by P. C. Cast
The Tribe murmured, nodded with her unfolding tale as they watched and listened, rapt with attention.
“The first winter was upon them, and many, many died. But the small group who lived, that first Tribe who survived, discovered … learned … delighted in the life opening to them in a way that had been lost to the people who had worshipped technology.” Ralina turned and with a graceful flip of her wrist, she tossed a handful of herbs into the brazier nearest to her, and the flames leaped blue-green again. “The strongest and bravest and wisest of the first Tribe took to the trees with more than their mothers and daughter, fathers and sons. The best and brightest of the first Tribe took to the trees with their canines.”
Ralina dropped to a graceful curtsy before her thick-chested Shepherd, continuing the tale as if only for him. Bear’s tail thumped against the wooden platform and he gazed at his Companion with absolute adoration.
Nik sat up straighter, forgetting his irritation at not hearing a new tale as the storyteller came to his favorite part of the telling.
“Many of the people complained
Many of the people demanded a change.
If you choose to keep your dogs
You go from here! We have no food to spare!
The first Tribe refused
They had lost much—but this, this they could not bear to lose.
So, they went from the others and traveled deeper into the forest
Farther from the ruins of the chaos and death of the past.
And climb they did, the first Tribe and their canines—up and up.”
Still kneeling before her Companion, Ralina began moving her hands in delicate, grace-filled motions.
“Winter came with sleet and cold and darkness.
The first Tribe was naked against winter relentless.
They wept with despair, they cried it is hopeless!”
Ralina’s hands changed movement, turning from snow to the softest, sweetest of caresses as she smoothed Bear’s muzzle and followed the swirls of his thick, shining coat.
“It was the Tribe’s canine that found their salvation.
Among the boughs of six sentinel pines, grown together to form a heart,
a Shepherd pup discovered a fern that opened its fronds to him as if he was the sun.
The pup nested within its fronds, warm and dry and safe.
The Tribe made nest with the pup, covered by thick, loving fronds divine.
And as the winter passed the first Tribe understood what that Shepherd had discovered.”
Ralina stood and faced the Tribe once more, her entire body alight with joy.
“They discovered safety in the verdant boughs.
They discovered beauty in the verdant boughs.
They discovered power in the verdant boughs.
They discovered the Mother Plant in their loving, verdant boughs!”
The Tribe, unable to contain themselves, cheered. “They discovered the Mother Plant!”
Ralina lifted her arms, extending gracefully posed hands upward. The trees above her swayed with a whisper of night wind, allowing the lambent light of the newly risen full moon to flicker across her body so that to Nik the Storyteller took on the appearance of a beautiful young pine tree stretching up to capture a caress of moonlight.
“As Spring awoke the first Tribe and dark days turned light and bright they understood the depth of the miracle the Sun had provided for them and their canines.” Ralina traced a graceful dance to the Mother Trees and the Mother Plants that rested within their boughs, heavy with huge fronds silvered by the delicate dusting of hairs that covered every inch of the thick, supple leafs. She crooned to a Mother Plant as she caressed a fat frond, much as she had so recently caressed her Companion.
“You had become one with the Tribe.
Your spores entered us.
Forever changing us.
Forever bonding us.
As Companions, as beloved of the Sun, as the Tribe of the Trees!”
The Tribe was shouting, repeating the familiar line when O’Bryan nudged Nik and whispered, “Hey, what’s up with the male pup?”
Nik’s gaze immediately found the young canine, who had woken and was padding directly toward him! Nik felt the small hairs at the nape of his neck lift and a shiver of anticipation skittered over his skin as the pup reached him, sat right in front of him, and stared up expectantly.
7
“Bloody beetle balls! Is he choosing you?” O’Bryan whispered.
Nik didn’t want to move, didn’t want to look away from the pup’s intelligent amber eyes, didn’t want to answer his cousin in case he broke the spell of whatever might be happening.
