Half-Breed
by Anna L. Walls
© C8R59-H0TL5-7NAS6
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Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
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Cover by Candace Bowser http://www.candacelbowser.com/
Prologue
The world was coming apart. An asteroid had collided with the moon and both bodies had been shattered by the impact. Unable to continue their experiments, the scientists ordered them destroyed and then fled.
Brian was supposed to destroy them and burn all the records, but he couldn’t bring himself to kill them. They were good kids, and so fascinating. They were innocent and far more intelligent than anyone cared to know.
A meteor crashed into the ground somewhere close. Half the complex had already been smashed by another such impact. A beam supporting the ceiling came crashing down, knocking Brian to the ground, pinning him to the floor. The pain robbed him of breath. He couldn’t leave them in those cells. They deserved better. He threw the keys toward them, hoping they made it close enough for them to reach.
Another impact shook the place and more of the ceiling came crashing down. He didn’t hear the jangling of the keys. He didn’t feel the hand brush his eyes closed.
She sat on a rock, holding her knees close to her chest, feeling cold in the night air. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her daddy wasn’t coming home. In her heart, she knew this was true. The rain of burning destruction told her she would never see him again. Behind her was the crater that used to be her house. Her mom and her baby brother had been in there. She had been playing in the barn. It was the best playhouse in the world. It had been shoved all sideways when the meteor hit the house and a flying piece of wood had cut her cheek.
Movement on the road caught her attention. It was almost completely dark, and thousands of fires glittered everywhere she looked. Something white caught her eye down on what was left of the road, the road that should have brought her father home. Those white spots almost glowed in the shadows. They just kept moving; they didn’t seem to notice the fire falling from the sky. Once she spotted the movement, she could pick out quite a few of them. But something else was there too; she couldn’t make out what from this distance. They were all moving up the road toward her.
They gathered around her, the noses of the…well, she’d seen pictures of wolves, but these were way too big, though they seemed nice enough. Person or giant wolf, they mingled together like they were all one group, all the same family. None of the people looked older than twelve or so. Some of the older ones leaned heavily on others, some carried infants and toddlers, and others carried puppies.
The boy with the white hair – she was sure he was the one she had spotted first – he knelt directly in front of her. He had a brown blotch of hair at his right temple and pale blue eyes just like his ‘wolf’ had. His ‘wolf’ was probably the prettiest one in the bunch – all silver and bluish.
The boy pushed a lock of copper-red hair out of her cut. The blood had dried in the cool breeze and it pulled a bit. “She is his,” he said, in a calm rumble of a voice that didn’t fit his age.
“Leave her. She is one of them. She will slow us down,” said someone behind him in a similar deep voice.
“She is Brian’s. He was always kind to us. He set us free. We owe him our lives, our freedom. The least we can do for him is try to protect his young.” With his thumb, he brushed at the smudge between her eyebrows, but it did not come away, and then he brushed her tears away with a dry palm.
There was some grumbling at his words, but no real dissension, so the boy with the white hair picked up the little girl, and they were off again, heading deeper into the mountains. Massive rocks fell all around them, spraying fire everywhere. They ran on. They had no choice.
The girl with the copper-red hair could not run with them, so she was passed among the strongest of them, as were the youngest of their own. Some seemed to be ill, and some were injured, but they struggled on between others. All they could do was keep moving and hope to avoid the falling sky…some didn’t.
The clan never knew the years were counted and they never thought to start. Their concern was preparing for the next hunt, or the next birth. Only by preparing, could they survive the winter that never went away.
Young as she was, Brian’s daughter provided them with the foundation that carried them through.
Canis
Canis curled tightly in his old blanket and listened as his mother entertained another man. He was loud and stomping around. His mother would have red marks on her face again when he left. He could never ask her about them and when he touched them, she merely smiled sadly and held his hand away from them.
His mother had entertained men ever since he could remember, and ever since he could remember, Canis was hidden away whenever someone came to the door. Sometimes, one of her men, or the house owner would find him anyway, then they would travel for a while before his mother found them a new place, and then it would start all over again.
She didn’t bring a man to their tiny room every night. On those free nights, Canis’s mother would bring out some much-abused paper, and with a coal from the fireplace. They would curl up on the warm hearth together and she would help him trace his letters.
Canis had no problem tracing the letters, but when it came to grouping them into words, it was as if he stumbled into a giant dark chasm. His mother was very patient with him, but she couldn’t understand how wide and dark that chasm was. It was as if a vast empty hole was inside his head right where writing words and speaking sentences were supposed to be.
Canis could read though. His mother read to him from their one tattered book over and over again. He had the words of the story memorized, but his mother didn’t suspect, not even when she caught him reading it; she merely assumed he was looking at the pictures. There was no way he could tell her otherwise.
