by Forthright
Caleb wanted to ask what would happen if he did.
And somehow, Eri understood his question and answered. “I will become your treasure.”
Josheb’s arm was tight and tighter, and his voice was sharp against Caleb’s ears, but Caleb wasn’t listening with his ears anymore. It was so easy to let everything else slip away. His world was a crystal and a star and a startling song that could only be true.
Long Sleep
Caleb lost three days.
At least, that’s what Josheb told him when he woke. His younger brother had moved into his room, sitting with his injured leg propped across the entrance, the missing camera in his hands.
“You got it back,” Caleb said, voice rusty.
“I reasoned with them. They had a change of heart.”
He didn’t believe that for a second. “No, really?”
“Made a pest of myself. Assured them this would shut me up.” Josheb grinned. “Between you and me, bigfoot’s a pushover.”
“I know.”
Josheb levered himself up and passed Caleb a cup. “They’ve been keeping you going on this stuff. Don’t ask me how they feed it to you.”
“You don’t know?”
“You don’t want to know.” Josheb smiled crookedly. “I’m not the only one who’s been worried. Where’d you go, anyhow?”
It was an interesting way to phrase it. “Something like a dream, I guess. Three days, though?”
He waved his phone. “Checked on you every three hours.”
Caleb took a long swig of water, which wasn’t just water. There was a sweet aftertaste, reminiscent of honey. He peered into the cup, trying to place the flavor. Could it be one of the ingredients for star wine? Either the nectar or … was there pollen involved?
Pulling his field journal from under the pillow, he made a careful note of the date and scratched at his cheek. He’d been shaved. Recently. Strange to think he’d been so out of it.
“You had a smile on your face the whole time,” Josheb announced casually.
“It was a nice dream.”
“They put away your singing rock. I wouldn’t be surprised if Andor buried it.” Coming to sit on the bed, he lightly punched Caleb’s shoulder. “I thought we agreed that we’d head into adventures together.”
“I’m right here.” Caleb jotted a few details from Eri’s lyrics. He’d have to add more later, when Josheb wasn’t hovering. “And we’re definitely in all of this together.”
“Three days,” he said softly. “You were as good as gone for three days.”
“You leave for months on end,” Caleb pointed out.
Josheb pulled at his beard, messed up his hair, and promised, “Not anymore.”
“Not anymore,” he agreed. Because he knew it was true. But he couldn’t explain why. “How long until breakfast?”
Checking his phone, Josheb said, “Sun won’t be up for a while, but I’m beginning to think our cohorts don’t sleep. Like, at all.”
Cohorts. It was nicer than captors.
And if Eri was right, it was true.
Josheb elbowed him and asked, “In the mood for ravioli?”
With a nod and a smile, Caleb replied, “Set me up.”
Show Dog
“It’s September.” Caleb marked his place with his pencil before tucking the field journal under his pillow.
“I can tell,” said Josheb, who was going through his morning workout. “Days are getting shorter. Nights are getting colder.”
“Leaves are starting to change. Early gold in the aspens.”
“I didn’t realize you were still keeping track.”
“It’s my job. Documentation, remember?” Josheb’s phone battery had given up days ago, so Caleb was down to analog methods of timekeeping.
“We might be stuck here a while.”
Caleb snorted. “I’ve been trying to tell you that since we got here.”
“Yeah, well … you’re the smart one.”
“Breakfast?” suggested Caleb.
“Smells good enough to eat.”
They followed their noses to the kitchen and drew up short. Andor and Hesper were at the table, and Oaken was at the hearth, stirring the morning stew.
“He’s back,” whispered Josheb.
Caleb elbowed his brother and said, “Welcome back, Oaken.”
He turned from his task and smiled a greeting.
“Uhh … he’s not alone.” Josheb pointed to the shaggy rug before the fire. A big dog with reddish fur sprawled beside Nessie, tongue lolling, tail wagging. “Hey, Oaken. You went and bought a dog?”
