The Healer

by Kevin Hensley

  “I wouldn’t bring that up,” the other raven hissed.

  ✽✽✽

  “I’m intrigued,” Pincher said, scratching his head with a hind foot, “but I don’t understand the point.”

  “Entertainment!” Boxer exclaimed. “Call it an exhibition match. Think of the crowd it would draw. You’ve already got sheep and even a few pigs buying tickets to see this Mauler get a piece of every dog who wants to try. This is a great opportunity.”

  “Couldn’t Shiver do it?” Pincher mused. “If we’ve got to put a ram in the ring, I’d prefer one who’s actually popular among dogs.”

  Boxer grinned. “Dogs are a captive audience. They’ll be there regardless. But what crowd do we consistently fail to bring in?”

  “Birds.”

  “There you go. What bird won’t come out here to see their great sheep champion from the War, the Trampler, throw down with this year’s main draw?”

  Boxer saw the gleam in his superior officer’s eyes. He realized he’d won, but it pained him to know his old friend Pincher had given in to love of pig money.

  “Alright,” said Pincher. “We’ll open with an exhibition match. Trampler versus the Mauler. You already invited the old owl?”

  “I mailed off Caper’s ticket yesterday,” Boxer assured him. “I’ll give him a call. He’ll definitely spread this news around the bird camp. Expect another surge in ticket sales. Hope we’ve got the seats.”

  “They’re birds,” Pincher sneered. “They can sit in the damn rafters for all I care.” Both dogs laughed.

  “I knew you’d see reason,” Boxer said with another goofy smile. “I’ll call the old ram back and let him know the fight’s on.”

  Boxer was so busy with the rest of his preparations, the afternoon was gone before he knew it. As he had predicted, a fresh wave of ticket sales had rolled in, so he was sure Pincher had his paws full as well.

  Boxer saw for himself that evening when he entered the arena through the staff door and found a crowd bigger than any HoundBlood event had ever drawn. There must have been thousands. There were more sheep than he’d ever seen in one place. Birds lined the walls and catwalks. A few pigs sat in a private box above. Two smaller boxes housed Caper and Pincher.

  Boxer glanced at the arena. The fighting ring was a concrete circle with a twenty-foot diameter. A six-foot-tall metal post with a ring had been drilled into the center and cemented into place the day before. A shatterproof plastic wall reinforced with chain-link fence lined the outer edge of the arena, protecting the first few rows of spectators from spurts of blood and dislodged teeth.

  “Good evening,” Pincher’s voice boomed over the speaker system above. The buzz of the crowd faded somewhat. “I want to welcome you all to HoundBlood Two Hundred Forty-Two. And a special welcome to our unexpected guests. I am very happy to see Professor Caper and the birds here to share this piece of our culture and history with us.”

  Boxer took his cue and ducked back through the staff door. He made his way down the service halls and found the holding cell he was looking for. He took a ring of keys from a hook on the wall.

  The Mauler leaned against the back wall in his typical squatting position, grinding his knuckles against the floor. His ears and lips drew back when he laid eyes on Boxer.

  “Hey, hey,” the dog said in a hushed tone “I know you’re afraid. I’m coming in, OK?” He unlocked the door and entered the cell. He took a long look at the chain running from Mauler’s neck to an iron ring in the floor.

  Mauler growled and shrank away. The long fur of his shoulders stood on end. His orange eyes focused on the open doorway behind Boxer. The dog moved between him and the exit, trying to maintain a composed and authoritative presence.

  “Don’t be afraid. Look at me. Hey. At me.”

  After an uncomfortably long pause, Mauler’s eyes settled on Boxer.

  “I knew it. You do understand me.” Boxer took another step. “You know who I am. You remember yesterday? I didn’t let them hurt you, did I?”

  The beast cast his eyes to the floor.

  “That’s right. I didn’t. And I won’t let them hurt you now. But I need you to come with me. We’re getting you out of here. But I need you to cooperate.” Boxer took a small key off the ring and unfastened the chain from the floor. He hid the key under his collar.

