Was that a Native American thing? Hesper didn’t really look the part. He’d have guessed mixed heritage, since her features didn’t slot neatly into any of the people groups he was familiar with. Then again … they weren’t human.
So he simply parroted her words, hoping for more. “Bear clan?”
“Andor is a legend, one of the first to remember how to take speaking form. Some even call him First of Bears, at least on this continent. He and his son Oaken look after the bears in these mountains.”
Caleb hummed in what he hoped was an interested way. He needed more information, and Hesper seemed willing enough to fill him in.
“Of course, Andor and Oaken are most famous for their wine. My clan are vintners, too, but our claim to fame is honey mead.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Merryvale’s mead is world-famous. Even little reavers take nips on festival days.” She studied him with a faint smirk. “You have reaver blood. Did you know that?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re probably an offshoot or a throwback. And it probably saved your life.” Lifting her jaw toward the others beyond this room, she cheerfully revealed, “You made Andor very, very angry. But you’re surprisingly sweet, and bears have a weakness for your sort of soul.”
Caleb shook his head, trusting his face to communicate the enormity of his bewilderment.
