Inevitably, he flew Northwest. It was unavoidable, he supposed, to confront the nexus of his queasy discomfort, the very eye of the storm which had thrown a dark pall over his entire life and existence. Anyway, T’oma the Hermit was wise, and would know what to do. He always did.

So, as Autumn drew to a close and the first winter snows began in the high passes above the Hermit’s house, Ja’kh’redd trudged up the little path once again as meekly as a djiddu, his heart pounding faster than a rabbit’s. He sweated, he feared, and he knew not why. It was a serious sickness, one that had ruined everything, and utterly confused the big male Vidos.

Thomas dropped his axe when he saw Jared round the last bend, and come into sight of the cabin. His jaw followed.

“JARED! What in… what… by Bri-Abal, what are you doing here?” he shouted, disturbed and shocked. “Did you lose the village?”

“No,” he sighed, walking through the crisp fallen leaves, which caught on his toe-claws. He stopped to kick them off in annoyance, and continued, feeling sour. “No, I won the village. But there is something very wrong, T’oma. I cannot mate.”

“Cannot… Oh by the God…” Thomas rubbed his hand over his face, feeling as if this wasn’t his year. First the girl, sighing every three minutes and wondering constantly about Jared, and now Jared returning, looking as if his best friend had died. He really didn’t need this, especially if his suspicions about Sarai were true. Especially then, by the God.

“Go home! Turn around right now, go back to your village, just winter it out there, you’ll be fine…” In the middle of his quick encouragement, the inevitable happened. Sarai heard Jared’s subsonic rumble from inside, threw down the book she was struggling to learn to read, leapt to her feet, and wincingly limped to the door to throw it open and stare, confounded.

“Jared!” She gasped.

The Vidos turned as if he’d been slapped by an ogre, to look at her.

“I really don’t need this. God, this really isn’t fair,” the hermit whimpered, desperately groping for anything that would stop this, any kind of wisdom that would crush this folly, the inevitable dismay to Nature that absolutely Must Not Happen.

But as he watched, helplessly from the side, it all seemed inescapable. It was not in his hands, and he very well knew it. Thomas could only stand by uselessly as Jared perked up visibly, smiled a little, and went for Sarai as if to kneel at her feet. The hermit rolled his eyes, and slapped his hand over his eyes, wondering what good it was to be a Hermit, if all the biggest problems in the universe had to come knocking on his doorway and living in his living room for two months, and now it looked, much longer.

“Kitten!” Jared said happily in his tongue, drifting to Sarai with the most wonderful feeling. It was as if the dark gray pall had just gone away, replaced by a happy sparkly white cloud upon which he now drifted without actually touching the ground.

She very nearly forgot herself to jump up and down like a child, but restrained. This was an older more wary Sarai than the little girl he’d rescued, and one with a very sore side. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, in a very Womanly voice of disapproval.

“Thank God,” Thomas mouthed, really and fervently praying that the girl would get some sense, and scare the male Vidos off.

“I… I…” Jared stammered, understanding her question perfectly without knowing her language. It was in her eyes. He turned to Thomas and entreated, “Please, tell her that I… I…” but he could think of no good excuse. He pulled on his horn, he scratched at his neck, he turned and paced, then finally said, “I came for help. I cannot find pleasure in my females, I cannot mate with them.”

Rueful and amused despite himself, Thomas translated that word for word.

Sarai blinked about four times in rapid succession, shocked, and stepped back. “Oh. Um. Why not?”

“They sicken me to look at them,” he said flatly.

Sarai stared at the porch floor, trying to use pure logic, be reasonable, and come up with some kind of solution, as women always thought they could. “What is sickening about them?”

“The way they… they…” he made faces. “The way they…” But this too was difficult, for they truly were lovely females, attractive and graceful, with long waving tails and slender necks. There was no reason not to want them. “I don’t know. I look at them, and I feel sick. I even want to mate, I feel the fire in my loins, I feel the fire in my blood, I turn to look, and then I feel sick. No matter how much the fire burns, no matter how hot the blood, the stomach is sick.”

“Eat some bandabas leaves!” Thomas blurted out in frustration. “Then you will vomit and feel better!”

