Ghost2A.txt
Ghost 2, Part 1 - Violence/Humor/Fantasy/Language/Culture - June 17, 2011 By Afril, With help from Chaos Blackwing (cl) 2011 The Gay Furry Association
A tail of the one known as Ghost - A re-write
Chapter 1 - Demolition
The fox sighed. He should have known the whole thing was a set-up. Not that it mattered - His 'employer' learned the hard way one doesn't laugh at the Mountain Clan's honor. Still, he should have watched his temper - You killed the fly, not take out the wall. Not demolish the room. And certainly not destroy the whole building - Even if the fly was just as dead either way. Finesse over brute strength, his Master would say... Just before ripping yet another strip of hide off his back with a bamboo pole. Discipline marks - His head fur had grown over them, but they would remain for as long as he lived.
That was the problem with anger - You forget things. Mind, he had not forgotten Anything when he 'graduated' from the temple by killing his Master - The Council decided to let the body lay in it's hole and covered it with rocks... Some of which melted. That was when the first line in the character 'Path' had been burned on the back of his right hand. Like all his other tests, he passed by living through it. But he was tired... Perhaps a vacation - Free food. A quiet place to sleep. He heard modern prisons were pretty nice places to stay in - Better than a cold rain shower on a park bench anyway. He had won and lost several fortunes, finding money was better given away than hoarded. Besides, what would he buy, a weapon? His whole body was a weapon - He had been trained to kill since he was old enough to hold a knife. Vehicles were nice, but when you walked, you could listen to the birds sing, the insects chirping... You might even get to watch a feral slip through the woods. And no amount of money could purchase the feeling of a curious fawn nosing your palm, still too young to be afraid.
So he sat and waited for the Guard, who took their time getting to the scene... Old buildings fell over all the time - But not like This! The first wolf out of the car looked at the rubble and gasped, "Fell over, my Ass! What the Hells happened here?" All he needed was another Gas Leak explosion... A sigh got his attention.
"I apologize. I allowed my temper to get the better of me. A hundred years ago, this would not have happened... I must be getting old."
He turned his head to see - A White Fox! The wolf had seen gray muzzles, even a few silver ones, but White? How damn old did you have to be to have White fur? How do you even Address one this age - Grand Sire, Great Grand Sire? The Guard scratched an ear in frustration... "Elder?" got a soft smile. The fellow probably wandered away from whichever home he was residing in, and fell over the rubble pile - If the bang was loud enough, he might have even thought he was back fighting one of the Clan wars. There were no quakes reported, and no other buildings were damaged... Hells! The dust was barely settled - An hour at most.
The Guard quickly looked the male over - No signs of blood or trauma. At least the NewsVids hadn't shown up as yet... 'Elder Fox Left Bleeding By Callous Guards'.The last thing he wanted was to stand in Full uniform in front of a Council of Elders and explain how This happened. His partner was on the radio - One dazed bystander, no need for an ambulance. The pair of wolves got the male up and into the back of their car, draping a blanket over him...
"So, you Are arresting me?"
Why would he want to be - "Elder?"
"Inside yonder rubble pile you will find the remains of one Mister Richhein. I really should have just done him in. But there was no one else in the building - And he made me Angry." the white male muttered, head down. "I really need some time off..."
The younger wolf leaned in and kissed the fox's cheek, getting another soft smile. "When did you eat last, Elder?"
"Yesterday..."
The Guard pulled his older partner to the back of the car, lips pulling back to show his fangs, ears halfway down in distress.
"What?"
"Did you not Smell him?"
The older male looked puzzled. "No residue, no blood... He wasn't hurt, and he definitely didn't do..."
"Idiot! Leaves from sleeping on the ground. A hint of mold - He has been washing in rainwater, probably from a barrel. He ate yesterday, but didn't say from What... Even If someone is in that rubble, why tell such a tale - Unless it would grant him a hot meal. A warm bath. A mattress to sleep upon."
They looked around... No one was coming forward to claim the male. "But if he was in Need, all he would have to do is ask..."
The younger returned to the side of the vehicle. "Elder, has it seemed cooler than usual these past evenings?"
"Indeed... I have seen my breath several nights now. 'The icy maiden does yet jealously guard the moon's passing'."
Winter's Lament sounded... Dead when spoken in 'Common'. But when given voice in Wolven...
The wolves closed the doors, lest the Elder scent their anger.
* * * *
The Fundamental Rights of All Living Beings:
Shelter - There Shall Be A Roof Above One's Head. Be it the woven sticks of a mudhut or the ceiling of the most opulent mansion, No one would be left in the rain.
Warmth - There Shall Be A Place For Fire. Whether a small cup held by a statue of the Hearth Goddess, a pit in the middle of a dirt floor or a whole burning tree, Cold will be kept at bay.
Food - There Shall Be Enough To Share. The broth may be Thin, but always plentiful.
Handed down from the times when Wanderers would come to a Village and trade whatever they had - Sometimes goods, sometimes work... Sometimes news from other villages and the outside world, in Exchange for a warm place to sleep and a full belly. Before the Trade caravans, they Were the Store. The Messenger. The Healer, and the Shaman who spoke the Rites of Passage for the Dead... Even if they had to be whispered in an ear first.
To have an Old One wandering the Streets was Shameful. To have him wandering for Days was Unforgivable - May as well Piss on your GrandSire's Ashes!
The younger male ticked off points on his fingers - "He has not Eaten for a Day. He has been without Warmth - Unless you count those damn Steam vents, for Several days." He growled and looked at what was left of the building. "I would ask how long he has been without Shelter, but I would not take his last shred of honor. Poor male - All he has is his Pride, and what is on his back..." He thought for a moment, looking at the rubble... "Or Worse - He is a cracked-his-head-on-a-rock Looney, and doesn't believe he Needs help..."
It was a Mess. A clear-up-to-your-ass-in-it Mess. He forced his lip to uncurl, opened the Storage-box, and took a bottle of water from the Emergency kit. Then he returned to the male. "Elder, Please stay here. If you need to go, let one of us know, and we will assist you."