Hesper translated his question, then relayed, “Oaken says, ‘he followed me home.’”
They went back and forth like this, with Hesper stuck in the middle.
“Why’d he follow you?”
“Curiosity.”
“Is he a wolf?”
“A dog.”
Josheb wasn’t giving up. “What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t want to say. Call him whatever you want.”
Caleb dropped onto his usual chair. He thought a better question might have been … who didn’t want to say. Because Hesper said it in a way that gave him the distinct impression that she meant the dog. Not Oaken.
“He’s a beaut,” remarked Josheb. “A regular show dog. What should we call him?”
Hesper raised both hands. “Nuh-uh. I’m out.”
“You always have an opinion,” countered Josheb. “Why the change of heart?”
While they lapsed into their usual banter, the animal in question heaved to his feet and ambled to the table, ducking underneath. A moment later, Caleb had a long muzzle prodding him in vulnerable places.
Copper eyes peered up at Caleb with startling intelligence, and he quickly slipped him a chunk of mystery meat from his bowl. It was graciously received, and the dog stayed put, with his head resting against Caleb’s thigh.
While he didn’t normally encourage begging at the table, it seemed wise to befriend an animal of this size, so he offered another tidbit. The dog took it carefully, looking more amused than adoring. In fact, Caleb got the idea that the dog wasn’t begging so much as daring him to continue.
Three bowls of stew later, the edge was finally off Caleb’s hunger, and he’d made a fast friend. In fact, when he went outside to stretch his legs, the dog remained by his side. Caleb found a seat on an upturned log beside the firepit that he thought of as Andor’s grill.
Roughing up the dog’s fur, he admired its rich hue. Dark auburn was striking enough, but the eyes really put this dog in a class all his own. The copper had an almost metallic sheen, and the pupils were narrow. More like a cat’s than a canine’s.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” With a sidelong look in the direction of the den’s entrance, Caleb softly confided, “The stars were singing about a newcomer.”
Peaked ears snapped forward. Like he was interested.
“I don’t think it could be you, though.” He scruffed and scratched, earning a lick to the chin. “Close, but not quite. Unless I misheard or misremembered.”
Those eyes searched his with an intensity that called for more.
And since it had always been easy for Caleb to confide in dogs, he confessed, “I could have sworn they were talking about a cat.”
On Tiptoe
The dog—whom Josheb dubbed Sasquatch—stuck so close, Caleb was tripping over him all throughout the day. And the night. And the next day, as well. After a week, Sasquatch’s dedication was becoming embarrassing.
He tagged along for barefoot walks with Nessie.
He watched Hesper give Caleb his shaves.
He ate exclusively off of Caleb’s plate.
He posed when Josheb decided Sasquatch needed documenting.
He kept an eye on Caleb while he bathed.
He looked on while he updated his field journal.
He lay with his head resting over Caleb’s heart every night.
Which was
comforting in a way, but also troubling, since Sasquatch made a point of staying between Caleb and Andor at all times. Like a bodyguard with a mission. Not so long ago, Caleb might have appreciated having an over-achieving guard dog between him and his captors.
But no contact with Andor meant other things, too.
Caleb couldn’t touch his ring, so he couldn’t hear the stars. And there were no more opportunities for Andor to pass along his flask. Caleb craved the taste of star wine. Even one mouthful would have been welcome.
But how did one sneak away from a dog who never relaxed his guard?
“Stay.” Caleb tried for a no-nonsense tone, but it was difficult to deepen a whisper. “Stay, Sasquatch.”
Only, when he tried to sneak out, the dog padded after him.
“Stay,” he insisted, pointing to his bed. “Wait here. Please?”
Sasquatch edged closer, tail wagging.
“You’re an excellent watchdog, so I’m going to give you an important job.” Caleb was desperate enough to try anything. “Watch over Josheb for me. Keep my brother safe while I’m away.”
Sasquatch’s attention shifted to the other brother.
“Stay. Protect Josheb.”
