The Silver Claw

by Erik Williamson

  “There’s . . . stuff I can’t seem to get past.” She grunted in frustration. “Till I can figure out how to get unstuck, I have nothing to give. Not that I don’t want to. . . I don’t think. Well, I don’t know. I just don’t. . .” she trailed off again. “But I miss you.”

  Renn waited, but apparently that was it.

  “So what I feel like you’re saying is you want me to keep sticking up for you. Be the same friend I’ve been. Meanwhile you. . . you may or may not respond. Probably will keep pushing me away. But if—if—you figure out what’s eating you, then maybe—maybe—we can try to get back to where we were?”

  “Oh. That’s sort of what I’m. . .” Emmie couldn’t have looked more struck if Renn had slapped her. “I’m awful. That’s so unfair to you.”

  In the short time it took Emmie to stammer out that much, the slow wheels of Renn’s mind moved with an unprecedented clarity. Truth was there was nobody he enjoyed being with more than Emmie. Nobody he’d prefer to have sitting next to him on this cold rock. No matter what happened between them, Emmie was still the best girl he ever knew. And she looked broken. A shell of her normal sunny self. Renn realized he had a choice: he could gratify the petty urge that said to pile more misery on her. Or... Renn took a slow breath.

  “I’m sorry.” She moved purposelessly, looking lost and wounded. “I should go.”

  “Don’t go. I’ll take it.”

  “Um.” Emmie bit her lip. “Take what?”

  “Your offer.” He stared into her pale wary eyes.

  “I, I didn’t. . . offer?”

  “You told me where you’re at, what you have to give. I’ll take it.” He pulled his eyes away. “You work through whatever it is you need to figure out and I’ll try to be the same friend I’ve been. Accept you whether you’re doing good or bad. Because, well, the awful thing to do to someone is bail on them when they’re beaten up and have nothing to give; when they need a friend most. I’m going to stick with you, Em, and you’ll have to put up with me because, well, cause, I think this is worth it, Emmie. I think you’re worth it.”

  Emmie was too stunned to reply. She wished she could but knew she didn’t have it in her. That old voice, even now, found its way to taint Renn’s kind words. That was so unfair.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she finally managed to whisper. She wanted to show him she was trying. “Renn, you’re the most loyal, forgiving. . .” Emmie’s voice cracked. She covered her face in her hands, could only mumble, “I’m sorry. . .”

  She rolled off the rock and rushed away so he wouldn’t hear her break down crying. Renn stared at her little figure clambering through the woods, allowing her some privacy before following.

  The Renn that got off that rock was scarcely the same one who sat down on it. His mom’s rebuke for lacking the guts, the basic goodness, to make the right choices, was one he wouldn’t forget. This time he knew he’d made the right choice. It wasn’t going to be much fun. Would probably hurt a whole lot more than feel good. His hurt feelings would have to live with that. Renn felt like a whole new person.

  Emmie was too drained to converse when she finally plunked herself down next to Alixa and their dying fire. Alixa prodded her but only received grunted responses.

  Had she found Renn? Yes.

  Had she done as Alixa said? Yeah. Kind of.

  Had it worked? No answer.

  C’mon, Sheep, yes or no? Is he coming back? Yeah. I’m tired.

  Alixa didn’t fight it. Emmie had returned with new streaks of mud blotched on her face. Too much drama and tears for one day, Alixa decided. Renn slunk in a few minutes later, Alixa smirked, as though they were wandering in independently. She didn’t bother to try with him. Alixa had a drama-filled day with Emmie. The day with Renn was one of conflict. He offered the usual apology as he dragged by. Not at all as usual, he carried himself with an air of confidence he rarely had displayed prior. Well, whatever, Alixa shrugged.

  Four nights later, Alixa peered over the remains of their fire at her two companions. They were certainly more pleasant to travel with again. Drama and tension always smoldered beneath the surface, as did their galling awkwardness, but an uneasy truce was a welcome upgrade from their earlier stints as obnoxious flirts and surly distrustful kids. Well, Emmie still cascaded tears here and there. Alixa hated the crying. She hoped she wasn’t about to incite more.

  “Two days, tops, and we’ll need a decision.” Alixa kept her eyes on the embers of the fire. “East to the lake or north to Bandu lands.”

