Half-Breed

by Anna L. Walls

  The sun turned a full circle before Canis woke again and he still felt muzzy-headed and dull. He was slouching over the breakfast Capella had set before all of them.

  “Canis,” she said to get his attention. “Who is Rayet?”

  Canis sat back and said, “Oh, well Rayet is…” The memory was gone. It had been right there, on the tip of his tongue. “I…I do not know. I… It was there…but I cannot remember. Why?”

  “Nothing,” said Capella. “It was just something you said when you came home. You said this Rayet had stolen a bunch of Angela’s pictures and hidden them in a jar. You said he didn’t want to share them. You said something else, but I didn’t understand it, something about looks.”

  Canis searched his memory. It had been there, but he couldn’t find it. “I am sorry. I cannot remember. The name is familiar, but I do not know why. Until you spoke it, I had never heard it before.”

  After breakfast, Capella went to her mother’s house. She didn’t return to her home until it was time for the noon meal. She was so quiet and moody that Auriga questioned her.

  Canis was stunned by the story she told. A wealth of pictures had been hidden away for who knows how long and apparently, Caph had found out about it at some point but contrived to keep the secret and the pictures hidden away for herself. “Why would someone want to do such a thing?” she asked.

  Then almost as if someone was smiling indulgently behind him, Canis got an idea. After lunch, he too left the house and called on Caph.

  Gacrux let him in to find Caph sitting on the floor by the big jar sobbing quietly into her knees. The pictures were gone.

  “Come with me,” said Canis and he pulled her to her feet. Inviting her husbands to come too, Canis led her to Debhe’s house.

  When Caph, Debhe, and their husbands were all sitting around the table with a hot cup of tea in their hands, he said, “You all know by now what I have said about the Mother giving me the gift of healing. She also gave me Angela’s memories. Perhaps she wanted those pictures found, I do not know, but there is one thing I am certain of. Angela knew who took those pictures, and she knew what he did with them. She understood and she didn’t really mind. She knew they would be protected and treasured. Yes, the whole clan should share them, but I think she wouldn’t mind at all if the person who treasured them so much, continued to care for them. They need to be organized in such a way that they go along with the story. Who best to do that than the person who is most familiar with them?” He rested a hand on Caph’s shoulder. “It is a worthy task for a family who has seen them through the ages to this day.”

  As he spoke, he watched Caph’s expression go from bleak desolation to fragile hopefulness. She was an elder of the clan. She could shoulder this responsibility. She would drag her honor back out of the mud. She straightened her shoulders and looked hopefully at the others around the table.

  When Debhe drew her toward the hanging that covered the tunnel’s mouth, Canis raised a hand to the men and quietly slipped away.

  Back at Capella’s house, he went back to sleep. He was still feeling the affects of creating seven healers in one very long night.

  The Tiger

  Almost a month had passed before Canis was again left home alone with Capella while her husbands both went hunting. He filled his days with whatever chores were too heavy or time consuming for Capella to handle then fell into his nest gratefully tired.

  The second such night, he was wakened abruptly when Capella slid into his nest with him. “What are you doing here?” he asked in alarm. He would have jumped out of the nest, but she had him cornered.

  “I was lonely,” she whispered. Her voice was sultry and fascinating. Canis found his body responding to her touch definitely without his volition. When her hand traveled down his chest to dive deep between his legs, his body arched as if struck by lightning.

  With a growl, he forced her away from him to arms reach. “What are you doing here?” he asked again. His voice sounded husky in his ears, which felt like they were on fire.

  In the darkness, he could feel her smiling. He could feel other things too. “I’m lonely. I want you.”

  “No,” said his mouth. His body was saying something quite different.

  “Yes,” she purred.

  Unable to stand it any more and afraid he wouldn’t be able to withstand her advances any longer, Canis dumped her unceremoniously on the floor and grabbed his coat. Dressed in nothing else, he headed for the stairs. Before he went out the door, he pulled his boots on thankful that they reached well above his knees; thankful they were by the door.

  He leaned against the outside of the building clutching his coat around him until his heart calmed again. He had almost resigned himself to coming back in out of the cold when Capella came out to find him.

  “What’s this?” she asked. “Don’t you want me?”

  Appalled, Canis looked at her and spoke in a tone he was surprised to hear from himself not to mention the words he uttered. “You are married to two fine men who give you all the attention you could possibly want. If you must act like a bitch in heat all the time, then I suggest you keep one of them at home all the time. Stay out of my nest.”

  She recoiled as if she had been slapped, then her eyes narrowed and she snapped back. “What are you saving yourself for, some female from the plains? Do you really think they will have you?” She stormed back into the house and slammed the door behind her.

  He didn’t figure he would be able to sleep if he went back into the house and he was reluctant to chance facing Capella again, so he curled up where he was and tried to calm his confused mind. Rrusharr, Ggrrawrr, and Rranggrr soon joined him. With their welcome company and body heat, sleep came…eventually.