  The creature allowed Boxer to take hold of the chain. He followed quietly when Boxer led him out of the cell, but his anxiety was still palpable. Boxer took him to a door directly outside the fighting ring.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered before opening the door.

  The second the beast laid eyes on the crowd and heard the noise, he balked. He threw his weight against the chain and suddenly Boxer was struggling to drag him through the doorway.

  Pincher was still giving his spiel. “So, let’s hear it for the esteemed war veteran, one of the last fighting sheep left in the world, the Grey Old-Timer, the Hell-Horn, the Trampler!” he roared. The crowd roared with him.

  At the opposite end of the fighting ring, the old ram himself stood quiet and still. He did not acknowledge the crowd or the words of the announcer.

  “And now, approaching the ring,” Pincher said, “is our exhibition fighter, the…” He trailed off as a wandering spotlight fell on Boxer, announcing the difficulty he was having.

  A group of four burly hounds jumped over the first row of seats to come to Boxer’s aid. Grabbing the chain in their teeth, they dragged Mauler howling and kicking through the doorway.

  A red dog with a black STAFF vest darted from the stands to the arena and pulled aside a section of the retaining wall. The four assisting dogs bodily hauled Mauler into the ring while Boxer ran ahead and locked the loose end of the chain to the metal post in the center. When Boxer and his helpers exited the arena, the crewman slammed the retaining wall shut.

  “Our exhibition fighter, the Mauler!” Pincher thundered over the crowd’s uproar. “The strongest creature we’ve ever seen, pitted against one of the most capable fighters in history! All for your entertainment! As a reminder, all bets are locked until the fight is called. Trampler, are you—”

  He got no chance to finish. Mauler lunged to vent his fury on the only available target—the old ram in the ring with him. The beast leapt as best he could and threw all of his weight into a two-fisted hammer blow.

  Old-Timer casually sidestepped the attack and Mauler’s hands connected painfully with the concrete floor.

  The crowd voiced their surprise and approval. Old-Timer took a few slow steps back as Mauler shook off the pain. The beast’s feet left the floor in another wild lunge, which Old-Timer made no effort to dodge.

  The chain snapped taut, jerking Mauler by the neck in midair and bringing him down on his back. Yowling and hissing, the creature rolled over and made several enraged but impotent attempts to claw Old-Timer, who stood just out of his reach.

  From the crowd’s vantage point, it appeared that Old-Timer was just standing there doing nothing. But from his spot just outside the retaining wall, Boxer could see that the old ram was whispering something to the frothing monster.

  Old-Timer turned his back on Mauler and raised his head. “Pincher, this is pointless,” he yelled out. “Either unchain this creature or withdraw it from this tournament.”

  “Not happening,” came the reply. “If you’re going to be a bore, just pin it so I can declare you the winner. There are a lot of people who want a shot at it.”

  The old ram shook his head. “I’ll put it out of its misery then.”

  “Trampler!”

  Old-Timer ignored Pincher’s threatening tone, thrust out his horns, and powered his legs in a deadly charge. Boxer’s claws gripped the concrete floor, his heart pounding.

  Mauler jumped out of the way just in time. Old-Timer had run too hard to stop that suddenly though, and he blew past Mauler and collided with the metal post. It bent and squealed with the impact. The hastily poured glob of cement at its base shattered into powde
r.

  The crowd screamed. Old-Timer staggered to his feet, shaking his head to clear it from the dizzying impact, and spun around.

  Mauler roared and lunged for him again. Old-Timer dashed to the edge of the ring to get out of his range. Mauler followed, hitting the end of the chain again—and tearing the damaged post loose from the arena floor.

  “It’s broken free! After it!” Pincher howled from the box.

  There was a wave of movement as some began to lurch for the exits and others came forward to try to apprehend the beast.

  Mauler caught hold of Old-Timer and tried to pin him down. Boxer pulled the retaining wall open and ran into the ring to break them up, but Old-Timer had it handled.

  With a twist of his powerful body, the ram broke Mauler’s grip and threw the hairy beast off of him. Mauler tumbled over and hit the outer wall. The creature noticed the loose chain and the twisted metal pole lying on the floor. He forgot all about Old-Timer and climbed out of the arena.