"You are most kind. I shall be fine here, Thank You."
Again the door closed and two very pissed wolves investigated the scene - Wishing it was throats and not merely broken concrete under their claws. They managed to cool off enough to only *growl* when a van pulled up and cameras swarmed out.
"What Happened here? Was it Another Gas Leak? When would the Council do something About this hazard to the Common Citizen... Hey - Who's being arrested? Did they have something to do with it?"
The older Guard snorted... They had no idea what had caused the old building to fall over - Yet. The one in the back of the vehicle was an Elder they found sitting beside the rubble, and were transporting him for observation by a healer. Now, if they wanted to do a story on 'Elder male trips on rubble pile', Perhaps the Council would move faster on cleaning up such hazards.
Damn... Not even a good drunk story. Just some dip who tripped on his own two feet - That wasn't even worth wasting film on. The crews jumped back into the van and took off, hoping to find an accident or a marital spat.
You Really want a story? 'Shelterless Ancient Elder sleeps on the ground, washes his only garment in rain-water - While City Council debates what to have for noon meal.'
They got into the car. "Elder, Will the Goddess of the Hearth suffice for your Fire-Holder?"
The fox nodded. "You two really are most kind..."
That only made the shame burn harder... "Station, this is Patrol 8. We are inbound with a Snowball. I repeat, a Snowball. At least a week old - Ask the Chief where he wants it."
No one had called in or dropped by to say they were missing a white-haired fox. Nothing on the board from the other Stations either...
"Station - An update on that Snowball... It might be imported."
There Would be a Roof - Even if it was a ceiling painted to look like the woven branches of a hut. There Would be Fire - A small one, but if the Elder wanted it going even while he slept, there were twigs a'plenty. A shower and a hot meal, of course. There was hope he was not a Local after all - A Wanderer. And if he Was such? Then he would be given Clan-Rites fit for a Guest of the City!
Chapter 2 - Shelter
The Chief was struggling to get his coat on, recite the Clan-Welcome and Not break out in a sweat. "Is the Healer here yet? I need something for my stomach..."
"I am here, Grizzled one. We go to greet an Elder, not the Council Review." Green eyes filled with warmth as the wolf gulped down the concoction. Black as night fur contrasted with the white robe, the Beating Heart symbol that was his badge of Office on one side, the 'Hands of the Gods', signifying he had also gone through the Shaman Rituals on the other. "We have time yet... A warm bath, a hot meal and a good grooming - I will do a prelim exam while he is in the shower. Do we give him a Clan-Robe?"
Hells, Yes! Maybe that ghoul of a Cameramale would enjoy taking a picture of a Live body for once... Then he cringed. "You had better use all 6 rings. I know the holes have close - OW!" The wolf rubbed his rump where a dark hand had popped him.
"I thought you liked me swatting your rear... And That's number 6."
You Sneaky Bastard! 3 silver rings on one side and 3 gold ones on the other. Coins were heavy, bulky and didn't Trade well. A solid gold or silver hoop could be removed from an ear and replaced much more easily. Some places still measured money in 'Rings', 5 to the 'Ear'.
"And we welcome you with Open hands. Please, Take Shelter with us, Elder..." He huffed... "Common Be Damned! We will greet him Properly, if I have to find a 'Talks-Through-His-Ass' Translator..."
The panther bowed out, but not before adding - "I told you to get the next larger size..."
" 'Out! Out, Collector of Moth-Larva. Mange-Ridden, Harbinger of Fleas... And dare not return, until your words be sweeter.' And Healer..." The feline turned his head. "I want a Full Report - Even the things that Don't go in the Records. Once our Palms touch, he is Clan - But it would be nice to know if he argues with his salad bowl..."
Another nod, and the black male was gone. The wolf sighed, and tried to suck in just a Little more stomach. Healers came from a Pool - You got whoever was ready at the time. At the time, nobody was sure how a panther would fit in at an all-wolf workplace... Until he came in, pinched the Sargent-on-Duty's butt, and announced he was the new healer, where did he park his bag?
* * * *
The patrol vehicle slid into the Garage very quietly. And the Guards bundled their 'Snowball' into the elevator, and up the back way to Processing. Still, word got around...
Chapter 3 - We are many wolves, but we are One Pack!
SeniorGuard of the Watch was Staring at the First-Year wolf like the male was something he scraped off his foot. As the not quite shivering Guard tried his best not to piss himself, he barked out the latest update - "E...Everyone but DayWatch is pre... Preparing Senior Guard, Sir."
A clawed finger ran across a shiny brass button. "Puppy, do you know what a 'SnowBall' is?'"
"Yes SeniorGuard, Sir! A 'Snowball' is someone with white hair."
*Rip* went the button to roll on the floor.
"Do you know what a 10-Day is?"
"Of course, SeniorGuard..."
*Rip* went the second button.
"Shall I use your brain for you? A White-Furred male has been found to be sleeping on the streets for at least a week. No one has come here, looking for a 'Wanderer'. We haven't heard from any of the other Stations about a missing fox either..."
The amber eyes went wide... "But SeniorGuard - That would mean..."
"A ClanLost Elder - Maybe Grand Elder. Possibly Great-GrandSire Elder, has been 'Rouging-it' - In. Our. City. For a 10-Day."
The FirstYear wolf's ears were up by sheer will, but his eyes Burned... This went beyond Shame. One by one, the young wolf ripped the rest of the buttons off his jacket, letting them lay where they fell.
"Now you know Why this is Not a Jail, but a WayShelter. Whey we Guard, not Herd. Now as for DayWatch..." The old wolf took a breath - Then snarled, "I want Everyone who is Not Dead in Honor Dress when the ClanChief walks down here. That means Polished Boots. Starched Gloves. Buffed Claws. Clan Symbols displayed proudly... We are many wolves, but we are One Pack!"
'If those Council bastards want to know Why there are no patrols out, They can come Here and explain to His Nose, Why the Ancient One was never given a Proper Welcoming!'