  He was startled awake in the earliest dawn by the sound of several anguished wails coming from where the loose Wulfen sheltered. He had heard it once before, though the echoes were different here. He was on his feet and running toward the sound before he remembered the occurrence during the night. Only after he was already in motion did he remember that he was dressed in only his coat and boots. That didn’t stop him though. The coat reached past his knees and the boots well above; no one else would know unless he opened his coat.

  He was half way to the river when he found the rest of the Wulfen and he could hear the waking village emerging with equal panic and following him.

  When Canis reached the pack, a grizzled gray Wulfi turned to him. The image of a great striped cat chilled Canis’s blood. He was pelting back to the village before the others had cleared the last building. “We need every arrow. A striped cat is attacking the hunters. They need help,” he yelled at them and ran on, not pausing to answer questions or even to see if anyone was going to follow him.

  Canis charged into the house. The constant stream of images he was now getting from the disastrous hunt was spurring him to the greatest speed he could muster as he buckled his sword belt on over his coat.

  “We are coming, drop the sleds. Let him have the meat. We are coming,” muttered Canis. He took no notice of Capella who huddled fearfully in the corner. He scooped up his bow and arrows, then his snowshoes, and outside he grabbed his sled with its bedroll. The carefully sorted tools and cooking equipment, he left behind in a heap.

  First and fastest, he was back at the pack that still howled of the disaster. “Come,” he said and turned his running feet to find the hunt.

  The picture playing in Canis’s head told of the run. The men were dropping the sleds laden with meat one at a time. Each drop bought them some time, but the cat was chasing them anyway, most likely because they were running, but stopping would be suicide.

  The Wulfen were doing their best to keep the cat from getting too close to their hunters, but the striped cat was getting frustrated with them. Four men ran with injured or dead companions across their shoulders. Canis didn’t know who and he wasn’t going to distract anyone by asking now.

  His lungs were burning by the time he saw the fi
rst signs of the chase. He dropped his sled and took up a position behind a snow-covered rock. “Keep them running,” he whispered and watched as the tired Wulfen peal away from the fight one by one as the replacements showed up to take their place. The hunters ran past Canis without seeing him.

  When the striped cat came into view, Canis stood up and took aim. Harried by Wulfen and intent on a moving target, the cat took no notice of the relatively immobile figure standing so far outside of his focus. Canis had chosen his position for that very reason and taking full advantage of it, he launched arrow after arrow as fast as he could draw the string. He aimed at every exposed spot with an occasional “Move” muttered to one Wulfi or another in order to clear a shot. He wasn’t directly in line with the charge, but his first arrow ensured that the tiger’s focus came away from the hunters.

  The massive cat wasn’t going to just lie down and die, but Canis was far enough away and not moving. That gave him the opportunity to get off three more shots before the cat spotted his new antagonist. Every arrow flew true; they had to, there was no room for error. The cat fell, coming to rest less than ten feet from where Canis stood.

  The hunters had released the sleds one at a time, whenever the cat got too close for comfort, and it had attacked and ravaged each sled until it was discovered that it wasn’t protesting and therefore was no longer interesting.

  Canis, and the hunters who had followed him from the village, righted and repaired the sleds as they found them. The last sled, which had been the first of the tiger’s catch in this long cat and mouse chase, had been smashed and ravaged beyond recovery. They divided the meat between the four sleds they had brought with them then they headed back to the village. When they passed the carcass of the striped cat, Canis noticed that someone had skinned it and retrieved his arrows. They had left the rest of the carcass; only in the most desperate of times would they take the meat of a carnivore.

  It was well after dark before they made it back to the village and Canis was shivering from the cold. His coat and boots had been enough for him to huddle in the snow among his Wulfen, but after working up a sweat, running, then walking back for well over two hours, pulling a sled or not, he couldn’t seem to keep warm enough.

  At the village, the hunters had recovered some. They and the women came out to welcome them back. The sleds disappeared with the people into their homes where they could all find heat and food.

  Almach helped Canis bring their sleds of meat in then they went downstairs to find Auriga sitting with a splinted leg propped up on a stool. “Broke it,” he said curtly. His anger at himself for tripping could be heard clearly in his voice.

  “Sargas has already been by and seen to it,” said Capella. “It will heal cleanly, thanks to you and the gift you brought. We are all very grateful.”

  Canis pulled up a seat close to the hearth and accepted a cup of hot tea. He still wore his coat; he was freezing. “How are the others?”

  “They too will recover,” said Almach. “Caeli said he saw you shooting. He talked of nothing else all the way back here. He said you just kept shooting no matter how close it got to you.”

  Canis just shrugged, he was beginning to warm up so he pulled his coat open, leaving it belted.

  Both Almach and Auriga looked at him questioningly when they saw he had no shirt on under his coat.

  Canis saw their look and looked to see what they saw, then shrugged again. “I was in a hurry.”

  Capella abruptly turned away to stir the stew.

  Canis went to his space in the corner and shed his coat and boots for a pair of pants and a shirt – he was warm enough now – then he went back and finished the meal set before him. He hadn’t eaten all day and yet he had little appetite now. He poured himself more tea and pushed his half-finished bowl away.

