Tales of Wind and Fire: Giver

Chapter: 3

The kitsune did not at all understand what was going on. The wind carried him here somehow, it was terrifying, he felt weightless and couldn't even see his own paws when he traveled through the air! He was a breath! Then he crashed into the ground and became himself again.
Suddenly he saw a strange creature standing before him. He jumped up quickly, wobbling a little from hunger. Quickly he swiveled his ears and sniffed. Yes. Spirit. It was a male, half-grown, and unfamiliar to him. But there was something odd about it. It smelt of spirit, but also not-spirit. It smelt of forest horse and red deer and wolverine, and fresh blood— and something else: a new smell that he hadn't yet learnt.
This was very odd. Unless—unless—it meant that the not spirit spirit was actually a spirit who'd eaten lots of different prey, and was now bringing the cub some food!
Shivering with eagerness, the cub wagged all nine its tails and yipped a noisy welcome.
For a moment the strange spirit stopped. Then it moved forward again. It walked on its hind legs. The fur on its head was yellow, and so long that it nearly reached his shoulders.  And strangest of all— It had no energy surge on its body! Yet it sounded like spirit. It was talking in a strange language the cub didn't understand, yet a soft melody in the boys speech sounded familiar. It sounded a bit like: it's alright, I'm a friend. This was reassuring, even though the cub wasn't a hundred percent sure that's what it said. But something was wrong. Beneath the friendliness there was a tense note. And although the strange spirit was smiling, the kitsune could tell it didn't really mean it. The cub's welcome changed into a whimper. Are you hunting me? Why?
       No,no, came the friendly but not-friendly melody of the stranger. Then the strange spirit stopped talking and advanced in frightening silence.
Too weak to run, the kitsune backed away. The stranger lunged, grabbed the cub by the scruff, and lifted him high.
Weakly, the cub wagged its tails to fend off an attack. The strange spirit lifted its hand and pressed a huge silver claw against the cub's belly. The cub yelped. Grinning in terror, he whipped his tails between his legs. But the strange spirit was frightened too. Its hands were shaking, and it was gulping and baring its teeth. The cub sensed loneliness and uncertainty and pain. Suddenly, the strange spirit took another gulp, and jerked its great claw away from the cub's belly. Then it sat down heavily in the mud, and clutched the cub to its chest. The cub's terror had vanished. Through the strange furless hide that smelt of deer pelt, the cub could hear a comforting thump-thump. The cub wriggled out of the strange spirit's grip, put its forepaws on its chest, and stood on its hind legs. He began to lick the stranger's muzzle. Angrily, the strange spirit pushed him away, and he fell backwards. Undeterred, he rightened himself and gazed at the strange spirit. Such a strange face, why did it look so familiar? The cub didn't really care about the appearance.
He found a new friend.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bennu was furious with himself. Why didn't he kill the kitsune? Now what was he going to eat? The cub jabbed its nose into his bruised ribs, making him yelp. "Get off!" He shouted, kicking it away. "I don't want you! Understand? You're no use! Go away!" The cub picked up his meaning well enough. It trotted off a few paces, then sat down and looked at him hopefully, sweeping the floor with its tails. Bennu got to his feet— and the world tilted sickeningly.
He had to eat soon. He looked around for any signs of food, but saw nothing. Hopelessness washed over him. The sun was getting low. What should he do? Camp here? But what about the Phoenix? Had it finished with Ma, and is coming after him? Something twisted painfully in his chest. Don't think about Ma. Think what to do. If the Phoenix followed you, it would've killed you by now. So maybe you'll be safe here— at least for tonight. Bennu knew of a nearby river and decided to camp next to it. It took only a few minutes to reach, and the willows in the river bank gave natural cover. He decided to set up a trap for the night. First, he would use his own bandage to bait a deadfall, in the hope of trapping something overnight. The bandage wasn't good bait, but the smell of blood might attract small predators like a Compy or even a Rat. It was