“Hey, pup! I’m back here.” The Guardian materialized at Nik’s shoulder, resting a hand heavily on the tree and swaying slightly. “Have to go down again, does he?”
At the Guardian’s appearance, the pup turned his attention to the older man and wagged his tail expectantly, sending a little yippy bark at his caretaker.
Nik sucked in a breath, realizing then he’d been holding himself so still and concentrating so hard that he’d forgotten to breathe. His gaze, no longer held by the young canine, automatically went across the platform to the place of honor where his father sat. Sol was watching him so intently that he didn’t have time to school his expression before his son saw it and registered every emotion Sol was feeling—anticipation, sadness, disappointment, and finally, ultimately, pity.
Nik’s chest burned with embarrassment, and he looked hastily away lest he see that the entire Tribe watched him with his father’s eyes.
“Well, pup, I knew I shouldn’t have let you drink all of that water so late, but it is a celebration!” The Guardian swayed and belched, and Nik got a whiff of something a lot stronger than spring beer.
Trying to cover just how rattled he was, Nik nodded and said, “Yeah, he just showed up here, obviously looking for you.”
The Guardian sighed and blinked blearily down at the pup. “Don’t suppose you could hold it until Ralina finishes her tale?”
“I’ll take him down,” Nik heard himself saying.
“Are you sure, Nik? The sun is well set,” O’Bryan said.
“Cuz, we’re just going below for a piss a few paces off the platform. We aren’t going for a picnic,” Nik said.
“That’s right! It’s no problem. No problem at all,” the Guardian slurred. “The pup’s smart—brightest and biggest of all the litter. He never goes outside the torchlight at night.”
“Want me to go with you?” O’Bryan offered.
Nik gave him a quick once-over. His cousin was well into his second pitcher of beer. “No need,” he said quickly. “I’ll take him down and be back before Ralina gets to the part about swaddling the babies in the Mother Plant.”
The older man slapped Nik’s shoulder companionably. “Good man, Nik! You mind if I keep your perch warm while you’re gone? Better view from here than from behind you.” He didn’t wait for Nik to answer, but half sat, half fell into his seat as soon as Nik stood.
“No problem,” Nik said, and then handed the Guardian his almost untouched mug of beer. “Might as well keep this warm for me, too.” When the Guardian gave him a confused look, Nik smiled and added, “That means you can drink it.”
“Well, thank you Nik! Always did say you’re a good man, Companion or not. Oh, you should probably take this with you. Better safe than sorry, you know.” He handed Nik a crossbow with an arrow notched in it.
“One arrow?” O’Bryan said.
The Guardian laughed. “One’s all you need if you’re good enough, and Nik’s damn sure good enough. Pup, go with him!” the Guardian commanded, pointing at Nik.
Nik held the crossbow comfortably, well accustomed to the fit and feel of the weapon, and patted his leg, encouraging the young canine to follow him. Then he slipped as quickly and quietly as possible through the tightly packed people, the pup heeling obediently while Nik ignored the curious looks that were cast his way.
It didn’t take long to get to the winding walkways that spread like spokes of a giant wheel from the Mother Trees out to the mazelike sprawl that encompassed the Tribe of the Trees, and once Nik was free of the prying eyes of the people, he allowed himself to relax and to—if only for just a little while—soak in every moment of his time alone with the pup.
“You are good-looking, no doubt about that,” he told the pup, who padded at his side and glanced up at the sound of his voice, tongue lolling in the canine version of a smile. Nik returned the smile. “And clever, too.” If only you’d choose me, he added—but silently. He wouldn’t say aloud what his soul shouted. It would do no good to tell the pup—he would choose his Companion as his instinct dictated, and that choice couldn’t be manipulated or coerced—but what if someone heard him pleading, begging, praying for that which might never happen? Nik shook his head. “Not going to say it—never going to say it. It’s bad enough they all say it when I’m not around.”