Canis was working on a surprise for her though. Whenever she was away, he struggled to say a single word…Canis…his name. If he could say his name, maybe he wouldn’t have to hide anymore. His mother told him it was the name of a star – that it had something to do with his father and his father’s family, but he didn’t understand and he couldn’t ask.
The first time he succeeded in uttering the whole word in one halting piece, it felt like a rope had been tossed across that vast emptiness in his head. It was like a single strand of spider’s web strung across a canyon so wide the other side could not be seen. That strand was so small and fragile compared to the vastness, but Canis could feel it and he treasured its hold.
When he finally showed his mother his achievement, she cried. “Wonderful, Canis. Wonderful,” she said with tears streaming down her face. She pulled him into a long hug. “I’m so happy you can talk now.”
It wasn’t the response he expected, but then, perhaps something had happened while she was away. It had happened before.
The man his mother was entertaining this time was stomping around, banging on the table, and shouting about his plans. Canis could scarcely hear his mother’s quiet voice as she tried to calm him. The man ranted of riding and cutting, but C
anis didn’t understand it all. He hoped he didn’t cut her hair; he liked her shiny copper braid, it was long and silky. He would stroke it while she read to him. Suddenly the man fell into the closet where Canis hid, breaking the door with his weight.
Startled, Canis snarled a yelp and the man reached for him. Cornered in the closet, he couldn’t dodge away so he was forced to fight back the only way he could. His sharp teeth left four slices in the man’s hand, but the man didn’t pull away from the pain.
His blunt nails scored painful welts across Canis’s chest as he grabbed for him. He cried out when Canis’s teeth drew blood, but the pain only seemed to increase his rage. He pulled Canis out into the light and gave him a shake, roaring, “You hid a beast in your closet, woman? A Changeling, I say; only animals have eyes that glow in the dark. It was an animal that bit me, I say. What is this witchcraft? It’s bad enough you have hair of the devil’s fire. This spawn with an animal’s teeth and glowing eyes is proof of your witchery.” He shoved the woman from his path.
He headed for the door with a snarling bundle of fury in his meaty hand.
Canis’s mother wailed her denials. “No, that’s my baby. Look at him. See, he’s just a child. Give me my baby. You can’t take my baby.”
The man wasn’t listening. By the time he reached the inn’s common room, Canis was struggling in earnest. Every time he came close to finding more flesh with his teeth, the man would give him another violent shake.
Brandishing his prize and shouting “changeling” and “witchery,” and with blood staining his arm, the man whipped the patrons of the inn into a superstitious frenzy. He grabbed Canis’s mother by her hair and threw her out among the crowd, yelling, “Witch” and “Demon child.” In minutes, everyone was shouting, and there was a surge for the door.
From his vantage point at the end of this arm belonging to such a mountain of man-flesh, Canis could see his mother’s red hair over in the middle of the crowd. Someone grabbed her long braid, and he heard her scream.
Hearing the sound, Canis put new effort to freeing himself. He curled around the hand holding his tunic and tore a gash in the arm, winning his freedom this time as blood spurted rather than dripped.
Outside, people on their way to early morning market joined the mob. With sticks, fists, and clods of ice to dodge, Canis couldn’t keep track of his mother who was being pushed away somewhere else.
One man swung a stick; perhaps he intended to throw it, perhaps not, who can say, but the blow knocked Canis into a man near the edge of the crowd. The man hadn’t heard the cry of ‘changeling’, nor did he suspect anything but a pickpocket when Canis careened into him. He snagged hold of the boy’s shoulder and flung him out into the frozen slush of the street. No sooner had he turned him loose then the man who started it all spotted Canis. His shout was incoherent, but his bloody-handed point was unmistakable and Canis became the new target.
Instinctively, Canis tucked and rolled where the man threw him, but to his dismay, he looked up to see massive creatures with very large hooves plunging and kicking directly above him. Before he could roll completely free of the danger, someone else had his hand on him, and others were pushing the mob back.
No matter how hard he tried, Canis couldn’t break this new man’s hold. The man’s powerful fist held his tunic in back this time. The material drawn tight in his fist prevented Canis from turning enough to find skin and draw blood.
For perhaps a whole second, Canis thought he was going to be thrown aside once again, but his hopes were dashed when the man looked him in the eyes. With a wave of his hand and a curt “collar,” Canis found himself wearing a metal ring around his throat. Attached to it was a metal chain. Both items were alien to him; both frightened him more than ever before.
As soon as his chain was hooked to the big-ringed chain running among others who wore the metal around their necks, Canis clawed at the ring and threw himself against the chain with a panicked frenzy. The others on the line gasped in surprise and clutched at their ends of their chains in an effort to protect themselves from his struggles.
Moments later, men descended on him again, and his hands were bound behind his back. Though they could prevent him from clawing at the metal ring around his neck, they couldn’t stop him struggling, despite one man’s hiss of, “I’ll cut your legs off if you don’t settle down.” But Canis didn’t settle down, not until he was exhausted from his struggles, and the man never carried out his threat.