a struggle to set up the trap: to prop up a flat rock on a stick, then slot in another stick crossways to act as a trigger. He picked a few Narcoberries from a tree and added them in with the bandage. The berries were poisonous to humans, but some small herbivores loved them. He just finished when the kitsune trotted over and gave the deadfall an inquisitive sniff. Bennu grabbed its muzzle and slammed it to the ground. "No!" He said firmly. "You stay away!" The cub shook itself and recovered with an offended air. Better offended than dead, thought Bennu. He knew he'd been unfair: he should have attempted to warn it first, and only muzzle grabbed if it didn't listen. But he was too tired to worry about that. Besides, why even bother warning it at all? He didn't care if it got squashed. What did he care if he could understand it, or why? What use was that?
He stood up and his knees barely managed to hold him up. Bennu knew he was too disorientated to try spear fishing, so he set some grass snares and walked back to the river. The water wasn't deep, so he crossed to look for berries on the other side. The Kitsune however was scared and didn't want to go into the cold water.
Good, thought Bennu. You stay there. I don't want you pestering me. He walked away and the cub mewed at him to come back, but he didn't care. As he searched, the sun sank lower. The air grew sharp. Bennu's jerkin glistened in the misty breath of the forest. He had a hazy thought that he should be building a shelter instead of looking for food, but he pushed it away.
At last he found a handful of crowberries and gulped them down. Then some late lingonberries; a couple of snails; a clutch of yellow bog-mushrooms- a bit maggoty, but not bad.
It was nearly dusk when he got lucky and found a pignut. With a sharp stick he dug down carefully, following the windings stems to the small, knobby root. He chewed the first one: it tasted sweet and nutty, but was barely a mouthful. After much exhausting digging, he grubbed up four more, ate two and stuffed two in his jerkin for later. Strength returned to his limbs, but his mind was still hazy. What should he do now? He thought for awhile— a shelter that's it! While walking back Bennu remembered his childhood. His mother taught him how to fight, she was raised by monks. He never knew his father, his dad died when Bennu was still very young, but his mother told him his father was a great swordsman too. Swordsmanship became his obsession, his mother taught him kendo at a very young age and he thought himself to be good at it, but his mother was a master. When an Allosaurus attacked their oxen years ago, Ma fended it off by herself, not even getting hit by the creatures ferocious bite once. She stood firm and killed the beast, they loaded it onto the caravan and traded it to a butcher in town for some currency. With the currency she bought Bennu his own katana, the one he still uses today. The cub was waiting for him on the other side of the river. Shivering and yipping with delight upon seeing him. When he finished crossing, the cub threw itself at him with a big kitsune-smile. It didn't just wrinkle its muzzle and draw back its lips; it smiled with its whole body. It slicked back its ears and tilted its head to one side; it waved its tails and waggled its forepaws, and made great twisting leaps in the air. Watching it made Bennu giddy, so he ignored it. Besides, he needed to build a shelter. He found some deadwood near the river. He was lucky, they were still dry. Bennu was too exhausted to make the campfire rain proof. If it rained he'd have to rely on his sleeping-sack to keep him dry, and pray that the water goddess wouldn't send a flash flood. He ate another pignut, but he'd only just swallowed the pignut when his belly heaved, and he spewed it up again. The cub yipped with delight and gulped down the sick. Why did I do that? Thought Bennu. Did I eat a bad mushroom?
But it didn't feel like a bad mushroom. It felt like something else. He was sweating and shivering, and although there was nothing left in his belly to throw up, he still felt sick. A horrible suspicion gripped him. He looked at the cut on his leg—and fear settled on him like an icy fog. The wound was swollen, angry red. It smelt bad. He could feel heat coming off it. When he touched it, pain flared. A sob rose on his chest. He was exhausted, hungry and frightened, and desperately wanted Ma. And now he had a new enemy.

Fever.