The Healer

by Kevin Hensley

  “And for what?” the aggressive sheep continued at the top of his lungs. “The crime of speaking his mind?” He heaved forward, nearly breaking free of the dogs’ grip.

  Durdge did not flinch. “Missing your brother, eh? Fine. You’re under arrest. Take him to the Megatropolis.”

  The sheep roared and lunged again. But the two dogs brought their heads down, teeth flashing, and swiftly broke both of the sheep’s forelegs. He screamed as he toppled forward, the fight taken from him at last. The dogs dragged his unresisting body toward the east gate of Fleece City. Beyond, on the other side of the plains, the pigs’ own city waited.

  The bloodied pig pinched his nose shut with one trotter as he pushed himself to his feet. With a nod to Durdge, he ducked back into the bank to clean himself up.

  Everyone, including Old-Timer and Snapper, stayed right where they were. No one wanted to be the first to start moving again.

  Durdge waited until the two dogs and their prisoner were out of sight before addressing the crowd.

  “I’m glad everyone got a chance to witness that object lesson, terrible as it may seem. That man went insane and threw his life away just to harm an innocent pig. You see what happens when you get overly attached to your family—especially troublemakers? See what happens when you allow yourself to get caught up in groundless rumors of sheep sacrifices?”

  Durdge’s gaze settled right on Old-Timer and Snapper. With his hoof still grasping his son’s coat, Old-Timer felt the boy’s posture stiffen.

  “It makes people do desperate and foolish things that could otherwise be avoided,” Durdge said, still staring at them.

  Old-Timer bit his tongue and prayed his son was doing the same.

  But the moment passed, and Durdge’s focus shifted to others in the crowd. “Just think on it, people, but don’t let it all bother you too much. Let’s have a good and productive day.”

  Durdge turned around to head back into the town hall, gesturing for his warthog guards to follow him. Suitably dismissed, the crowd of sheep began to move and talk amongst themselves again.

  “Did you see that crazy person?”

  “The nerve of him, taking matters into his own hands.”

  “Well, justice will be served.”

  “When will people stop spreading those ridiculous rumors?”

  Old-Timer finally breathed. He released his grip on Snapper’s wool. The boy whirled around to face him.

  “I could have helped that man,” Snapper growled.

  “Keep your voice down. If you had done that, you’d have been dragged right off with him.” Old-Timer leaned in close. “Now is not the time to be drawing attention to yourself. You’re so close, Son. The school year is almost over. Someday you’ll be able to use your gift to benefit the world. But if you use it to spit in the face of the pigs, everything we have done so far will have been for nothing.”

  Snapper’s only reply was to glare.

  “I need you to understand this, my son. You don’t have to like it. But you do have to trust me.”

  After a few seconds, the boy sighed. “Have a good day, Dad.”

  “You too, Son. Now, hurry up. You’re late for class.”

  Chapter 4

  “I told you, Professor,” the frantic little canary insisted. “It looks like a bird… but not real!”

  Caper scratched his cheek as he stared intently at the drenched figure in front of him. The macaw was made of wood, painted white on the chest and red on the rest of its body. The sudden, flat end of its torso was not painted; it was bare wood and ringed like the stump of a tree. The red and blue wings hung so limply because they were mere cloth. The hinged wooden jaw and black glass eyes were completely lifeless.

  The canary landed on the thing’s chest and peered into its face. “It’s… it’s just some kind of puppet.”

  The owl let his eyes drift from the wooden bird’s face to that of the canary. “What was your name again, ma’am?”

  “Mrs. Flaxer.”

  Caper took a deep breath, his eyebrows lowering. “What happened here, Mrs. Flaxer? You said this thing just appeared in the water while you were praying here?”

  The little yellow bird was suddenly afraid. “Yes. I realize how crazy that sounds. I was alone here when it happened. What should we do?”

  The owl raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not sure why you came to me.”

