by Huskyteer
Abby recited the first passage from the book of myths as she met the eyes of the woman who invented the first practical steam engine. “In the beginning, the Great Animals created a Canvas. Then they set to work filling it with whatever they desired. If we displease them, they will fill their Canvas with pain and misery. But if we honor them, they will fill it with joy and wonder.”
* * * *
Abby awoke in the mountains, and the disorientation made her dizzy. She hadn’t dared to come back in months, but the winter had been extremely mild, and spring had brought no rain. The meteorologists all across the country had stated all their calculations predicted the rain should be coming north, but it had stayed to the south. People in the southern regions were suffering from floods while those in the north faced famine from their lost crops. Scientists all across the country were releasing balloons with radio transmitters into the atmosphere to try to figure out what was happening, but all readings were coming back confirming the previous findings. According to them, there was no reason the rain should be south.
She conjured some warm clothes for herself and stood up. The last time she was here, during the plague, she didn’t like the way this place made her feel. She felt exposed, in danger, and just one glance away from being discovered. She remembered playing with the lesser animals that roamed the land and living under the water for hours at a time, observing how this place worked and what wonders the Great Animals could do. Now she was an adult, and that somehow changed everything.
She had appeared exactly where she wanted to be. From here, she could see everything, and she looked over the land and found where the rain was. She concentrated, lifted off the ground and flew down towards it. There was no breeze hitting her in the face, and her clothes did not flap against her body. When she young, this feeling was exotic and exhilarating. Now she feared it.
She dared not fly very far, so she settled down on the forest for cover and ran the rest of the way. She passed the pack of wolves again. They were rolling on the ground, laughing and howling as they chased one another and stepped on each other’s tails.
She passed a red fox that was half her size. The book of myths mentioned this creature, but it had been so long since Abby had thought about Canvas and the book of myths she did not remember what his domain was.
She left the forest and ran for the curtain of rain that was hovering over the southern region of the plains. She willed herself to remain hidden, but she still felt exposed and vulnerable. All around here were the mindless beasts of the plains, created by the cheetah to hunt. She only knew what a cheetah was from depictions in books, and he did not seem to be around.
As she neared the curtain of rain, the ground became saturated and spongy. The swamp turned into an ocean, and Abby concentrated hard to keep her feet above the water as she ran.
She entered the curtain. The water was deeper here, and she was having a difficult time not falling in. Without realizing it, she was standing on an open ocean in the middle of the plains.
A few treetops poked up from the water on the horizon. She saw animals there. One of them looked like the cheetah in a tree. As she neared, she saw the heron in the same tree, a few branches across from the cheetah. The shark wasn’t in sight, but there was a tiny vortex of air a few paces from the tree, and the rain seemed to be radiating from the top of the vortex.
The cheetah clung desperately to the branch. He was larger than any one of the giant wolves Abby passed, and yet the tree branch did not bow under his weight. “You couldn’t have had this fight over the snake’s desert, could you?”
“Then I would have both the snake and the tiger yelling at me,” said the heron. “The snake would whine about his precious sand dunes, and the tiger would yell at me for drowning the cacti and scrub he created in the snake’s domain. At least this place you made entirely yourself.”
“Just apologize to her!”
“I won’t apologize. If she thinks the wind isn’t as important as the rain, we’re through.”
“Really, who else would you want to be with? You two are perfect for one another.”
“The fox has been making partnership offers since we came here. Maybe I’ll go down and see him.”
The cheetah laughed. “The fox? What would you two possibly do together? He spends all his time in a burrow. You’re in the air!”
Abby had let herself sink below the water just enough for her eyes and ears to be above it. By now she had ventured a bowshot from the tree branch.
“Might be a good change,” said the heron. “Sometimes I am weary of carrying her around. Why couldn’t I have been like the bear and claimed my own domain?”
“We need her rain. Without the two of you, none of this would exist.”
“That’s the problem. Everyone needs us, but what about us? I love her, I really do, but what if I want my own domain? What if I want to create something?”
“You already do. You make storms out of her rain.”
“I still need her rain. I’m talking about a place of my own.”
Abby looked upwards. Rain did not fall from clouds here, but from the shark. She couldn’t see the shark through the thick rain far overhead, but she could discern where the center of the downpour was. If this was a lover’s quarrel, and if these two were anything like her parents, then all they should need was a push for them to make peace.
She conjured up another bow and arrow and rose partway out of the water. She set the arrow, aimed at the center of the rainfall high above, and let it fly. It whistled into the rain, struck something with a thunk. The rain faltered, and a shark fell from the sky. She careened down and splashed into the ocean a few dozen paces from the tree. As soon as the shark touched the water, the rain cased.
The heron gasped, took to the air, kicking up an enormous gust of wind that made whitecaps in the floodwater, and soared down from the branch to where the shark had fallen. She flapped harder, blowing the water away from the fallen bird, making waves that washed over Abby. She sank below the waves and tried to hold herself still.
