Snowberry's Veil

Part 9

I heard a scratching, scrabbling sound, and one plank of the wooden side lifted, revealing a little raccoon face. She climbed into the room and sat down facing me in the dark, smoky air. It looked like the girl I'd glimpsed from the meeting hall, a young adolescent of their kind. She wore a leather apron of sorts that I'd seen on the mature females in the village, and feathers from several earrings in each ear. She had more than the other girls I'd seen, possibly some indication of status. Her large, dark eyes stared at me a while, roving over my scratched and bruised body and ragged pants, making me uncomfortable. I expected her father and a gang of warriors to burst in any moment and stab me sixty times with those spears, yet I was afraid to move or say anything lest she cry out.

She cocked her head to one side, appraisingly, then smiled. It was interesting, how the beastmen were able to mimic human expression. Their faces looked almost exactly like the animals they were named for, yet more expressive and with an intelligent demeanor. She pulled a little stone knife out from a sheath at her belt and started scratching lines on the floor, little concentric circles that uncovered light wood uncolored by the smoke and years.

"Papa told me to stay away from you," she said simply. I was surprised to hear her speaking my language, with an unusual accent.

"Probably wise. Yet here you are."

She looked up at me suddenly, peering into my eyes to see if I was making fun of her. She looked uncertain, probably because I was a human and she wasn't used to how I looked.

"You speak my tongue, how is that?" I had to know.

"We had a man here a while, he was all hurt and the elders took him in, he got better and stayed until I was old enough to get my first earring." She spoke as if that epoch changing event was well known by all. Possibly her coming of age ritual, I reasoned, but who knew? I'd like to stay and find out, but circumstances didn't make that very plausible.

"What happened to the man?"

"He left us, eventually. I guess he liked to explore, and write down what he saw; he left over the mountains and we never saw him again. He had white hairs on his face, and was older looking than you.

"I used to talk to him a lot, he taught me how to speak his language and I taught him ours. He taught me how to write, too, and some stuff about plants."

I blinked a few times. That could have been old Carsin, he wasn't a ranger, rather a scribe and a traveler; he studied and wrote some of the best histories and natural studies of the land, books that rangers studied. Some said he was a Druid, but whether he was a follower of that cult or not I never knew. If he'd been through here, he might be around somewhere, or at least his notes, if he didn't make it. They would be invaluable.

"He always wore lots of clothes, like he was cold. Are you cold?"

"Not in here, no. I'm comfortable with the heat of the smoke fires. But I was very cold before. I lost almost all of my clothes, and my equipment. Some Wolf Clan were chasing me, I barely got away."

She nodded, concentrating on her carving. I could see her peek up at me sometimes while we talked, like she was stealing information in every glance.

"He was nice. Are they going to kill you?"

"Well, I hope not, but that might happen." She seemed so matter of fact about my grisly fate.

"I hope not too. You seem nice, like he was. Maybe when you go on your quest I can go."

"Why would you want to do that? Wouldn't that make your father angry?"

"I never get to go anywhere, I'm supposed to stay here and be ready for when mama finds me a mate. I can't risk doing anything interesting; I stay here all day and learn stuff." She rolled her eyes in an amazingly human gesture and I stifled a laugh. Wouldn't do to make her think I was laughing at her.