He shook his head, pacing. “It’s not that sort of illness. They are disgusting. They make my heart disgusted, as if I am contemplating mating my… mother or something.” He shrugged, unable to entirely explain. “Not like that. But… it’s like… my body doesn’t… no, my body does want them. But the rest of me does not.”

“The rest of you?” Thomas cracked, unable to stop himself. “The rest of what? I thought all Vidos were merely one big body.”

Sarai was vibrating, worrying her hands together under her chin. She’d wanted to leap onto him from the moment she saw him, but had forced herself with womanly pragmatism to refrain with disapproval. Now, the urge was building pressure, like a steam boiler heading for an explosion. How her arms ached to touch that soft, Vidos leather skin, feel the profound solidity of him like strength incarnated. She’d missed her angel so much, especially with her only companionship being the grouchy old prickly hermit who liked to spend all day alone.

“I feel better here,” Jared admitted, looking around at the trees. He felt comfortable now, as if he was where he belonged. He wanted to look at kitten, but purposefully didn’t. He stared at tree-leaves, the clothes-line, the tanning racks.

The moment dragged on. And on.

Thomas sighed. It was up to him to send the boy away. “Ja’kh’redd,” he said gravely in the Vidos tongue, “no matter what odd things you feel, you belong not here. We are Men, this is a Man-house. Sarai is a Man-female. You cannot feel the Ashsia for a Man-female.”

“What?” Ja’kh’redd spun around, fascinated by the unknown word. “What was that? I have never heard that word before.”

“Not surprising. It is an ancient Vidos word, from the days of Bri-pan.”

Ja’kh’redd was properly impressed with the old doctor’s knowledge, which always bordered just on the verge of the supernatural in his mind. “What means this word?”

“Now that is difficult to explain. Ashia. Hmm.” Thomas rubbed his stubble. “It means to give oneself wholly to another, body, soul, mind, will. To give oneself for another’s happiness, I suppose.”

Ja’kh’redd’s heart thrilled at the thought, gazing at Sarai. She gazed back in wonder, knowing nothing of their speech, yet the two could communicate with the language of the eyes.

“But you cannot do this with a Man-female, since… since… your souls are different!” He surmised. “Man and Vidos are not the same. Vidos think of hunting and war, Men…”

“Men do not?” Ja’kh’redd cut him off sharply, his stern brow taking a lowered glower to glance at the male human.

At that point, Thomas grew frustrated. It was not in him to get between idiots and their problems, trying to stave off the inevitable dismay fools brought upon themselves. “Fine. If you won’t listen to reason, then let your actions be upon your own head!” He shouldered his axe with that curse, and just walked away. There was nothing that could be done from this point on, except go talk to God, which was what he was going off to do. He vanished into the woods on his mission, and left them to just get it over with.

As soon as Thomas was gone, it was as if a weight lifted between them. Shyly Jared glanced at Sarai, and she smiled a little. Easily, as simply as breathing, he took two strides to the porch and lifted her right off of it, and immediately forgot Koja’so, forgot the Village, forgot the Cheifdom, the cave, the females, and even Yisa. It was all vanished. He simply embraced her, gently, laying his angular head down next to hers, and felt her hug him back.

Previous —– Next

Autumn wore into winter, and Koja’so became the happy male slave of the little female he’d found, who was named Yisa. She was, as Ja’kh’redd had predicted, one of those hot-headed young females who thought far too often, and let it all leak out of her mouth. Then again, so did Koja’so, so many nights for them were spent yapping in their little, humble cave in the canyon-wall (on the heated sand side, for she’d begun to grow eggs, to Koja’so’s eternal pride and delight) about whatever Yisa had thought up for the day, ranging from how a Village should be run, to what kind of food was healthy for younglings. Koja’so ate it up, glowing with delight all day.

It left Ja’kh’redd in a strange, dark gray cloud somewhere before his eyes, a haze over everything he saw or felt, to watch Koja’so be so happy with his humbleness, while Ja’kh’redd had the entire Village, and yet had nothing at all. By now, the rumor was all over the nearby Villages, and spreading onward from there, that the new Chief of Cho’ghra could not mate his females, and didn’t even try to rectify the situation week after week.