The young male snapped to attention, jacket hanging open. And he gasped when the SeniorGuard undid a Rank-Mark from his own sleeve, handing it to the canine.
"You are now FirstYear Leader. Pay is the same, responsibility is doubled. Do the paperwork tomorrow... And if I find so much as a Single fingerprint on a gold button..."
The amber eyes no longer stared through him but At him. "There will be Daily HonorGuard drills until there Are no fingerprints, or unbuffed claws or Any other reason for you to find Dishonor with us. SeniorGuard..."
A nod and the young wolf didn't quite run to the dressing area, because running wasn't allowed.
* * * *
The newly promoted Guard tossed his jacket in his locker, the Wolf-paw went onto the miniature Clan-Flag every locker carried - And when he got off-shift, It was going into a Treasurebox at his ClanLodge! As his Den-mates came to stare at it he growled quietly, "Pass the Word - SeniorGuard says if you are Not Dead you Are to be in Honor Dress - That includes Patrol. Rumors are true - We have a 'Snowball'..."
He swallowed, gritted his teeth and continued. "We are Sheltering a White-haired Elder, who is possibly..." Another swallow. "Who Is also ClanLost." He stood up, undoing his shirt and hanging it up. "No one has come forward to claim him. No one Anywhere has asked about him or said someone was missing - Citizens have their heads crammed so far up their asses, they wouldn't know it was raining if We didn't tell them..."
Others were also hurried undressing, moving to the grooming area to comb and brush out any loose hair. "Watch Posts, Vehicle Patrols, Beat Walkers... A whole damn City of Guards - Yet no one saw a White being lying on a bench, sitting by a steam grate. No one heard the dull click of a cracked toe-claw. The rustle of fur against cloth as someone Shivers. Or maybe they did - And didn't bother to Write. It. Down." He was tugging at a snarl so fiercely he was about to pull the hair out. His partner quickly took the comb and undid the tangle, but lips were curled upwards.
Lazy got you killed. Sure there long stretches of boredom... Your attention wandered and you would do something that irritated your partner and he would growl at you to quit doing... That. In a few minutes he would be doing the exact same thing - Tapping his finger claws, humming something, rubbing your rump. Maybe you had some stupid erotic fantasy and reached over to grab your partner's crotch - Gender didn't matter. You might get your ear smacked. You might get Your crotch grabbed. You might even get your head turned and a hot one planted on your muzzle!
Then both of you would howl like lunatics, get out and stretch, smell what was on the wind, get something to drink... But you were awake, alert, ready to do your job again. Bullets didn't discriminate - They simply made holes in things.
As FirstYear Leader dressed, he felt a sharp pain in his ear. "OW! Alright, which one of you Puppies just gnawed on... My..." Pranks were usual to ease the tension but this was somehow... Different. He got up and went to the mirrors. In the tip of his left ear, a silver ring gleamed. Gods! Don't let him drip blood on his uniform!
"Alright you hyenas... Fun's over. Gloves on hands before you even Touch those jackets. I promised SeniorGuard there would be No prints on Our Gold Buttons. Everybody double-check everybody else - If certain Canines can not be bothered to uphold Clan Responsibilities, We Damn Sure Will!"
Chapter 4 - Processing and Handling
3 wolves sat at a table with a white fox who had a blanket tucked around his body and a steaming cup of coffee - a Real glass cup and saucer with the Great Pack of Wolves logo stamped on it ('Sovereign Nation' be Damned), in front of him.
"Elder... When we are done, we will get you a shower - And the Healer is going to look you over. Then we can promise you a meal. After that we have a little Ceremony that has to be done - You can sit if you like. Then your own bed... Is this alright?"
"Yes, Thank You. You are most kind."
He was polite. He was lucid... And he was a Looney - Dropping a house on someone... *Snerk* Maybe the poor, addled male believed it himself. Didn't matter, he was Their Guest until a Judge either moved him elsewhere - Or he was taken in by a Clan... Like Theirs.
"Male. Fox. We'll let the Healer figure out his age. Brands on the backs of his hands - Yes, Brands. Found him by the rubble-pile on Adigij."
Not another one! The guards would have no hair Left on their butts by the time the Chief got through chewing on them - At least he would be distracted with the Ceremony for a while...
The Processing officer took a rough hand, shaking his head. They were real... And forget about prints. The 'leather' had enough crags and creases in it, but not a single identifying mark was left - As if the skin had been... Burned off. He didn't even have to look at the male's feet to know they would be the same - What the Hells did you Do during the Clan-Wars, That your identity had to be erased? This smelled of things best not talked about...
'Due to age and living conditions, Identifying marks on hands and feet could not be taken.'
He studied the First Report again - Any Guard could write one in his sleep... And some probably did!
"Elder, if I may ask - Do you remember how long you have been... Outside?"
The fox sipped his coffee. "When the nights were warm, All I needed was a creek, some berries and my fur. Then I had to come here for... Business, and ended up not getting paid. I'm sorry - I wander sometimes. I have been Here about 18 days now - There are plenty of bridges to sleep under. The park is nice too - If one doesn't mind squirrels plucking all the loose, and not-so-loose hairs off one's body."
The wolves made a mental note to widen their walking Patrols to include such places.
"Food was surprisingly easy. Roots, grasses... I admit to being tempted a couple of times by fruit hanging over a fence line. I try and always pay for what I get - There were plenty of small places where a meal could be had for some minor repairs that needed to be done. It is amazing how many leaky roofs there are in the South area."
More mental notes... The Chief was going to Love this - Building Clan falling down on the Job.
"As I said, I didn't get paid, My employer being under all that rubble, so I was Glad you nice Guards came along - It has been getting cold at night. 'Tighter, Ever Tighter the White Lady squeezes her fist upon the Land. She knows her time is ending... And yet, She will give up the soil when they drag her frozen claws from it.' "
The wolves shuddered... Whoever this male was, he knew how to 'Sing'.
* * * *
"Are you here to examine me, or Seduce me?" is how the panther was greeted as he came in naked to the shower area.