The dog whined softly, but he went to lie on the floor beside Josheb’s bed, muzzle on his paws, gaze mournful.
Caleb slipped out and tiptoed down the passage. He wasn’t surprised to find a candle lit in the kitchen or Andor seated beside the hearth—feet propped, frown firmly in place as he stared into the embers. Until Caleb stepped into the open.
Andor’s eyes widened, then shifted to the passage, as if expecting Sasquatch to appear.
Swallowing his pride, Caleb pantomimed drinking. “Is there any wine? I was hoping …?”
With a hesitant tone, Andor asked something. But then he curled his fingers, beckoning Caleb closer.
“I really need to learn a few words. Maybe Eri could teach me?” Pointing to the door, he practically begged, “Can I visit Eri? I was actually, really hoping … you know?”
With another long look at the inner passage, Andor wrestled briefly with the ring on his finger and extended it.
It wasn’t exactly what he wanted. But they were closer to an understanding.
Caleb strode forward and closed Andor’s fingers over the ring, then plucked at his sleeve and pointed at the door. “Eri. Please? Will you take me to see the stars?”
All of Andor’s hesitation vanished, replaced by the same kind of pleased look he’d shown when Caleb complimented his wine. With slow movements, he took Caleb by the wrist, pressed his ring against his palm, and closed Caleb’s fingers around the crystal. Working his jaw, he spoke a single word. In English. “Peace.”
“Peace,” Caleb readily agreed, elated that Andor was making an effort.
With a grunt, Andor swept him off his feet and smuggled him out the door.
They stopped in a different cave long enough for Andor to pass him three cups and to shoulder a squat cask. It was all very secretive and celebratory, like the stars were welcoming Caleb home. He was jittery with anticipation. Or maybe it was just the cold.
“Should have brought a jacket,” he mumbled. “And we need to have a serious discussion about socks and shoes.”
Andor grunted.
He might have been smiling.
Caleb wished he knew why.
Then again, not everything in life needed to be documented.
Complaints Filed
Hours later, Andor tucked Caleb back into his own bed. The blankets were bliss. Everything was. Possibly thanks to the star wine. How much had he consumed? Andor had topped off his cup every few sips, so it was difficult to guess. Caleb was beyond buzzed and happy to have pulled off something daring.
“Lived up to my name,” he mumbled to Sasquatch.
The dog grumbled and snuffled and sniffed and sneezed.
Then a hand was stroking his hair, and two voices rumbled overhead. Gruff, but not angry. Andor bent over him, his expression troubled. But he touched Caleb’s shoulder and said, “Peace.”
Happiness washed over Caleb. He’d befriended bigfoot.
Andor blinked, and he looked embarrassed. But he kept his promise and handed over his flask before hurrying away. Caleb curled around it, pleased with his prize. He could share it with Josheb tomorrow.
It took a few moments to register that someone was still petting his hair. He turned, squinting into the dim. Candlelight wasn’t much to go by. “Whossat?”
“Sasquatch.”
“Oooh.” He caught the faint sheen of copper, which corroborated the claim. “That’s all right, then.”
“You are thoroughly drunk, dear boy.” Even in an undertone, it was a big voice.
Caleb didn’t know the face, but he liked the smile. And something even more important. “You speak English.”
“As it happens, I do.” Sasquatch gravely added, “I can hear you out, if you have any complaints about your treatment here.”
So easy. He definitely had one. “Warm socks, please.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Mmm … more star wine?” He hugged the flask to his chest. “Ever tasted it?”
“It’s an especial favorite of mine.” Sasquatch leaned closer and his voice took on a sing-song quality. “To drink star wine is to remember the scent of ancient trees and the kiss of starlight and to hope for a paradise where remnant songs are sung in full.”
“Yasss,” Caleb agreed, clumsily patting Sasquatch’s arm. “Just like that, only better. The best.”
“It is.” Sasquatch’s gaze was so full of concern. “Have you been mistreated in any way? Even in … intangible ways?”