When his panic mellowed, Canis started to think. These people will not be able to hold me forever. There will be an opening sometime. I will wait and watch for an opportunity, then I will escape, I will.
As they traveled, two men paced the length of the line at all times. Every time they came close to Canis, he snarled a warning, but it only won a snicker, and the next time around they would walk a little closer or make an abortive reach for him, anything to win the next snarl.
Sixteen other people shared the chain attached to the back of a large wagon. Another wagon followed behind them. The whole train moved slow enough for those on the line to walk, though it was a brisk pace. It served to keep them warm.
Canis could only follow where the metal led. He watched all those around him; there were more people than he’d ever been around in all his life, and all of them were watching him. Those attached to the chain, walked in silence, having long since accepted the immobility of the metal. He watched the others too – especially them. Two of them paced up and down the line. Two others rode horses and still others drove the wagons. They too watched him; he didn’t like being watched.
The sun was high in the sky and the frost was melting from the tips of the grass when the free men handed out breadsticks and then passed around a flask of water. There was no stopping though. Canis didn’t get anything. With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t feed himself, and when a guard reached to feed him, Canis went for the hand instead.
“I told you, you shouldn’t have teased him,” said his cohort.
Canis did the same when the other man offered water. “See, I can’t even give him any water. It’ll be your fault if he doesn’t make it to camp on his feet.”
“I don’t give a shit. That brat almost took my hand off when I put the collar on him. Let him drag a few miles. Teach him a lesson.”
“You’ll regret it if he gets hurt. Patro don’t like his property damaged.”
Regardless of their words, no more food or water was offered to Canis, though the water flask was kept available to the others most of the afternoon.
The sun was touching the horizon when they finally came to a complete stop. While an old woman who appeared out of nowhere made a fire, a man handed out rolled blankets to those on the chain. Two of the free men took some of the leashes and went off in search of firewood. Those left behind settled down where they were. When the man with the blankets reached Canis’s place in line, he merely tossed a roll at Canis’s feet, giving him no excuse to snarl his warning, though he got one anyway.
When the blankets were all handed out and the one big tent was set up, the man who issued all the orders, the man who had caught him from under the horses’ hooves, pointed at Canis and the two men not on firewood duty. “You two; give it a bath. I’ve been smelling it all day and I can’t stand the reek any longer.”
When one of the men unhooked Canis’s leash, he was thrilled. Here is my chance. He wasn’t sure what their plan was, but his plan was escape. He’d gotten away from one man, he could get away from this one too; he wasn’t as big as the other man had been.
What he didn’t expect was, as soon as they were out of sight of the camp, the man who held his leash laid a crushing grip on his shoulder and ripped away his clothes. His cry of pain only won laughter, this time from both men.
With a snarl, Canis leapt as high as he could and tried to twist free at the same time. His effort almost broke the hold on his shoulder, but the man tightened his grip, and then the other man caught an ankle.
Suspended between the two of them, he still fought, kicking and thrashing and snarling.
Despite his struggles, they managed to dunk Canis in the cold gray water. He kicked and thrashed even harder, but he couldn’t break their grip – not entirely. The one man lost his grip on his shoulder once, but the other man used the opportunity to dunk him in the chill water head first, over and over, until he could only gasp and sputter.
True to their orders, they scrubbed him down, doing so amongst uproarious laughter at Canis’s cries of pain and indignation. They dunked him in the water to get the soap off and then scrubbed and dunked a second time – and then dunked again just for the fun of it. By the time they were done, Canis was so cold he could scarcely breathe.
They led him back to the camp and reattached his leash.
As soon as they left, Canis sank to the ground and wrapped his arms around his knobby knees in an effort to harbor what heat was left in his body. So much for my escape. There will be another opportunity. I will watch for it. He didn’t quite hide his face. He continued to watch the strangers around him with wary, icy eyes.
A girl closest to him on the line reached out and brushed his shoulder. It was a slight, petting motion – an asking, rather than a demanding. The action reminded him of his mother; she did the same – sometimes. Canis flinched at the thought, but didn’t draw away from her touch. He let her come closer as he thought on his mother. It has been all day. Where is she now? The girl began picking at his hair. His mother had never bothered much with his hair, though sometimes she’d cut it out of his eyes. Most of the time she scarcely had time to see that he ate every day.
The big man, the one who captured him, Canis didn’t even know his name yet; he was watching him, so Canis watched him back. He might have been as big as the man who’d taken him from his mother if he was heavier, fatter. He was tall and powerful. His hair was straight and very black and his eyes were like black holes in his head, unreadable. Canis didn’t like the way he was staring at him. With a sudden burst of motion, the man rose from where he was sitting and went to the supply wagon.
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