"Maybe a little of Both, White-Butt..." Feline humor was usually crude and to the Point.
The water was warm on his dark hands as he caressed the white hair. "How long have you been growing this Elder?" The Why was easy, as the male found out when he parted the strands. The panther had a strong stomach, but this was just...
"Would you like some oil on your back?" (I will have to tell the others about this)
"If you wish." (I am ok with it) Elders were like old explosives - Poke them wrong and *Boom*. So much touched on Honor, Pride - Things half-remembered, or half-forgotten.
"You can touch me anyplace you like..." The white head turned and the blue eye twinkled - "You Are a Healer, After all."
A laugh exploded from the feline, and he slapped the firm fox-ass. Then left to get soap and oil from his bag. Damn... There wasn't a single hair from shoulder to hip. Just ridges and indentations... Old boot leather was more supple. He gently worked the skin as best he could, rubbing the excess into the pink nipples, getting a murr.
"I think I will do your snowy trellises next... You know how hard Knots are to get out, once they are rooted."
This time the fox barked a laugh. "I like your soap. Northern Tribe?"
"I thought you Might, Snow-Fox Cross. The blue eyes are a dead giveaway. And your muzzle is too wide to be completely Fox, yet not enough to be Wolf. Maybe coyote?"
The male sighed. "I do not know Who my parents were - I was laid on the Temple doorstep, and raised by the ones inside to be a Warrior."
Everywhere the dark fingers touched, there were remnants of Scars. "So I feel..."
The fox sighed again. "I do not think I can accept their offer. Shelter is easy... But my clan is * "
The feline almost dug into his ears... He knew Feline, Canine, Ursine, and a dozen trade-languages well enough to do what was needed. But Never had he heard - That. "Ummmm... Elder?" He continued to wash the waterfall of white hair, working the stiffness from the strong shoulders.
The fox chuckled. "It translates as 'Scattered to the Winds'."
"Please Elder... Do not tease me."
< We are the People of the Mountains of HylMong. Scattered like leaves before the Storm of our Emperor's Wrath, we wander without Shelter. No Fire to warm ourselves by. No Roof to shield us from the rains. Yet, as long as One of us remains - We are Clan. >
"You are supposed to be washing my hair, not crying on my ears, Kitten. And don't refer to me as The Ancient One... I am not Older than Dirt, yet. Which is probably a good thing - Scratcher-Of-Soil."
The feline choked out a laugh... The word meant both Farmer and what Ferals do in the woods. "Do you want your fur braided, Elder?"
"That would be nice. Do I need rings?"
The healer shook his head. "You are not a Trader, You are a Guest." Some of the tension bled out of the male. He finished his work, managed to rummage up a tail-comb to set the braid in place, and helped the fox dress in a plain gray robe.
A small fire in the cup of the Goddess, which the white male prayed over for a while. A hot meal, which the white male thanked the Guard for. Nothing was hurried - They had All Day to do this. The Elder didn't scarf it up with both hands, but he did eat Everything - Including the WildGrass decoration that nobody touched. Then some pictures with and without a shirt - There was no need for 'Identifying marks'... His whole damn back was Marked! Close-ups of the Brands (Shudder) went into the file with the healer's report, the Patrol's report, The Chief's recommendations...
Chapter 5 - Revelations
"He What!? He Has What?! He is WHAT?!" The wolf sat down heavily, listening to the feline tick off things... He was a hybrid, At least One part Northern Fox. That meant Anything Canine could claim him as Kin. And the Damn Northern Clans were a nest of Stingers at the Best of times. He was orphaned, raised by Warrior Monks. Second Continent for Sure. There were some places still fighting border disputes... And of course he has White Fur. Not Light Gray or even Silver... Pure. Damn. White. And - It was permanent. Which of course meant, no Summer coat that might help narrow what Damn Species his ancestors were!
The panther handed him a loose one. Not a band, not a fleck, not a speck of color. He swallowed heavily. "How old..."
The healer sat down as well. "I don't know if he started out Silver, but normally... It takes at Least a Century to lose pigment. Another 50 years to lose it completely... So loosely - He was born about the time We colonized this place. And he may be older, except there is no way to tell - Every cell on his body has been replaced at least a couple of dozen times by now. His Father's butt may have been on one of the rocks at the First Gathering of Tribes...."
Hooch was not normally served before a Ceremony, but a little 'Nerve-Tonic' was about All that was keeping the Chief's fur in place.
"Here's what I can tell you - Every place he has skin, there is probably a scar-trace. Someone worked over his back with a Bamboo Pole, for several Years. The Brands were done one line at a time, and I gather are his Clan-Symbols."
The canine shuddered. Then he Looked at the second helping of brown liquid the Healer was pouring... "It gets Worse?" He gulped it, wincing as the feline nodded.
"He isn't ClanLost..."
The chief Sighed... "Good. That means we can find his Family and... What?"
"He is one of the Scattered."
* * * *
The Guard at the door clamped his hand over his muzzle, and walking on his heels so his toe-claws didn't touch the floor, he went to the Other door where several more wolves lounged around.
"Well? Well?! What did you find out?" Did the Elder have to speak in Feline? And Nobody knew what language that Fire-Prayer had been in... But it was damn Exotic! The Guard took several breaths, but could only manage a wheeze. Then he made a gesture with his hands - 'Hunter Talk'. Every cub knew hand-talk before they knew how to speak...
First a compass pointing North. Then a pair of pointed ears and a long muzzle. 'North Fox.' The sign for Father, repeated... But instead of pointing Up the tree, Which would be Sire, GrandSire, etc. They went Around the tree. 'Parents not of the same species'... Wolf, Fox, Coyote - Bear? That got a quiet snigger. Then the sign for Mother and Father, slashed by the other hand. 'Orphan...' Followed by Spear, Mountain, Robe. 'Mountain Warriors who wore Robes' - Temple monks. His back hunched, his muzzle was streaked by his fingers - They all Knew the Elder was old... Then the canine reached down and Tapped his Right Toe - Twice. And moved his hand up then down. 'About 200... Seasons?'