“Is that what you think?” Caleb was a little offended.
“No.” Sasquatch smiled. “You clearly trust Andor. And he is careful with you.”
“Not at first.” Looking back, it was easier to see it now. “Mmm … guess we worried him almost as much as he worried me.”
“You made peace with the First of Bears. Not many do. He isn’t what I’d call safe. Too close to the old ways.”
“Didja know he’s bigfoot.”
“Bigfoot is a myth.”
Caleb’s eyelids were growing heavy. “So’s Sasquatch, but here you are.”
“You’re a long way from home, Caleb Dare. Why come here, of all places?”
“Map. Tip. Star. Trip. And Josheb is Josheb.” He was the reason for most of the trouble Caleb found himself in. “My brother was looking for bigfoot. Funny, huh?”
“Not really.”
And because it was the direction his thoughts had been taking, Caleb added, “I wasn’t looking, but I found something, too.”
Sasquatch, who’d been sniffing the air, patted his cheek, keeping him awake. “What did you find?”
“Where I belong.”
“That’s unexpected. You want to stay?”
Caleb snorted. “I want to go. With Josheb. We’ll go and go and go. Josheb will love it.”
Shaggy eyebrows furrowed. “So you do want to go home?”
“I am home.” He shook his finger at Sasquatch. “I’m home wherever I can hear the stars. Mine most of all. See?”
Big hands cupped his face, angling him toward the softness of candlelight. With a low chuckle, Sasquatch said, “Maker bless. It’s slyly done, but it’s done.”
“Oh, that?” Caleb rubbed his forehead. “They kissed me.”
“Say no more. I know a thing or two about souls who’ve been marked by stars.”
And Sasquatch said no more himself. Just went back to being a show dog. And since everything was quieter that way, Caleb could finally drift off to sleep.
Clink Cups
“Okay …? What’s this?” Josheb asked in an undertone.
“Star wine.”
“And why did we have to come this far to taste it?”
They were about half a mile from the nearest entrance to Andor’s den. Far enough to guarantee a smidgen of privacy.
/> Caleb wrestled with the flimsy can opener from their camping kit. “Because … I don’t know. Does there have to be a reason?”
“Gimme.” Josheb expertly opened two servings of ravioli.
“I just wanted you to get a share.” Caleb handed his brother a fork.
“Because someone shared it with you?”
“Yeah. This is Andor’s flask. You were almost right about the distillery. He’s a wine-maker.”
“And his special reserve pairs well with Italian?” Josheb munched cold pasta.
Caleb angled his shoulder to keep Sasquatch’s nose out of his mid-morning snack “There wasn’t much else to work with.”
“Here, boy.” Josheb offered the dog a ravioli, chuckling when Sasquatch delicately slid it from the tines. “I mean, I knew there was booze. Hard to miss the barrels. And I asked Hesper about it, but she only knows the basics about Skypact business dealings. Mostly by reputation. This is her first time here, and honey mead is her branch of the family’s stock and trade.”
“Wait. Did you say … Skypact?”
“Apparently, it’s stamped on every blessed barrel. It’s Andor’s surname. Well, they call it their clan name. Andor Skypact. Oaken, too. He’s Andor’s son. Their wine’s in high demand, but they’re a two-man operation. Except it’s more properly males. Or more specifically, boars. Since they’re bear clan.”
Caleb sort of wished he’d brought along his field journal. “You know a lot.”
“Been asking a lot of questions.” Josheb offered Nessie a ravioli. “Interviews—it’s what I do. Investigative journalist, remember?”
“You’re actually doing your job? Even though they’ll never let you publish the story?”
“Not much else to do.” Josheb chewed thoughtfully. “We’re really in deep this time. Not sure we’re actually in trouble, but it’s like you said at the start—bigger than both of us.”
Skypact. That had to refer to Andor and Eri, didn’t it? People knew about star wine. It might even be world-famous. But did anybody else know that the father and son brewers had a silent partner?