The pup yipped at him and moved restlessly around his feet. “Oh, sorry boy,” Nik said, realizing that he’d reached the lift and had just been standing there, talking to himself. “My head must be full of moss. No wonder you haven’t chosen me.” Nik sighed sadly and patted the pup on his sable-colored head before turning to the door of the nest hanging closest to the lift and using the stock of the crossbow to rap twice on it. “Need to take down a pup,” he called.
The door opened quickly and a young Terrier bounded out, enthusiastically greeting the pup, followed by a lean young man who was wiping stew from his chin. His gaze shot from the pup to Nik, and his face broke into a brilliant smile.
“Nik! Has the big male chosen—”
“To drink too much water too late. Yes. A lot like his Guardian has chosen to drink too much whiskey too early,” Nik interrupted, laughing softly as if he hadn’t given a thought to anything except taking a young canine down to relieve himself. “I don’t have much of a taste for drinking tonight, so I offered to go in his place. Do you mind, Davis?” Nik gestured to the door to the lift.
“Not at all!” Davis hurried from his nest to the lever that released the massive pulley system that served to lift and lower the Tribe and their canine Companions to and from the forest floor more than fifty feet below. “Any time you’re ready.” Then Davis called to the Terrier, who was trying to follow the pup into the square wooden lift cage. “Not you, Cameron. You’ve known a full winter and more. You’re old enough to wait until sunrise.”
“I don’t mind if Cammy comes with us,” Nik said, bending to ruffle the Terrier’s big blond-furred ears. “He can help me keep an eye on the pup.”
“All right, but be quick. It’s well past sunset, and I don’t have to tell you what that means,” Davis said, handing him a lit torch.
Nik nodded, his expression turning somber as he latched the door of the cage shut. “That’s why I have this.” He lifted the Guardian’s crossbow.
“I hope you don’t need it, but I’m glad it’s you holding it,” Davis said, adding grimly, “Hey, don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but some of us Hunters have been finding some pretty strange signs out there lately.”
Nik was taken aback. No, he hadn’t heard of anything weirder than the usual mix of deadly insects, poisonous plants, and mutant humanoids. “Strange signs?”
Davis looked uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t say anything. Thaddeus ordered that I keep my mouth shut about it.”
“Hey, no worries. I won’t say anything. What strange signs are you talking about?” Nik felt a crawling up his spine.
“I found a stag. He was half skinned.”
“Someone wasted something so precious? That is strange.”
“It’s worse than strange. The stag was still alive when I found him.”
“What?”
“The only injury he had was that he had been partially fileted alive.”
“Skin Stealers! Why were you hunting so close to the city?”
“That’s just it, Nik. We weren’t close to the city. And we didn’t see any other sign of Skin Stealers. It was terrible. Truly awful.” Davis paused, shuddering. “I put him down. Quickly. It was just Thaddeus and me on a training Hunt. The stag practically ran into me, appearing in the middle of the trail all of a sudden. I took the shot with my crossbow, and then followed up by slitting his throat. The poor creature was mad with pain. It struggled. Its blood was everywhere … everywhere.” Davis shook his head, looking pale. “When I hit the stag’s artery Thaddeus was close by, and the spraying blood spattered his face, actually getting into his eyes and mouth. He said there was something wrong with the blood—that the rancid taste of it gagged him.”
“You didn’t bring the meat back to the Tribe did you?”
“Absolutely not. You should have seen the creature, Nik. There was something very wrong with it. We built a pyre and burned its body.”
“Sounds like you did the smart thing. It probably was sick and wandered too close to Port City and the Skin Stealers attacked it. Bloody beetle balls those mutants disgust me! Though I didn’t think they messed with animals. I thought they only skinned—and ate—people.” Nik grimaced, his stomach roiling.
Davis shook his head. “They’re completely insane. They do skin people alive and eat them, which means nothing they do makes any sense.” He paused and then added. “Hey, thanks for letting me get that out—and thanks for not saying anything about it.”
“No problem.” The pup yipped imploringly and jumped against Nik’s leg. “Okay, sorry, I see you.” From inside the lift Nik looked through the wooden slats at Davis. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll be quick and careful. The three of us will piss and then I’ll wave the torch for you.”