One final sign - Hands together, fingers clasped - 'Clan'. Then they jerked apart, fluttering like frightened birds going in all directions. 'The Forgotten Ones - Tribe Names lost to all but the ursine clans.' Clans scattered for many reasons, None of them good - Most of the time, they returned later and re-built. When they didn't, it was because there was nothing to return To. The Lodge not just Burned, but the ashes plowed under and something Else built over the site. Or cratered, like the village of Kemkto. Caught between 3 warring factions, each made sure the other 2 couldn't have it.
One by one, the wolves disappeared. Nothing was written down - This was muzzle to ear stuff...
The first Guard returned to his listening spot, hoping he hadn't missed anything - No, the Chief was still trying to recover.
The panther helped his friend up. "Breathe normally, but not too deep - Or someone will be picking up Your buttons."
Chapter 6 - The Ceremony
The Ceremony went by in short order. Two rows of Wolves in Honor Uniforms stood at attention and saluted the GrandElder as he walked by. The male may be old, but he missed Nothing - A claw tip caressed a wayward hair back into place. Coaxed a broken thread-end to hide itself better. Snatched a piece of lint or dust that Couldn't have been there a moment ago... SeniorGuard swallowed growl after growl - The GrandElder left nothing but perfection in his wake... And several pinched rumps as pups slouched Just a little. Yes, the boots pinched toe-claws. Yes, the uniforms itched...
And then everything stopped. A fly had found it's way in and smelling blood, was buzzing around the ear of a young wolf.
"You have the Power of Life and Death in your hands, Young Guard."
"E... Elder?" The wolf completely forgot about the insect and was concentrating very hard on not Pissing himself...
"There is an Irritant with a brain the size of an ink dot, flying around your ear. Will you kill it for being a nuisance - It is just a fly, after all."
"Or will you let it live... It may be a nuisance, but it is Still a Living Being."
The leathery hands took his. "Life... Death. Which shall it be?"
The Guard wanted to bite his lip in frustration... It was Just a fly. But it hadn't bitten him or done anything, but be a bother. Then he felt a claw-tip trace something on his wrist... A square. Lines inside the square. Lines crossing - Bars. A Cage!
"Perhaps Elder, a Third Choice. It could be caught, and taken outside..."
A white hand blurred and the fly was *Snatched* out of the air. "If you must Kill, Kill with Mercy." There was a tiny *crunch* from the compressed fist. The wolf felt a pang of sorrow for the creature... Then puzzlement as his hands were cupped together.
"A fork goes 3 ways... Left. Right. The way you came..." The young male felt something tickle his palm. But - Didn't the Elder just...
"An intersection gives at least 4." There Was something moving in his closed hands!
"And in an open field, as many paths as your feet wish to make. Congratulations on your Promotion."
They moved on, leaving one very dumbfounded Guard holding one very much alive fly.
* * * *
Everybody sat, one young male taking his place after tossing his 'captive' outside. The Ceremony was significant as much for what was Not said, as for what Was said. The Elder was welcomed to the City, formally given Shelter, Fire, Food... And asked to stay in his 'Den' until the City Council could see him. Which is basically what he did - Slept, washed, ate... And unless someone asked him a question, he was quiet. Too Quiet...
Chapter 7 - The Trial
At least the trial went quickly... The Judge scanned the paperwork, sighing. Did it have to be someone Important that they found - At least what was left of him. Not that he Wanted anyone trapped in a falling building, but ordinary people got Last Rites paid for, Someone got their ass chewed on and everybody was happy. But not Important people... Their clans needed Reasons, someone to pin the Blame on. And here was this Wandering Looney, who confessed to doing it. Doing What? Stubbing his foot on the cornerstone? This was 3 stories of Reinforced Concrete, with No signs of explosives - Gas or otherwise. No holes or rot or other reasons why it would have collapsed. It was on the books to be demolished next month, but there was no hurry... Not like it was Going anyplace.
But it did - All over Mr. Important. Except for his head that is... That was somehow intact, else they wouldn't have even known there Was someone under the rubble - That was mostly red smears on the chunks of concrete.
A cleaned-up, robe pressed, white male stood by a wolf who wanted to Howl in frustration! This... Elder Warrior had confessed to Somehow dumping an entire 3-story building onto a wealthy Businessmale - Who was also scum. The other lawyer didn't look any better. The judge was a gray-muzzle, who took a look at the charges, then at the fox who sat quietly - And had sat quietly since first giving his statements.
The Court Elder motioned the Defender and the Accuser up to his table. "If this is someone's idea of a joke, I am not laughing..." The males didn't quite tuck their tails between their legs. He growled softly, looking at the Healer's report.
The brands on the back of his hands were very old, probably done when he was a youth. Teeth were in good shape, no bruises, or contusions so he didn't fall in the rubble. Age? Between 50 and 500... Best guess - The blue eyes had seen at least 200 summers. Just Great! That meant he had been in at Least one Clan-war. There were still trouble-spots but nothing Global... And then there was his back. He said they were 'Discipline Marks'... 'Discipline' was getting your rump whacked or your ears chewed off... Those were Beating scars. At least bamboo didn't grow on this Continent, or he would be signing an Investigation report as well.
The Elder wolf tapped the papers in front of him. "So... According to this we have a Shelterless. Battle-Scarred. Ancient Elder of unknown age, but at Least a Century - Possibly Two. Who Says..." A breath. "That he, Quote; 'Lost his Temper and Dropped a building on one Mister Richhein.' Unquote. Not that I will mourn the loss of one piece of trash, but... According to the Clean-up crew they found his head intact. And the rest - 'Looked like a Giant had stepped on him like an over-ripe berry'... Mister Accuser, if you are going to be sick, I can call a recess."
The wolf looked a little pale but shook his head. He was regretting stepping on Berry-bugs as a cub, however. He looked even paler when the judge growled, "There is a bear-trap between our legs, Wolves... If we let him go, How long before he is picked up again? We can't Order him to be taken in - As one of the Scattered, every damn clan with a piece of hair that is even Remotely whitish would over-run us with petitions. If we toss him in jail, even if it is for his Own good, The Council will hand me my ass - After they shred my ears, rip my whiskers out, and pull every hair on my tail... And Then they will start on you two. That is If they don't just toss us out to the Public..."