  “I know you consider yourself a champion of skepticism, Professor. There is a rational explanation for everything. I’ve attended some of your lectures.” Mrs. Flaxer cleared her throat. “But, honestly, would you burst into Reverend Specter’s office if you had an emergency?”

  Caper couldn’t help but grin. “That’s a fair point. No, I probably wouldn’t.” He took another look at the wooden statue that lay before him. “However, if you think this is some sort of miracle and you want an interpretation, Specter would be a lot more helpful. Inexplicable phenomena are not my area of expertise.”

  The owl closed his eyes to think and thus missed the shadow that fell across Mrs. Flaxer and the wooden puppet.

  “I’m sorry, but perhaps we’d better disturb Reverend Specter after all,” Caper said. “Here, I’ll go with you.”

  “Professor…” the canary trilled, “he’s already arrived.”

  Caper opened his eyes and saw the priest’s skeletal, featherless face, pale yellow eyes and black meat hook of a beak. The condor was not looking at Caper, however, but at the puppet. The head lowered on its bony neck as Reverend Specter’s expression changed from curiosity to suspicion.

  “I heard the commotion,” the priest hissed, “and so did a lot of other people who don’t care for noise in our sacred shrine.” His head didn’t turn, but his eyes flicked to Caper’s face. “I know a… free-thinker such as yourself scoffs at such courtesies, but all the same, Caper, I would appreciate it if you would explain just what is going on in here.”

  Caper cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure yet, myself. This woman was telling me that this… object just appeared in the natural spring. I was holding off judgment until you had the opportunity to question her yourself.”

  Over Specter’s shoulder, Caper could see that about twenty curious birds had followed him to the shrine and were landing on the stone island around them to observe the spectacle. Immediately they began to whisper and point at Caper, the canary, and the puppet.

  Among the number of birds, however, were three other canaries who flew directly to the puppet and landed on it. They circled protectively around the first canary.

  Specter walked over to the puppet, his grey tail dragging behind him like a long robe. He inspected the figure and the scared witness standing on it. His head was bigger than her entire body.

  “What did you see here, Miss…?”

  “Mrs. Flaxer,” the canary stated. “It is just as the Professor said. This wooden creature floated to the surface of the pool, just there.”

  Specter sighed. “Mrs. Flaxer, that pool is nine inches deep.” He glanced up at the shrine’s open ceiling. “Are you sure no one, say, dropped it from above?”

  “Absolutely sure.”

  He spoke louder to make sure every bird in the room could hear. “So you were completely alone in the shrine when this happened? Mrs. Flaxer, if this is some sort of prank, you would do well to confess sooner rather than later.”

  One of the canaries with a stouter build than Mrs. Flaxer stepped between her and Specter. “Reverend, my wife has been a devoted servant of Optera for decades,” he said sharply. “I don’t think there is any need for accusation.”

  Mrs. Flaxer looked down in shame and fear as her husband locked eyes with Specter. Thus, she was the only one to see the sudden violet glow appearing deep within the black eyes of the puppet.

  A voice, seemingly from nowhere, startled every bird in the room into panicked flight. Even Specter and Caper withdrew their heads into the downy manes at the base of their necks.

  “If someone would have the decency to ju
st ask me directly,” the feminine voice said quietly and plainly, “I would be more than happy to clear this matter up for you.”

  Chapter 5

  Caper kept his head ducked to protect his sensitive ears from the panicked chittering of the birds as they flew circles in the chamber and out through the ceiling. Eventually, as fear gave way to curiosity, they began to calm. The noise turned from shrieks to coherent words.

  “That voice!”

  “It came from the wooden puppet!”

  “Ridiculous. Its mouth didn’t move!”

  “I swear I saw it!”

  Apparently Specter believed the chatter. He seized the puppet violently by the neck with his foot and yanked it up to his eye level, shaking it so hard its head snapped back and forth.

  “Who’s inside there?” he demanded. “This childish trick has gone far enough! Caper, I swear, if this is one of your students trying to make me look foolish…” He trailed off as he slammed the puppet to the ground and held it pinned under his foot.