  “Really?” Emmie asked, wide-eyed.

  While she had a pretty good hunch what would be on her amulet, Emmie hadn’t worked out what she wanted. At times she yearned to yank the necklace out of her pack and find that silver claw; let the amulet tell her who she was. Other times, all she could do was wonder at Renn’s unexpectedly gracious promise of friendship. Increasingly, she pondered what Dad would think of her possible princess-ness.

  Would he be proud to see her do something where she could make a difference? That question was a sticker because somehow he was always proud of her. The first fish she caught. Her first time steering the skiff through the wind. When she remained upbeat and outgoing in the face of unceasing rejection. That so many of his fishing buddies had taken to her despite their prejudice, won over by her personality and charm. Whether the accomplishment was big or small, he was always proud.

  “Yes, Sheep.” Alixa pulled Emmie back to the moment. “Really.”

  “Which do you think is closer?” Renn asked.

  “I’ve told you, I don’t know.” Alixa looked over to Emmie, already staring unfocused at the fire again. Oh great. . . Alixa decided she’d absolutely take flirty if given the option. The surly kids were a pain.

  “North, we walk back into our past. . . home.” Emmie twirled her hair tight around one finger. “You think it’s really home?”

  “How many times can I answer that?” Alixa huffed. “We. Don’t. Know.”

  Emmie hugged her pack onto her lap. Renn looked to her, opened his mouth as though to speak, then seemed to think better of it.

  “Never mind. We still have two days,” Alixa said hurriedly. “Let’s call it a night. I’ll grab a couple more logs.”

  Just as hurriedly, Alixa stalked out of camp to flee the awkwardness. She heard Renn rustling to move closer to Emmie. Alixa ground her teeth. Don’t mess with her, Renn. Not ten minutes later, Alixa returned with fresh wood. Renn was wrapped in his cloak, lying against a tree. Emmie huddled at a far tree, sniffling. Alixa cursed under her breath: crying again. She propped two logs onto the fire and sat next to Emmie’s tree.

  “What happened?” she asked reluctantly.

  Emmie abruptly went silent.

  Alixa made up her mind: their destination was all on her.

  Renn woke the next morning sore and miserable. When he lay down, he had been too frustrated to care how he’d feel in the morning. He cared now. At least the fried eggs Alixa had sizzling over the fire were a pleasant surprise. Emmie’s absence, however, was not.

  “Where’s Emmie?”

  “Wow, those eggs smell marvelous! Thank you, Alixa!” Alixa proclaimed with acidic feigned cheeriness. “Oh, you’re welcome, Renn. My pleasure. I try so hard to please you.” Her voice dropped to its everyday nastiness. “Off by herself. Leave her be.” Before Renn could respond, she chucked a stick at him. “I swear, I’m gone ten minutes, and somehow you two fall apart. It’s getting so I can’t even take a leisurely pee break anymore. What’d you do this time?”

  “I don’t know! If I knew, I wouldn’t.” Renn plopped to the ground by the fire. “If you have any idea what her deal is, please tell me. And thank you for the eggs.”

  “I’ve no idea what her problem is. I thought we’d put the drama behind us.”

  “I’m sorry I’m causing you both so much trouble.” Emmie’s hollow voice made them jump. Eyes baggy and hair tangled, she looked awful. She dragged herself past them to her pack. “I
’ll stay out of everyone’s way.”

  “I’m sorry, Emmie,” Renn said. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

  “So everyone is sorry. Grand!” Alixa rose to her feet, shook a finger at Emmie. “You got something to say, Sheep?”

  Emmie’s eyes said there was, but she shook her head and mumbled, “No.”

  “Whenever you’re ready, Sheep, let’s end this. If you can’t talk about it, then stuff it. Got it, everyone? Good!” Alixa thunked back to the ground. “Now, eat up. We make for the lake today.”

  Alixa glanced at each. Renn, as she figured, looked relieved. And the snap decision had shook Emmie from her funk. Good. Emmie was the wild card, but she’d guessed right.

  “Why, Lixa?” Emmie asked.

  “It’s what we all want. Anybody object?”

  Two heads shook slowly.

  “I’m not ready to face whatever’s up north, either,” Alixa growled as she slid them both some eggs. “First leg today, Sheep, you’re with me.” She turned on Renn. “Alone.”