“And I’ll bring the three of you right up. Piss fast.”
Davis released the lever and there was a series of clicks and the clattering of the great chain salvaged decades ago from the wreck of what, centuries before, had been a thriving city of two rivers—but was now a nightmare of death and danger. The platform lowered slowly and smoothly while Nik peered down into the forest blackness, trying to see if anything waited or slithered below them.
Here the moon had a difficult time reaching its delicate silver fingertips to the forest floor, and the best that even the fullest of moons could do was to touch the green beneath the canopy only slightly, not truly illuminating anything, but rather adding an eerie, underwater quality to the night.
The lift came to rest on a well-cleared circle of ground, covered with thick moss. Nik reached through the cage slats to place the torch in the upright log that had been slotted as a holder. Cautiously, he studied the surrounding forest, already feeling the prickling just beneath his skin that always came when he left the sanctuary of the city in the trees.
The torch cast a small globe of yellow around them, which lit the pine needles and moss that carpeted the forest floor. No underbrush was allowed to grow near the lift, though Nik noticed a thick log that lay recklessly close to their circle of light.
“Must have come down in the windstorm last night. Strange that no one cleared it today,” Nik said, hesitating to open the cage door as he studied the broken bough.
The pup whined plaintively and jumped against Nik’s leg again as Cameron huffed and snapped playfully at his heels. “Okay, okay!” Nik laughed. “I get it. You two have to go.” He unlatched the cage door so that the two canines could spill out. “Stay close!” he voiced the familiar command. The Terrier instantly complied, circling back to Nik and lifting his leg on the stump that held the torch, almost getting Nik’s feet wet. “Well, maybe not that close.” Chuckling, Nik went a few strides away from the lift and untied his pants, not far from the pup, who cocked his head to watch him, and then squatted to relieve himself, reminding Nik of just how young he was. Maybe it isn’t too late. Maybe this one will choose me.
“All right then, let’s go home,” Nik said, gesturing at the cage with the crossbow and feeling doubly relieved as he headed to re
claim the torch and the Terrier that waited beside it. “Inside!” he called the command that all of the Tribe’s canines learned to obey before they were fully weaned from their mothers. Cameron jumped into the cage, and then stared behind Nik, whining softly.
Nik turned, and a sickness began to fill his stomach.
The pup was exactly where he had been when he’d relieved himself, only he wasn’t watching Nik anymore. He was staring out into the blackness, ears pricked, and tail up.
“Pup! Inside!” Nik commanded.
The young canine turned his head slowly and met his gaze. Nik was suddenly filled with a flood of emotions—happiness, confidence, and, lastly, regret. And then, before Nik could move, the pup sprinted into the black maw that was the forest at night.
“No, pup! Stop!” Holding the torch in one hand and the crossbow in the other, Nik rushed after the pup, trying to keep him within the circle of light.
And he did. Nik did keep the pup in sight, until he reached the fallen log, which shivered, morphing from a harmless broken branch into a dozen deadly beetles, each almost the size of the Terrier, whose panicked barking was filling the circle of light. The insects turned their dripping scarlet-colored mandibles at Nik, and with a terrible clicking sound, descended on him.
“Pup, come!” Nik shouted, forced to stop his pursuit of the canine by the blood beetles. “Inside!” he called again, but the pup didn’t pause. He sped forward. Without another look at Nik, the forest swallowed him. “No!” Nik screamed in despair.
Two of the giant beetles broke from the group descending on Nik and skittered after the young canine. Nik automatically ran to intercept them, but the rest of the beetles had closed around him, cutting him off from the pup and from the safety that waited with the lift.
Nik raised the crossbow and aimed, trying to find a shot that would take out more than one of the bugs, but they were coming at him—fast and with deadly intent. He only had seconds to make his decision—if they reached him, if they broke his skin with their disease-filled jaws, chances were very good that Nik would die.