  No response.

  “Well?” Specter shouted. “Answer me!”

  Caper tried and failed to keep a smile off his face. “It appears your new friend chooses not to speak unless spoken to with respect.”

  Specter ignored him. “I’ll put an end to this. Whoever’s inside, I’m not in a mood to be ridiculed.” Putting his weight on the foot pressing the puppet down, Specter grabbed the puppet’s head with his other foot and pulled. It popped off easily. He turned the head over in his talons. Other than the small hollow the knob of the neck sat in, the head looked completely solid. So did the body. Shaking with anger, he raised the head and prepared to dash it against the stone floor.

  “That will not do you any good. Kindly put me back together. Please.”

  Specter froze. Slowly, he turned to look at the macaw head clenched in his toes. His limbs shook as he gently placed the head back on the neck, snapping it into place. He politely set the puppet so it stood upright on the flat base of its waist. Behind him, Caper, the Flaxer family, and the other birds could no longer contain their amusement. They began to chuckle at the priest’s blundering.

  The condor bent his neck so he was face to face with the wooden macaw. “What are you?”

  The purple glow briefly overtook the eyes again and the voice came forth, although the beak hung open inanimately. “Regrettably,” the puppet said, “I am not sure. And to answer your next question, I do not know how I ended up in the shrine of your goddess. I merely… am. But, I know about you. I know the birds are the natural educators of this land.”

  All around the chamber, the birds found themselves drawn in and intrigued by the soft, articulate voice. This puppet spoke just like one of them. They found their fear vanishing.

  “You are blessed with wisdom and clarity of thought that outreaches that of hounds, pigs, and sheep. And I know of your hidden feud, the one you are all too ashamed to reveal to the other peoples of the world.” The puppet’s words silenced every avian in the room. They all stared in horror and wonder as she continued. “The ideological schism that offends your goddess will soon destroy bird society if compromise is not found in the near future.”

  For a second, Caper thought he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He glanced over, but the only thing there was the immobile stone face of Optera.

  Dismissing the illusion, the owl peered at the wooden macaw. “Who told you our secrets?”

  The painted head never moved, but all the same, Caper felt as if the black glass eyes had settled on him.

  “I do not know,” said the puppet with an audible sigh. “I only remember a female voice, not unlike mine… and violet eyes in the darkness before I awoke in this chamber.”

  A stir in the crowd. Caper and Specter overheard a fat dove talking to a surrounding group of smaller birds. “If that thing is really from Optera,” the dove was saying, “maybe it owes it to us to tell us what it knows. Maybe it can give us some wisdom from the Goddess so we can solve our problem.”

  The condor seized his opportunity, spreading his dark grey wings and throwing his head back to command the attention of everyone present. “Absolutely!” he shouted. “This wooden idol can only be a miracle from our Goddess, given over to us to prove that we who glorify her are in the right! It will dispense its divine knowledge, that we may put an end to the heresy spouted by Caper and others like him. If this miracle continues to be evasive and test our patience… well, I can play that game as well. We have a right to know, and this puppet will speak!”

  Taking advantage of Specter’s distraction, Caper stepped closer to the puppet to examine her critically.

  Roused by the passionate orator, the birds’ chests swelled with pride and determination. Two ravens in the crowd began to chant the final word of Specter’s address. It wasn’t long before the entire assembly had picked it up. “Speak!” they cried to the puppet. “Speak! Speak! Speak!”

  Caper turned the puppet’s head, working the lower beak on its loose brass hinge.

  The puppet gave a soft chuckle. “It appears Optera did not see fit to bless me with independent movement.”

  “Just as well,” Specter cut in, placing a powerful foot on the wooden shoulders. “You’ll be kept in my private quarters, where you will share your knowledge of the Goddess’s presence for the good of us all.”

  Caper’s feathers stood on end. “Specter, you cannot just keep this creature as a prisoner.” He reached out, but the priest dragged the macaw puppet closer.

