Of Truth and Beasts

The Fay couldn’t enter First Glade. They were afraid now, and Wynn knew it was the truth they feared more than any lie.

“Look at them,” she told Vreuvillä, pointing to the silver-gray female, as even the brown male stood in tense watchfulness. “They want to know.... Don’t you?”

“Know what?”

“Ask them,” Wynn answered.

The female came nose to nose with Shade. Even as Shade snarled, the female thrust her head forward. Shade’s spittle spread across silver-gray fur as they slid muzzle against muzzle.

Shade instantly quieted.

Her hackles began to settle, though the mottled brown male stood a half length behind the female, ready to lunge. These two of the pack, or at least the female, wanted to know why one of their own, foreign and strange as Shade was, had turned against them for a human.

Shade would tell them, and Wynn could only imagine the flurry of memory-speak.

Whether it was her own remembrance or that of Shade’s mother, Lily, Shade among all majay-hì was more gifted at passing on the memories of others. The silver-gray female would see that one dark night, halfway across the world.

In a clearing within the an’Cróan’s forest, Chap had gone to commune with his kin and learn why they’d left Leesil’s mother to suffer in isolation. He learned something more, as well. When he’d chosen to be born into flesh as a majay-hì pup, he was fully aware of the task that lay ahead in his life. But he was not aware of everything he should’ve been.

His kin had stolen most of his memories from his time among them.

There were secrets the Fay kept from him in his newly taken form, his new life. Even now, like Chap, Wynn wondered what he was missing. When he had denounced them for this, they had caught Wynn unintentionally listening in.

If not for Chap, or more especially Lily, a true majay-hì, Wynn would’ve died that night.

Lily’s faith in Chap made her dive in to defend a human, and her pack had followed. But the Fay hadn’t relented. They turned upon the majay-hì who tried to help. The Fay invaded through a large downed tree, making its roots and branches lash at Lily’s pack.

They killed a majay-hì that night—without hesitation—in their attempt to kill Wynn.

All of this must’ve passed from Shade to the silver-gray female in less than three blinks. The female wheeled, rushing back around Vreuvillä’s legs. The mottled brown male joined them as Vreuvillä crouched down and lowered her head.

As both of the priestess’s companions nuzzled her face, Wynn heard the torrent in the trees whip to a frenzy. It was so suddenly violent that it pulled her attention from the trio.

“What is happening?” Ore-Locks called out, turning every which way.

Shade backed up until her rump hit Wynn’s legs. She was trembling as she looked about. As the wind shook the trees, Wynn thought she saw something move among them.

It was only a glimpse ... a large form that walked just beyond the closest thrashing trees at the clearing’s edge. Or, rather, Wynn thought she saw branches bend and spring back in something’s passing. What it was, she couldn’t tell, for it was little more than a darker shadow. Something made of whirling wind, swirling leaves, and mulch torn from the earth stalked through the forest.

Again, Wynn wanted to look to Chârmun, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the forest.

“Aovar?”

Vreuvillä cried out that one root word in her tongue. It meant “reason,” or even “cause” or “impetus,” but her anguished inflection made it something else.

“Why?” the priestess shouted again.

Standing upright between her companions, she glared into the trees. Her tan cheeks glistened with smeared tears. The silver-gray female and mottled brown male raced out among their pack. Brief touches of heads and muzzles passed quickly among them.

Because that thing listens! She steals ... our hope, our knowing ... that which no mortal should have, more so a tainted one!

Again, Wynn heard those words in her mind.

“Answer me,” Vreuvillä returned, her voice growing raw. “Why did you kill one of your children?”

The wind quieted only a little and a long pause followed.

Regretful ... tragic ... necessary.

Wynn had no pity for their regret.

With tears flooding, Vreuvillä shrieked at the immense shadow beyond the trees like some animal too enraged for the power of speech. When she regained her voice, Wynn followed her strange dialect more easily.

“Your descendant of flesh, a majay-hì, guards this Numan woman ... even against its own kind! You killed one of them to get to her? Would you do so again, here and now?”

She is a tainted piece of Existence, too twisted and dangerous.

“You gave birth to Existence, no matter the form of its parts!” Vreuvillä snarled back. “Is this now what you make of the bond that I serve ... that all Foirfeahkan have nurtured for ages?”