  “Get it! Don’t let it escape!” Pincher was bellowing, though even with the speakers he was barely audible over the clamor of the crowd.

  Boxer got to Old-Timer and pulled him to his feet.

  “I’m fine,” Old-Timer said. “Don’t let them hurt him.”

  “Alright,” Boxer growled. “You better get out of here.”

  The ram vanished into the scrambling crowd. Boxer located Mauler, who was making his way unimpeded for the nearest exit door. The chain and the broken post lashed around behind him like a massive flail. No one wanted to get close.

  “Stay out of his way!” Boxer called as he took off in pursuit. “I’ll get him!”

  Shouldering through the double door, Mauler was accosted by the two red-robed Doberman guards. He leapt clear over them and they had to dive away from the whipping chain and pole. Now outside, Mauler bounded on all fours for the edge of the clearing. Boxer was seconds behind him.

  It was already getting dark and it was difficult to see through the thick of the trees, but Mauler made so much noise that Boxer had no trouble tailing him. When he was sure they were alone, he called out.

  “Mauler!” he barked. “Slow down. It’s me.”

  Ahead, the crashing footsteps slowed and stopped. Boxer found Mauler standing in a thick patch of undergrowth nearly as tall as they were.

  Producing the key from under his collar, Boxer approached and unfastened the manacle around Mauler’s neck. The chain dropped to the grass.

  A sound in the brush made them both raise their ears. For a few seconds, they stood absolutely still. Boxer took a long breath through his nose and was relieved by the scent he picked up.

  “I’ve got him,” he called out. “We’re over here.”

  Mauler drew back and bared his teeth when Old-Timer stepped into the clearing. Boxer hastily moved between them.

  “Hey. This old man is my friend. He helped me set you free. Do you understand that?”

  Mauler’s eyes stayed on the ram, but his posture relaxed.

  Old-Timer looked back the way he had come. “We can’t stay here.”

  “You’re free to go as you please,” Boxer said, “but I know a place you can hide. Just until things calm down. I know you don’t want to be a prisoner anymore, but I think you’ll be safe there. Will you come with me?”

  Mauler flexed his undoubtedly aching body. For a second Boxer thought he was about to make a run for it. But he put his head down.

  “Let’s go,” said Boxer.

  Chapter 32

  No one spoke for a long minute after Boxer finished his contribution to the tale. Snapper expectantly looked back and forth between the others in the room, as if any second one of them would pick up the narrative, tell him some piece of information he had missed, give him an ending where his father had not died. But he knew the way the rest of this tale went. He had seen it with his own eyes.

  Boxer shifted his weight. “We saw the clones coming out of the Megatropolis after we brought Mauler here. We split up. Old-Timer ran ahead to get you. That was the last I ever saw him alive. Maybe I should have gone with him. Instead, I called Caper. We got there as soon as we could. Too late.”

  “All this time,” Snapper managed to say, “despite everything he said about my safety, my dad was fighting. He knew the pigs would retaliate soon, but he kept going to the quarry. And he saved these two from the corrupt dogs and birds, knowing it could cost him everything. Even me. He did it anyway.”

  “That’s right,” Caper affirmed. “His courage is an example to us all. If there were more like him… well, we would not have found ourselves in this situation to begin with.”

  “We will make it right,” Ponder said to Snapper. “If everything is as Professor Caper and First Officer Boxer have said, Mauler and I may have been sent for some great purpose.”

  “I believe it,” said Boxer, setting his teeth, “and so did Old-Timer. He believed it with every ounce of himself.”

  “Old-Timer believed,” Mauler agreed.

  “We will make sure your father’s sacrifice was not in vain,” Ponder said. “I will keep teaching Mauler. We will learn as much as we can about this world. We will find the reason for our being.”

  Snapper nodded. “Can I help you learn? Caper, let’s go get them some books, and—”

  “Once we’ve ensured everyone’s safety,” Caper interjected. “We should be leaving now.”