Wouldn't the newsies love That - 'Scarred War-Hero shoved into Capture Pit by Uncaring Court.'
The Defender cleared his throat. "Elder, he.. He has a request. Six months in Solitary Confinement, preferably at the Start of his sentence."
The wolf looked at the male with the white as snow fur. "Solitary..." The fox stood, stepped to the side of the table.
"Yes, Honored Elder." Then the male put his hands together so the brands touched, and executed the best Court Bow this side of an Erian Opera. Better, because the fox did it as naturally as breathing. Worse, he held it, unmoving as a statue...
"Sit, Ancient One. Please... Can we offer you something? Water, tea?" A one-way pass to the other side of the 'Sovereign Nation of Canines' - Just to watch the King of Felines himself welcome the male into their tribe? The Council would hang his ass up by it's shorn tail!
The male unbent just as graciously as he bent. Then he stepped back, and sideways, sitting back in the chair.
"Water, if it is available, will suffice."
The three wolves in the Chamber stood with their jaws on the floor... The judge was too busy grinding his teeth. "When did the HylMong Royal House fall?"
The ChamberGuard thought a minute... "About 180 years ago - They killed off the Royal Family... Damn! Regular Servants wore House brands on their upper backs. Private Servants would have their Owner's brand on their thigh. The standard Army had their Clan names tattooed on their arms... Only the HouseGuard would have been given the privilege of wearing their clan names on their hands. Several of the Guards were captured and paraded before the People's Tribunals..."
It sounded about right - Branded during his Coming of Age Ceremony, Groomed since Birth to follow in his Father's footsteps as a HouseGuard. And then came the Revolution... He fought as best he could but a crack over the head and the teen was dragged off. Still full of pride and anger, he probably told the 'Tribunal' where to Stick it's Revolution. They in turn stuck the fox in a camp where he was beaten to within a hair of dying. Never allowed to, of course... Great stuff for drama vids. Bad for careers...
The judge tapped the papers, noticing the note again - Solitary... Who would want to be in - A Very Quiet Place. A Walled-In quiet place. Not to get out of... But so Others - Couldn't. Get. In! He quickly leafed through the reports, stopping at the First one again.
'Upon hearing the Elder's statement, I believed the fox had probably wandered away from whichever home he was residing in, and came to sit by this rubble pile, thinking he was still fighting one of the Clan Wars.'
"Recess 15 minutes... Guard," he growled soft and low. "I want you to get him whatever he wants - Food, drink... If he wants to play 'patty-pat' with your balls, you drop your pants and spread your legs." The Guard quickly moved to ask the fox if he needed anything... As a thought formed in his mind.
The Judge got the other 2 wolves closer to his table... "Now as for you two - Let's see if all those years with your noses in law-books did you any good.. Psyche Evaluations."
"Volume 7, Chapter 15." the Defender rattled off.
"My office, Third shelf. Get it." The wolf almost said 'fetch', so far was he into his lower brain. The male returned, and opened the book to the proper chapter, placing it in front of the Elder, who rapidly scanned the page, using his finger-claw as a guide. He flipped pages and read a little more...
"Chamber members, I refer you to the Guard's report, First paragraph. Doesn't this sound like a classic case of 'Delayed Shock' to you?"
The other two wolves nodded slowly... Then more quickly. "I think we can dispense with the 'Evaluation' - The Healer's report along with the evidence grants us the Leeway to make the Elder a Council-Ward. 5 years, with a yearly exam sound right? If he is healed, we can welcome him as the Hero he is. If he cracks... The Guards can sit in their Tower and wait until he tires himself out. Six months back in Solitary to clamp the lid on and another 5 years with yearly exams. Perhaps he will clean up that Vipers nest for us..."
Chapter 8 - An Informal Lunch
After talking to the fox some more, the Guard rapidly walked to the Judge's office, dialing a number he knew by heart. "Ankandin's Authentic..."
"Authentic heartburn..." The wolf snorted. "Anki, it's Jelm. I need some Real HylMong tea - Not that crap in a bag, either. And Lunch... Why? You keep chirping about how 'Good' your cooking skills are, here's your chance to use them... Alright, I will be nice and give you a clue - 'For the People had forgotten their promise to the Gods.' And I hope you haven't forgotten the Etiquette Lessons Master Shiyu taught us."
* * * *
The cheetah hung up the phone... Of course he hadn't forgotten. Afternoon tea, speaking a language dead for 200 years... Learning the Exacting movements - Where one's hand went, how to bend the leg while balancing platters and teajugs on one's arms. The Operas had them on permanent retainer - Which didn't hurt. So why did Jelm want Authentic, when he could get Everyday for cheaper... And why the riddl - The feline tore into his office, carefully unwrapping tapestry and scroll until he found the one he wanted...
< In the Sixth year of the reign of the Emperor who Sits Astride The Rainbow, the Sun wept in shame... For the People had forgotten their promise to the Gods. A tear fell from Heaven, destroying the Palace so None could defile it. >
- Kelrin, Clan of the Open Hand
A meteor Supposedly fell out of the sky and hit the Palace... None of the Astronomers of the day Saw it - But the half-mile deep crater was real enough. The Reij valley people still use the lake water both for irrigation and to turn water-wheel generators. Hmmmm - Mountain Clan, and Etiquette... What would a Clan member be doing in a Royal - His tail poofed.
"ShiMai! ShiMai! Drop everything and get your butts over here... Special order for the Council Judge. Authentic 14th Dynasty Informal Court Lunch for Five - On your toes, people... We may be serving someone who sat in that very court."
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then an explosion of fur, heat and iron pans. It was one thing to dress up and serve actors - Quite another to serve someone who could tell if any of the 73 different spices required had been ill-used. Waiters put up 'Closed' signs and started pressing uniforms, polishing platters... When everything was as good as they could make it, it all vanished behind woven grass mats, carefully stuffed into bamboo 'houses', and the entire parade made it's way to the Courts.