  He was the last to go to his nest. He had switched from tea to water. He couldn’t seem to get enough to drink and he felt like he was sweating it out as fast as he was drinking it. He knew it was cold outside, but he couldn’t see a reason for keeping the house this warm. It wasn’t his house. He didn’t try to change anything; he just went to his corner and pulled the curtains closed against the heat.

  Sleep washed over him like the winter sunset, quickly and completely. He found himself dreaming of the great striped cat. He shot arrow after arrow into it until he ran out of arrows and he was forced to draw his sword. After he hit it with his sword, the tiger’s claws all grew into swords that were just as long as his own, and when his attack made it past them all, the tiger shattered into ten tigers each wielding a sword twice as long as his. There was no more chance of an attack; all he could do was try to defend himself. Every time he blocked a blow, the sword he blocked grew depressingly longer.

  Doomed to be defeated, Canis sought to retreat to a safe corner where they couldn’t get at him all at once, but his arm was growing leaden and his chest was burning. He thrashed out to clear the crowding cats away so he could breathe, but they kept coming. He began to choke and cough. He couldn’t breathe any more. He pulled at the neck of his shirt and found an iron collar there. The chain attached to the collar was dragging at him, forcing him back against a brand the size of a stove. He cried out and coughed harder. The stripes of the cat turned into the bars of a cage and giant bear paws pushed the bars closer until he couldn’t move, then a hand reached past the bears, past the striped cats, past the chains and past the bars. “Gem?” Her hand had always been there when he was most terrified.

  The hand touched his forehead. It was cool and comforting. The tigers let go of him. The bears became soft furs. The iron turned into a cool damp rag. He struggled to see the face in front of him and found Sargas’s concerned face. Behind him were Capella and Almach. Others were there too, but they drew away before he could put names to their faces.

  “He’ll be okay now, I think. The fever’s broken,” said Sargas.

  “What happened?” asked Canis. His throat was raw and it hurt to talk. His chest ached too; in fact, he hurt everywhere. He pulled an arm in front of his eyes and saw a good-sized bruise around his wrist. Puzzled, he looked back at Sargas for an answer to his question.

  “You’ve had a very high fever. You have been delirious for three days. We were forced to hold you down several times lest you hurt yourself or someone else.”

  “The first we knew that you were ill, you knocked me out,” said Almach. “Capella ran for help. For your information, it took six men to hold you down and it was a near thing even then.”

  “You have been pinning me down for three days?”

  “Most of it,” said Almach. “We had to, so Sargas could work on you.”

  “I don’t understand fevers,” said Sargas. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you some relief sooner.”

  Canis waved a hand limply; he was exhausted. He was asleep before he could find the words to tell the man that he would get better every time he tried.

  Unable to struggle into his pants, Canis pulled his coat on again and wavered into the main living chamber the next time he woke. He found the family gathered around the table over a collection of empty dishes.

  Almach jumped up and helped him to a chair. He felt as weak as an infant, but he made it. He looked around at the serious faces as a bowl of hot stew and a large mug of tea was set before him.

  “What?” he asked, his voice rasped at the effort.

  “We are trying to get that information ourselves,” said Almach. “She won’t tell us.”

  Canis struggled through a mouthful. It tasted as good as ever, Capella was a very good cook, but it hurt to swallow. He watched Capella until he had managed the food in his mouth. “If it is about my getting sick, that is no one’s fault but my own. I was an idiot to run out in only my coat and boots.”

  “You know that’s not all of it,” blurted Capella. She looked at her husbands then slumped in resignation. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I…I uh…I wanted to make love to him. If I had stayed out of his furs, he would nev
er have spent the night outside in only his boots and coat.”

  “He spent the night outside?” said Auriga in astonishment.

  “It was not the night,” said Canis speaking with difficulty. “I was warm enough. It was the run.”

  None of them were listening to him any more. Both Almach and Auriga were staring at Capella who was sitting forlornly in her chair with silent tears running down her face.

  After long minutes, Almach got to his feet and picked up his and Capella’s coats. Wordlessly she accepted it and accompanied her husband out of the house.

  Canis was silent for a couple more laborious bites, but then he had to ask, “Where do they go?”

  Auriga still had a dark expression on his face as he glowered at the table, but he answered readily enough. “When we do something that we know is wrong, we go to Angela and confess our wrongs. We stay there until we feel forgiven.”

  “But it was not her fault. I should have never tried to run so hard in this cold.”

  “It’s not what she did or what you did. It’s that she feels guilty for what she did. I find it surprising that she would go to your furs, but if I cannot come to terms with this, I too will visit Angela. Ultimately, all will be well again.” He looked up at Canis. “Besides, if you had not made your ill considered run, I would likely not be here being mad about it.

  Heading East

  Canis spent the rest of the winter going on every hunt until their stores were stuffed, then he was going out to bring in firewood almost every day. Auriga made him a new store of arrows using cured and sharpened bone for the heads. He made even more arrowheads to take with him. Capella made the tiger’s hide into a soft bedroll to go with the one he already had. Crossing the mountains would put him into a long stretch of forever snows.