  XLII - The Wandering Prairies

  “I feel like we’re a couple nine-year old’s, caught fighting in school,” Renn whispered to Emmie as they packed. “I got the switch more than a few times as a kid.”

  “I always got my braids yanked. Wheat-head must be the problem, you know.”

  “Emmie, now!” Alixa yelled from up ahead.

  “Shout if you need help?” Renn offered.

  “Help?” A wry grin formed on Emmie’s lips. “How exactly are you going to help against Alixa?”

  “Oh, not to help you. So I can run. No sense in both of us dying.”

  Emmie laughed aloud, and Alixa shot them an angry look. Emmie sighed. “Here goes.”

  Renn gave her hair a light tug. “There. Tell her you’ve already been punished. Walk with me later?”

  “Thanks,” Emmie mouthed quietly, then trudged off to join Alixa.

  “Don’t expect me to grovel for your tale of woe.” Alixa sniffed as they set off down the trail. “If you’re the sort who’s just begging to be pleaded with so you can feel wanted, then I’m not your girl. I’ve offered to listen. I suspect Renn has begged. I won’t ask again. This is on you, kid.”

  The ‘new’ Alixa who’d emerged of late was a decidedly friendlier model, and even bordered on nice at times. Yet she was still all glower and sharp edges. And surly. And crass. And mean. Emmie pictured herself and Renn, so long ago now, lying on the roof of the inn, tossing Alixa-adjectives back and forth, Renn sarcastically concluding, ‘Yes, a lot to like about her.’ Emmie smirked. If the in-your-face Alixa disappeared altogether, it would be a shame.

  “Don’t think you’re off the hook, Sheep.” Alixa scowled at Emmie’s smirk. “You need to buck up. Anyway. My decision to head to the lake. Thoughts?”

  “We put it all on you, didn’t we?” Emmie scuffed her toes along the ground. “We weren’t much help.”

  “No. You really weren’t. But what everyone wanted? Wasn’t hard to figure.”

  “This is what you want? But, Lix, the map. It’s the only reason you agreed to help us—unless I’m wrong,” Emmie invited a mushy response, but of course got none. “Why are you steering us away from it?”

  “I’ve my own concerns.” Alixa pursed her lips. “The towns on that map, the gates and valleys? They meant something to me. But I never intended to care about them again.”

  Emmie opened her mouth.

  “You keep your demons I’ll keep mine,” Alixa snapped, shutting down the curious girl. “Now that we’re getting closer, I’m not so keen on it. I think you can relate?”

  “Knowing somebody there hated me enough to try to kill me gives me the chills. If it’s because I’m royalty or something, that’s even scarier. Exciting. But scary.”

  “Excited are we, Princess Emmie?”

  Emmie grinned and turned red. “I thought we weren’t making assumptions.”

  “You already have, judging by your face. You like the ring of that—Princess Emmie?”

  “I don’t know. I guess. Haven’t gotten my head around it.”

  “Like I said, if there’s a good excuse to delay going, then the lake it is.”

  “That’s me and you. You sure you know what Renn wants? He’s not facing his past up there, you know.”

  “Oh, my innocent little sheep, that you even have to ask.” Alixa draped her arm over Emmie’s shoulders. “It’s not his past that scares him. He’s terrified of losing his future. But, hey, you don’t want to talk about that, do you, Princess Emmie?”

  She clapped the suddenly flummoxed Emmie hard on the back.

  “Speed it up, everyone. We got places to be!”

  She shot Emmie a sly squint and strode off.

  Up and down hills the trio travelled. Slowly the landscape began to change. As they descended into one valley, Emmie and Renn were transported back to the first day of their journey. The valley teemed with the big Du-Banyon ‘platform’ trees they had discussed only in theory on that distant, relatively carefree day. Alixa had seen small Du-Banyons north of Bersteg Basin, but nothing like the massive trees they found themselves surrounded by now. After cautiously believing her that the largest, sprawling trees could indeed hold all three of them, they spent two comfortable and safe—if not a bit anxious—nights in the cupped platforms. For Renn and Emmie, it was like living in a fairy tale. Alixa didn’t seem to share that sentiment. When Emmie kept badgering as to why, an increasingly agitated Alixa finally spoke her mind. Well, a tiny piece of her mind.