* * * *
The Council Guard said he ordered lunch, which was good. At least the wolf thought so until the assembly of clowns came through the doors... The troop circled the court 7 times for the 7 rays of the rainbow. Then they bowed to the Judge. The two wolves, whose noses were twitching like crazy. The Guard who, of course bowed back appropriately... And finally to the white male, who shamed them all with his grace. Just to see a true Court bow was enough to pay for the meal!
"An Informal Lunch, From the time of the Last Emperor... We hope you will find it worthy of your palate."
The fox waved a scarred hand. "Please... Informal means just that. There is no error or mistake that can not be overlooked - Except for throwing the bones on the floor." That got a good laugh. "The Elder should, of course be served first. Then the Honored Guests, and myself last."
The cheetah desperately swallowed a laugh... To praise and insult in the same breath - Whoever ate first also got Poisoned First, giving the others time to escape. The Judge watched as a mug of tea was placed on his table, followed by the most tantalizing bowl of soup he'd ever smelled. He took a sip, using the offered spoon - What he Wanted to do was upend the thing and glug it...
"Most Excellent..." he said, before attacking it like a starving feral. The lawyers also dug in with gusto, not noticing the Guard and the fox were waiting until at least half the bowls had been consumed. Then they ate, savoring each spoonful. When the wolves were done and trying Not to lick the bowls, the fox lifted his tea.
"To your continued good health..."
Of course the canines all drank the fragrant tea deeply, while the cheetah had to *Snerk* into a napkin, watching the white male wait - Then sip his own, turning the mug exactly one rotation in his palm.
The second course was barely a bite - But oh what a Bite! The third and fourth and fifth courses, all so Damn good it was hard not to lick one's finger-claws... The Judge had already written this off as an 'Expense', not caring how loudly the coin-counters howled... To jump from City Council to County Council only took skill, a little luck - And a Higher level male who would Love to have a Lunch like this.
< Were you really a Royal Guard? > the wolf sitting beside the white asked quietly. Both he and the cheetah had been trying out their verbal skills... It was one thing to learn from one whose GrandSire spoke a dialect - Quite another to be tutored by one whose Primary language was HylMong.
< Your accents are very good... If you promise not to tell the Honored Elder - I was on the War-Council. It was partially my bad-judgment that allowed the Empire to fall... Besides, Assassins do not make good Guards. >
That ratcheted the fox's age up by at least 40 years... Both the cheetah and the wolf denied the male's claim that he was responsible for what happened. People change their minds... They believe their neighbor's patch of grass is less thistle-filled then the one their own rump is sitting on.
< For the second time in my life, I allowed Anger to overwhelm me. I wished for the Sun's tear to fall... Death has walked beside me many times. Yet, like a fickle lover, has refused to take My hand. >
Again, the pair denied his words... " 'Despite fevered prayer and ill-tempered rant, the rain still falls where it wishes to.' You can't demand a rock fall from the sky, Elder. That is the Will of the Gods... Unless you believe you can..."
The fox laughed, and rubbed a knee. "No, Young Ones - I have been punished for The Sin of Pride many times already. Isn't that Right, Predictor of Storms..."
They clasped hands. "Please Elder - Return to us so we may continue to learn from your Wisdom."
"You mean Age... Very well - If Death does not answer his door when I knock, I will do my best to return and teach you the Ways of the HylMong Mountain Clans"
* * * *
The three wolves got Stuffed - 'There was only a little of This left... Surely you could find room for another of Those.' How did Anyone get any work done after such a Meal? And this was 'Informal'?
"Formal meals take several hours to do right, Honored Judge. Each Guest has a Personal Server who attends to their every need." Ye Gods - You would Waddle out of such a feast... But, oh how it would be worth it!
"Let's wrap this up - I feel a nap coming on... Sir, You are to be placed in the Lawaiem Reformatory, serving the first six months in Solitary Confinement, as you have Requested. Then, you may be placed in the General Populace. At the end of the year, you are to undergo an Evaluation. Should you pass, you will again be a free being. Should you Fail, you will be held another year. Is this acceptable?"
"Of course, Honored Elder."
Papers got signed and the white male was led off, the wolves retiring to their offices to fall asleep.
* * * *
"Why do you do this? Any Clan would gladly take you... Eeeep!"
The Guard stood a little straighter as his rump got squeezed.
< Assassins don't make very good bed-mates either. >
The wolf was given the fox's robe, exchanging it for a plain orange jumpsuit. "This will stay in a Place of Honor until you return for it... And Elder - Warriors may be Assassins, but Assassins can never be Warriors... Has to do with a little matter of Loyalties, Right?"
Chapter 9 - You Don't Mess With Crazy
And so they bundled him off, stuck him on a bus and away he went to the 'Big House'. The usual rowdiness went quiet when one of the nastier males snarled, "So... What did they get You on Pops? Crapping on the sidewalk?"
The white male didn't even open his eyes. "I lost my temper and dropped a building on a fool. The Council was gracious enough to place me in Solitary so I can enjoy the Silence once again." He then proceeded to undo his arm-shackles, his leg-shackles, his manacles, and his collar, piling them up with the chain at his feet.
"I had forgotten what being bound felt like... At least we head for someplace Nice, not a mud-hut or a stone cell..." The jaguar with the scar running across his face, peered down into the back of the male's shirt - Then straightened up and was very quiet for the rest of the ride. He had been shot, bitten, clawed, knifed, even raped... But Nobody had ripped him up like That! Polite, didn't like manacles, and somebody had been using his back for a drum...
Clan-War Survivor. You Heard of such males, but to actually be sitting beside one - An unstable bomb would be better company!
"My manners have left me completely... Would you like your shackles off as well?"