  Ponder gave a gentle laugh. “Yes, you will be missed up there. First Officer Boxer, Professor Caper, always a pleasure. Thank you again for the newspaper. And Snapper, an absolute joy to meet you.”

  “You too. Goodbye, Mauler.”

  “Bye.”

  Chapter 33

  Mauler peered through the tiny window until the three visitors were out of sight. Ponder watched the ripple of disappointment travel through the fur on his back. Internally, she smiled.

  “Well, that was new and different,” she offered. “What do you think? Does it improve your mood?”

  His ears sank. He crossed the little room and stood next to her. His eyes traveled her face and along the wall, his mouth working silently. “Trust,” he mumbled.

  “Trust the boy? Oh, I am certain we can. Professor Caper and First Officer Boxer know what they are doing. I hope knowing of our existence helps that young man to get some closure about Old-Timer’s passing.”

  Mauler nodded. Ponder knew he gleaned some understanding from her words, but she was never sure how much. But there was only one way to fix that.

  “Mauler, it is time to read.”

  “Read.” The creature reached for the newspaper Boxer had left for them. He took a seat on the floor by the desk and brought the paper a few inches from his face.

  “Would you like to sit next to me?” Ponder said. She did not know why this impulse came to her. It embarrassed her, but Mauler did not seem to mind. Without a word, he crossed the room and sat down beside her in the corner.

  This room gets cold, she told herself, and cold takes my mind back to the mountain and the sharp wind. The warmth keeps me in the present.

  “The Ch…” Mauler began. “Chugg.”

  “Right.”

  “The Chugg Report. Chugg F… Far mah… cue…”

  “Pharmaceuticals? The big word from yesterday?”

  “Yes. Chugg Pharmaceuticals to start… clin-ick-al trills… of… Vess… Veska… Vecks?”

  “What? Let me see.”

  Mauler leaned sideways and brought the front page into Ponder’s field of vision. She scanned it for a few seconds.

  “‘Chugg Pharmaceuticals to Start Clinical Trials of Vexylam,’” she read aloud from the headline. “Vexylam? Interesting. Keep reading, Mauler. I want to know what this means.”

  The beast resumed his point-blank reading position. Ponder listened intently, parsing sentences out of his hesitant syllables. The article he read gave her no comfort, but his arm resting against her shoulder did.

  Chapter 34

  Snapper’s heart was
still pounding as he stood in the courtyard watching the sun slide out of sight on the far side of Fleece City. This was nearly overwhelming.

  Maybe, he thought, things are about to change around here after all.

  “Hey.”

  Snapper turned. Approaching him along the grey brick path, violet eyes alight in the amber evening, was… It occurred to him that she had never provided her name.

  “I don’t think I introduced myself,” the young ewe said, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m Dreamer.”

  He grinned. “Snapper.”

  “Yes, I remember from class.”

  Snapper glanced around. Other students walked the paths or lounged in the grass with books and papers. Through the open gate, he could see Swifter and his friends tossing a ball around. It appeared they had this little corner of the courtyard to themselves.

  “You wanted to talk to me about something?” he ventured, taking a seat in the soft grass.

  She followed his lead. “Yes, I do. I thought all day about how to approach it. Still giving me trouble.” She kept those oddly colored eyes fixated right on him.

  Snapper began to grow uneasy, somehow sensing that this girl was finding answers before ever having to ask questions. He understood there would be no point in lying to her about anything.

  “Well, I have nothing to hide,” he said. To put her—or himself—at ease, he broke eye contact and looked at the grass in front of him. “Something came up and I ended up missing dinner. Do you mind?”

  “Go right ahead,” she said. He bit off a mouthful of grass. He looked elsewhere as he chewed, pretending he wasn’t waiting for her to say something.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to your father,” she said.

  Snapper nearly choked. He sputtered, swallowed quickly, and stood up. “Excuse me?”

  Dreamer looked up at him steadily. “You’re the son of the ram that came to visit us at the quarry. Old-Timer.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Because you’re way off the mark. You do have things to hide. Lots of them.” She stood. “But I’m not here to pry. I just wanted to apologize for my role in your tragedy. I’ll let you be. It was nice to meet you… Snapper.”