  The old condor gave a predatory smile. “Creature? You said it yourself, Professor: this is nothing more than an object. And as the ordained minister of the Church of the Goddess, I claim this idol as Church property. Look around you, Caper. These people are on my side.”

  Defeated for now, Caper sank under the glares of the assembled birds around him. The two ravens who had led the chant stepped forward from the crowd to help Specter bear the puppet out of the shrine. The other birds followed, rising into the air and trailing Specter as he flew out into the main waterfall chamber. Caper came last, stopping in the shrine’s entrance and watching as the condor carried the wooden macaw through his own privacy curtain.

  Caper caught one last glimpse of the puppet’s face. He had no way of knowing if the macaw was looking at him, but all the same he looked hard at her. I’ll think of something, he tried to say with his eyes before the puppet vanished behind the curtain. He hoped she had seen him, hoped she would know he was determined not to leave her to her fate.

  Chapter 6

  Snapper kept his head down as he made his way through the front door of This Little Piggy Primary School. He was not the only one who had arrived late due to the altercation in front of Chugg National Bank & Trust, so he blended in during his walk down the main hall. All around him were the sullen faces of his classmates—faces he knew but had never truly befriended due to his father’s insistence on secrecy.

  Above his head, a banner hung near the ceiling. The boldly outlined face of a pink cartoon pig grinned down from the banner, showing a crescent of white teeth and round eyes of flat lime green. Sloppily painted black text below the pig’s face read: “Charlie Chugg Welcomes You to LEARN!” The rest of the banner was decorated in the same ugly clash of pink and green—the school colors.

  Snapper glanced left and right at the posters lining the walls leading to the classrooms. Almost all of them depicted Charlie Chugg delivering some pithy saying or navigating some tricky social situation. This animated pig was the mascot of the school and of the Chugg Corporation in general. The expressive face decorated the school’s front entrance, every television screen visible in the storefronts outside, and even the very top of Chugg National Bank & Trust. Snapper had long ago grown tired of seeing this pink face.

  He entered his classroom and took his seat by the window, resting his forelegs on the desk as he settled his hindquarters into the creaky plastic chair. The bank blocked any sunlight from coming in. More posters stuck to the wall
s around the window advised young sheep to study hard so they could work at places like the bank. Another poster featuring an image of Charlie Chugg winking and putting a finger to his lips reminded everyone in the room: “Smart sheep never speak unless spoken to!”

  Snapper thought again of the assault on the front steps of the bank and the words of the heavyset sheep. The man’s brother had been taken, never to return. That man would now suffer the same fate himself. And he had mentioned the rumors of blood sacrifices.

  “People have been taken away for stepping out of line, sure,” Snapper could hear his father’s austere voice echo in his mind. “But it’s extremely rare. The rest is just overblown paranoia, especially the nonsense about sacrifices to hungry gods.”

  Snapper had no more time to mull over it. A high-pitched squawk jarred him from his bleary morning thoughts and brought his eyes forward.

  “Everyone look at the board!” the teacher, a green parrot, screeched from her perch at the front of the room. The chalkboard behind her read: “FINAL EXAM TOMORROW—covering C-A War & Reconstruction Period.”

  “I hope everyone filled out the sheet of review questions I handed out yesterday,” the bird continued. “Everyone pair off and discuss your answers with your partner.”

  Snapper stayed where he was and made no move to find someone. With an even number of students in the class, someone was bound to get stuck with him, a prospect he was sure most of them dreaded.

  Today’s lucky winner was a large, athletic young man with the starkest white fleece around, name of Swifter. The tall sheep’s face went sour when he discovered everyone else except for Snapper had already found a partner. He dragged a desk over to where Snapper sat, opened his bag, and pulled out the review paper and a pencil.

  “Did you even do the homework?” Swifter grumbled.

  “Of course not. What was on there that we haven’t already studied a hundred times?” Snapper leaned back in his chair, holding up his pencil in his hoof to tap the side of his head.