  “I’ve heard rumors about this immense Du-Banyon forest,” Alixa recalled cryptically. “I thought it was a legend. Always attached to some wild story.”

  When they pressed her on what the story was, she remained tight-lipped. They marched through the hills, often in silence, except for the frequent assurances from Alixa they’d hit easier going soon.

  Just over this hill.

  Then just over the next.

  Renn grew cynical of her bald attempts at keeping them going her breakneck speed. Emmie glowered and pouted but didn’t have the energy to protest. And when they finally hit that last rolling hill, they stared in awe.

  “It’s beautiful,” Emmie said.

  “Oh my,” Renn replied, mesmerized. “Yes, it is.”

  A magnificent prairie stretched out before them for what seemed like forever. The lush prairie grasses bobbed and swayed to an unfelt breeze; a vast, rhythmic, and rolling golden ocean. Alixa gazed crossly at it, not nearly as moved as Renn and Emmie.

  “Lix, what’s wrong?” Emmie asked.

  “I thought this place was just a myth to frighten little kids at bedtime.” She scanned the grasslands with her sharp eyes, looking for. . . looking for . . . Renn and Emmie exchanged perplexed looks. Alixa wasn’t one to be spooked by anything. Certainly not by a long, lolling prairie of softly blowing grass.

  “This is supposed to be myth,” Alixa muttered and stalked away from them.

  They skirted the massive meadowlands for the better part of two days, working their way south along the western edge, each step taking them further from the lake. Alixa succinctly shared the stories she’d grown up with but refused to elaborate further. Emmie refused to let it be.

  “You’re convinced this old legend needs to be heeded?” Emmie padded along behind Alixa, pestering her for the umpteenth time. “Don’t you think these wanderlions or whatever, are just a ghost story to scare little wheat-headed girls?”

  “Wanderlions, brendals, you name it. Each region seems to have their own name, but everywhere north of the Vale there are stories and myths,” Alixa replied. “If you’re asking me if I’ve ever seen a Wander? Again, no, I have not. And I don’t care to.”

  “You really think there’s anything to this legend?” Renn asked.

  Alixa about-faced on them. One more time, she told herself. She’d explain it civilly just once more. If they insist again, they’ll get that ‘old’ Alixa they thought they’d seen the last of.


  “Think. Everyone uses different names. Our stories call them wanderlions. They’re brendals back in the basins. The Winnepaca simply call them she-devils. This isn’t a single myth getting passed around. Must be based, somehow, on facts. It always involves this golden prairie ocean, which to a kid like me, growing up in the rocky tablelands, was every bit the legend as the Wanders themselves. And look.” She waved out across the endless grass lilting in the breeze. “There’s the ocean, real as you and me. So I’ve no reason not to believe there isn’t a grain of truth in the Wander stories. No matter how illogical it sounds.”

  She’d recounted the legend to them twice already. Despite a world of potential, the prairie sat untouched and virtually unseen for centuries. Any attempt to explore it ended in failure and devastation. Always attributed to the mythical wanderlions; long, lean predators with uncanny speed, intelligence, and agility. Upright on their back legs, they appeared almost human with their long straight mane hanging like hair around their saucer-like eyes. In most of the stories, these eyes betrayed an intelligence beyond that of a ground predator. The worst origin myths placed them as a banished band of rebellious Mountain noblewomen who had raised the ire of the witch-queen and were cursed to lose their humanity. Retaining enough awareness to know they were once humans of great power and position, they were doomed to patrol the land they once tried to turn into their own kingdom, in defiance of her will.

  “That they were once human, that’s myth,” Alixa scoffed. “As to their actual existence? I don’t care to find out.”

  With that, Alixa was done. Emmie and Renn were wise enough to not push any further.

  By evening of their third day, Alixa had spotted a pass. She estimated it couldn’t be more than 15-20 miles wide. She wouldn’t attempt it late afternoon; they’d cross at first light. Nestled high in the platform of a Du-Banyon, Renn and Emmie slept easily. Alixa, however, the instinctive woodswoman she was, stayed awake well past midnight, training her eyes, ears, and nose to the grasses. Repeatedly, she sensed something indistinct deep across the expanse. She mentally cataloged what her senses told her, gripped her beloved sword like a warrior’s cuddlebear, and willed her body and mind—but not her senses—to sleep.