The heron’s beak was moving, but she couldn’t hear what she was saying. The shark’s mouth was moving as well, and the heron was now holding the shark in her wings. The shark returned the embrace. The cheetah was still in the tree, looking on, tail twitching. Abby let go of her breath, closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up.
She heard a grumble behind her, opened her eyes and spun around. She was face to face with a crocodile three times her size. Abby thrashed, swam backwards, forgetting she didn’t need to swim here. The crocodile wiggled her tail and pursued her, opening her mouth. Abby closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up—wake up—wake up now!
“What…who are y…” The Animal’s growling words faded, and the gentle breeze through the window replaced it. Moments later, she heard raindrops.
She bolted awake and ran to the window, forgetting to cover herself. Rain was coming from the south. She smiled. She pounded the windowsill and laughed as more drops pelted her face.
“Abby?” said her brother from his sleeping mat. “Abby, what’s…?”
Abby couldn’t stop smacking the frame and laughing. Her brother rose from the floor and joined her at the window. She grabbed him and jumped up and down. Her laugh was infectious, and he started jumping and laughing as well. They hugged as the rain came down harder. When it became too hard, she pulled the shutters, turned her back to the wall and slid down to the floor, laughing. The rain still pelted the metal roof, and it sounded like life itself had returned.
A shirt hit her in the face. She pulled it off and watched her brother. “It’s dark, and the lights are out, Omar. Nobody will see me.” A dress hit her, and she just held it in her lap. Omar was putting on his slacks. “Where are you going?”
“To get the equipment ready. We have boilers to clean, rainwater to distill, valves to test. Months of dry weather, anything can go wrong.”
“In a downpour?”
“Have to start no
w. You should prepare some things, too. Can’t celebrate until the harvest is over.”
“I know.”
He was putting on his shoes. Abby leaned against the wall, enjoying the sound of the rain hitting the shutters and the roof. She watched her brother and smiled.
“How do you think they’ll explain this?”
“What do you mean, Abby?”
“They never figured out what happened to the plague. Now this… The rain came back. They still don’t know why it didn’t come north.”
“They’ll figure out someday.”
“That’s it. That’s all they ever say. Science explains everything that happens in the world. But don’t you ever wonder? We can cure disease, but where did it come from in the first place? We can predict the weather, but never control it. We know what chemical reactions are, but not why they react that way.”
“They don’t have all the answers. But we’re always learning them.”
“Do you ever wonder what science is? Who created these rules in the first place? What if they’re not predictable laws, but someone’s whims? Maybe we’ve been going about it wrong all these years.”
“We must be doing something right,” he said as he stood and walked to the door. “I’m waking father. You should wake mother, tell her what’s happening and to prepare.”
“I will. Have fun out there.”
The rain was still coming down in sheets. Omar walked out and into their parents’ bedroom. Abby leaned her head against the wall and smiled. She then promised to take her medicine and never venture into Canvas again.
* * * *
Abby awoke beneath a tree in the plains. She rose to her feet and immediately started running, looking in all directions. The feeling was stronger this time—that she was an intruder, vulnerable, helpless, and one wrong step away from angering someone. She was hoping it wouldn’t be as bad as last time, but it was worse every time she returned. Nothing would have made her come back except a problem big enough to tear the town apart, and just a few weeks after the rains returned, it happened.
Neighbor was turning against neighbor. Her own mother and father were arguing from the minute they woke up to the moment they went to sleep. Abby even argued with Omar a few times, and it wasn’t like them not to get along. He was sleeping in the farmhands’ houses now, far away from her. She didn’t like the strife that had appeared between them, but they were not the only ones.
The radio had been buzzing with reports of the same kinds of things happening all over the world. Strife, bickering and hatred. Psychologists were at a loss to explain it, but the last time it had been recorded, over a century ago, towns had turned against one another, the sixteen nations had started to ignore old treaties and fight over resources again, industry turned to making weapons of war.
Abby had a theory. She had resisted the prickle of curiosity until it had grown into a dire need to know for sure. Now she was back in Canvas, and she would not leave until she found the wolf pack.
The book did not say what the wolves did, and Abby had never been sure what their role was, but if she was right, the source of the world’s problem was within her power to fix. She created loose clothing for herself as she ran along the windless grassland. She passed by trees, looking everywhere, hoping to find them quickly so she could leave before the feeling of danger consumed her. The wolves could be anywhere, but they were most often in the forest, and she was headed in that direction.
She stepped out of the grassland and entered the tiger’s domain. Here she slowed down and tried to look between the trees as she ducked through them. It was always so clean here. She wondered if real forests looked like this, as she had only ever seen drawings of them in books and periodicals.
It seemed quieter here than usual. She didn’t remember this place being so quiet before. There should be animals running about, but so far she hadn’t seen a single one. In all her previous visits, she could barely walk fifty paces before coming across some Great Animal. It only added to her feeling of dread.