No Thank You! While he was bound, he was 'Friend'. The fox had a hundred pounds of steel chain, cuffs and bars. All the Guards had were a couple of guns... And when they stopped, no one said a word about him putting it back on - The sooner this one was out of Their hands, the better! They left him to the tender care of the Guards who quirked an eyebrow, but dutifully escorted him to a door, took his clothes and put him inside. And only when the door was locked, bolted - If there had been a place for chains, They would have been snugged tight, did the wolves breathe easier.
There was a steel toilet and sink, a shelf made of concrete, and a window barely wide enough to put your arm through. Three times a day, a plastic tray slid through a gap in the door. He ate everything, no matter what it was, then placed it back in the gap when he was done. About a week into his confinement, the fox noticed a pair of eyes watching him from a hole in the wall. The next time he got his food, he broke off a piece of bread and placed it on the floor. A fieldmouse raced out, snagged the bread and raced back to the hole. Tail and all, it would fit in the palm of his hand, and from the thinness of the belly, it had not had much to eat. The next mealtime, he put a small palmful of rice on the floor. The mouse again scurried out, but this time it had to stay and stuff it's cheeks until it looked like it had the mumps. And it barely fit through the hole in the wall, making the fox laugh quietly.
It took a while, but eventually the mouse stayed out of it's hole more than it stayed in. The first time he touched it, the mouse *squeaked*, did a full back-flip with a half-twist and flew back into it's hole. But soon enough, it enjoyed having it's ears rubbed, it's body tickled by a blunt finger-claw. And it especially enjoyed nestling in the fluffy white tail, which was Much warmer than the concrete wall. It also harvested several loose hairs that it took back to it's 'nest'. It was a special joy for the fox to pour some water into his palm and have the little creature drink from his scarred hand.
Sadly, Fieldmice don't have very long lifespans to begin with, and it is usually shortened by predators or disease... One day, the mouse didn't come out to greet the fox. Nor did it respond to a tap on it's hole. He sighed, and ate the ration he reserved for his friend in remembrance.
The time passed quickly, and one day the Guards came to let him out... And he thanked them politely. Hmmmpf! Better pass the word, a Nut-Case was getting out...
* Unwritten Rule Number 1: You Don't Mess With Crazy. *
Crazy came in two types, Stable and BatShit. And Stable only meant they hadn't gone BatShit... Yet. You could bargain with Stable - BatShit you tranked, stuffed in a sleeveless robe and sent to the Nut-Job wing.
The early tribes revered bat droppings for it's many uses... It made great fertilizer, and fire-starter. It was easy to gather - Go on a cave, scoop it up, get out before you passed out. Except, some came out covered ear-tips to toes in it... Usually singing some stupid thing or another - And Always doing crazy things for days afterwords. They called it 'Touched By The Gods'. Modern-day furs just said 'BatShit Insane'. And it was understandable, when people did things like...
* * * *
Morki believed his sheet was alive, and trying to kill him in his sleep. He would get a fresh one in the morning, put it on his bed, and he was fine. A few minutes before the doors locked, he would rip the sheet to shreds, stuff them into a pillowcase and toss the cloth out just as the doors closed...
"Hah! Can't get me Now!"
This went on for a couple of days until a Guard took him out to the Outdoor Recreation Area, to watch the execution of a sheet. Four Guards pulled their pistols and shot the cloth. Guard First walked over, unpinned the sheet and let it fall to the ground. He kicked it, shook it vigorously.
"This sheet is officially dead."
Morki was very happy to have the 'dead' sheet to put on his bed. Of course they couldn't keep shooting holes in sheets, so one day Morki found a new sheet on his bed. The Guard didn't even blink an eye. He handed the feline his 'Stick'.
"Beat it. Show that sheet who's Boss..." And Morki beat on the sheet until he could barely lift his arm. The Guard jabbed the bed with a boot. "Yep, it's dead."
After that, the feline got a new sheet once a week, put it on his bed, and when a Guard came by, beat the crap out of it.
* * * *
Jeqa was found with the head of his latest victim in his lap. He gave the Guards no trouble, coming quietly. He was also disgusted when the Healer suggested he might be 'using' the heads for - Ugh! No Way! He just needed someone to talk to. To hold at night. At first he had his Mother's head... But it fell apart. So he got another one... And another. They all had the same problem - The hair fell out. And, what good was a head without hair? So he buried the heads with their bodies, very neatly. None of them ever suffered, the raccoon broke their necks first. So, they gave him a mannequin head. They even let him pick out a couple of wigs for it... He was a very happy Crazy... Until someone took it.
They found out when a feline came flying at the Morning Guard, hugging his leg, sobbing like the devil himself was chewing on the lad's ass. They got him settled with a cup of coffee and a good dose of tranq. "I... I awoke 'cause I could feel someone was a'looking at me. And there was this - Raccoon. I ain't never seen such eyes afore... Black pools filled with a longing, like ta break your heart. And then he reaches down and starts stroking my face! I am hoping he wants a muzzle-job... That I can take. But all he does is Stare at me and stroke my face... Then in a dead voice he says, 'You have a nice head.' Lawdsy! Then I knew - It's dat Crazy Coon, a'lookin for his head."
"I was gonna tells him, He can has my muzzle. He can has my ass... But I kinda needs my head. Then he sighs, and looks at me kinda sideways - 'But your hair is wrong.' I truly don't know iffn I should be relieved or disappointed... 'You... Sure you don't wanna -' He just... Smiles. 'Another time, perhaps. You really do have a nice head.' And he runs those fingers over the back of my neck - And I knows he is gonna kill me! I just knows it... But he just turns and walks through the door. I know they is locked and all that, but I tell you he walked through it! Ya gotta help me... I don't Know who took his head - Alls I know is I wanna keep mine!"
So the Guards let it be known that unless a certain body part didn't re-appear, that evening the doors might malfunction - And Jeqa could find a replacement for himself. Not half an hour later, the mannequin head appeared on the Rec area table, with it's hair done up very nicely. Jeqa was happy. The inmates were happy - The only one Not happy was some guy who managed to break both hands in the Machine Shop - At least that is what He says happened... Better broken hands than a missing head!
End of Part 1