Finally a sound came through the branches, and she veered towards it. Snarling, yelping, howling, and snapping teeth. She had never heard these things in Canvas before, and a chill ran up her neck. A few dozen more strides between the trees, and she saw the wolves.
Two of them were at one another’s throat. Three more were circling each other, snarling. Two more were gnawing on another’s legs. There was no blood, but there was pain. The forest was full of it—all of Canvas was full of it. The feeling billowed over Abby like steam from a train.
Abby hid behind a trunk and watched the pack turn on one another. Opponents changed every few seconds—the attacked became the attackers, landed one bite or kick or swipe on another wolf, then that wolf would turn around and strike back.
Abby crouched low, still holding the trunk. The bow and arrow wouldn’t work this time; she needed something to quell a fight, but she didn’t know what they were fighting over.
She closed her eyes and concentrated. Sometimes in dream worlds, knowledge came to her because she willed it to come, and she hoped to do the same thing again. Through the growls and snarling, she began to hear purpose.
…there had been disagreement over who should tend to the newly created animals they made for the forest…
…one of the wolves claimed ownership of them…
…but they had always treated their creations as joint ownership before…
…it caused a schism in the pack. Everyone now claimed ownership of the various things they created, and now they were fighting over ownership.
Abby opened her eyes. The pack was fighting harder than ever. Now she realized the two closest to her had both claimed the coyote as their own. Three more claimed each had created the maned wolf, and Abby sensed they had created it together many years ago—no one wolf had created anything, and that was the point: they couldn’t create anything on their own, but together they made wonderful things.
She wasn’t sure how to solve this. She panted harder, watching the wolves fight, sensing the repercussions of their strife seeping into her world every second. She was wasting time, but nothing was coming to her this time.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Abby spun around and was face deep in a chest of white fur. The tiger! Abby stumbled backwards around the tree and towards the pack of fighting wolves. She heard wings flapping behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to see the heron had landed on the ground behind her. Her eyes darted to the side. The crocodile was on dry land, crawling into the space she had just backed away from. She passed a couple of fighting wolves, and they forgot their dispute at the sight of her. The tiger was walking in her footsteps, haunches raised, stalking her. Everyone towered over her.
The cheetah was somewhere, watching her. The fox was also here. The snake was behind her, coiled around a few tree trunks. Other Animals were here. Dozens more—most she had only fleeting memories of. Everyone had been watching the pack of wolves fight, just as helpless and bewildered as she was.
Abby couldn’t breathe. She closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up.
“Who are you?” said the tiger.
“Nobody created her,” said one of the wolves.
“You don’t belong here,” the heron said.
She felt a few paws touching her, some furred, some scaly, some feathery. She pushed them away and willed herself harder and harder. Feathers were touching her cheek as her clothes began to fade and the voices became the cold night. She opened her eyes. She was on her sleeping mat, under the blankets, wrapped up tight to escape the strife that had consumed the world. She was sweating and panting.
A shadow moved in front of her. Abby gasped and pulled the blanket up over her nose. Feathers were backlight by moonlight, and a long beak turned into view as well. The heron was here, the giant bird took up all of Omar’s side of the room. She spread her wings and looked about. Abby shivered as sweat dripped from her eyebrows. The heron turned from the window and aimed her
body at Abby.
“What happened?” said the bird. “Where am I?”
Abby shivered harder and covered her face.
“Where have you brought me?! I have never seen you before! What do you create?! What is your domain?!”
Abby tried not to shiver, but she realized hiding under a blanket was childish, and she had to reply or she risked displeasing this creature and dooming all of mankind to windless skies, or never-ending tornados and hurricanes.
“I’m sorry.”
Everything was still for a few beats.
“Sorry for what?” said the heron.
“My name is Abigail Hibi. I’ve been coming to Canvas for a while. I was the one who shot the jackal. I shot the shark from the sky. I had to I’m sorry!”
“Shot? That was you?”
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, please, I had to stop the plague and make the rains move again! People were dying! I didn’t know what else to do!”
“The rains? You mean when the shark and I were fighting?”
The heron was listening to her, and Abby felt a little better now. She pulled the covers from her head and faced the silhouette of the heron from her pile of clothes.
“Yes. The rain was stalled over the plains. None of it was reaching us, and it was drowning the people in the south. I had to help.”
“What are you talking about? Nobody was harmed by that. All the animals left the flooded areas. Those in the dry regions moved south to find the water.”
Abby stopped shivering. She pulled the blankets down the rest of the way and sat up against the wall. The heron was huge in this tiny room. Her eyes were used to the glow of moonlight, and now she could make out the Animal’s face.
“I don’t understand it myself,” Abby said, “but now I know it’s true. You control the wind. The shark makes it rain, and you’re the reason it goes anywhere. Everything you do there affects us here. You, the Great Animals, are the reason we have physical laws here.”