Koja finally visited him in the Chief’s hole at the top of the Great Cave, sat down in his warm volcanically-heated sand with him, chewed on bones dipped in human-purchased beer (a luxury), and demanded to know what on earth was wrong with him.

“Mating females is… is… is the best thing I can think of!” Koja’so spluttered, for once knowing what he was talking about. “You really have to try it! You have two of the prettiest females in the entire Tribe, old Tuss’tan saw to that. So what is the problem? Just go in there and…” he made a variety of strange and embarrassed expressions, “… the females know what to do. Just go… do it.”

“I’m going on a Hunting trip,” he said quietly. He stared at the ground, without any heart, while his two females sat in the back of the cave and listened discreetly, just as baffled as Koja’so was. Ja’kh’redd was a very strong, handsome, virile young Vidos they’d both approved of for years, so neither of them were sorry at all that he’d won the cave. Everyone knew they’d both love to get his attention, and make his cave a very comfortable place. The only problem was that he refused to accept their offers, no matter how gently or how firmly they were made.

“You have a great sickness inside,” Koja finally said quietly, in sorrow. Everyone knew it, and it depressed the mood of the entire Village, even old Tuss’tan who’d lost. They all liked Ja’kh’redd, for they’d liked his father, who had been a good and wise Chief in the previous generation. The only one who was happy about Ja’kh’redd’s moodiness was Uri’ako, whom nobody liked anyway.

“I know,” Ja’kh’redd said quietly. “I… I am sorry.”

The females stared. They’d never heard a male apologize in their lives. They looked at one another blankly.

“Ju-root,” one female whispered to the other. Impotence was not often found among the Vidos, especially in one so young, but it was not entirely unheard-of, and females had their own cures for things. The other smiled smugly, determined to try the potent cure at first opportunity.

“I have great affection for the Village,” he said roughly, for there was no true word in the Vidos Tongue for ‘love.’ “I want nothing more than to remain here as Chief, and perform my every obligation.”

Koja’so fell silent, sensing to his wonder that Ja’kh’redd was baring his true soul.

“Every rock, every Vidos here are my family. The females are my sisters, the males are brothers, even Uri’ako.”

Koja snorted, disbelieving that.

Ja’kh’redd paused, feeling tears coming, yet it was unpardonable for a full-grown Vidos to loose them. After a moment, he went on. “But my heart is not happy. There is something that I left far away which I feel… is…” he struggled with the truth of it, knowing that it should be impossible, “… part of me. It is like my soul is rent in half within. What kind of a Chief am I, whose very soul within him has lost all strength? I must return to the thing I left behind, if only to confront it. Perhaps when I challenge the thing, I will be able to win back my soul, and return here full of joy.”

“This is very strange, Ja’kh’redd,” Koja informed him warily.

“Even stranger is it to me, than to you, little friend,” Ja’kh’redd admitted quietly. “I am leaving Tuss’tan in charge again until I am back.”

“How long will you be gone?” Koja’so said in surprise.

He hesitated, wondering that himself. “I don’t know, until the sickness is gone… I apologize,” the word in their language was rare and not often used, “for everything that has caused discomfort here. I know what I should have been, and should have done.” He stood up, went to the back of the cave, and spoke directly to the females. “I apologize to you for disappointing you. When I come back, I am sure that I will be healed.”

“You need ju-root,” one suggested meekly. “It will make the urge strong enough.”

He tried to smile, but only one ear came forward a little. “Perhaps. When I return, I shall try it. I shall be gone for a month or… or more.”

“A real Hunt then? For ver’ka?” Koja’so asked weakly.

Ja’kh’redd didn’t answer, feeling shame and sorrow, collecting his hunting harness, his weapons, his new súweh the Village had given him as new Chief. After the Mating was over, he’d received many gifts from his people as they tried to cheer him up.

The females and Koja’so watched him collect his things, go to the entrance to his big, spacious new cave, and take off into the sky leaving it all behind. Koja’so just looked at the females, who looked, bewildered back at him. The village would run, life would continue, Tuss’tan would act as Chief, but everyone in Cho’ghra would check the skies every day to see when their new Chief would return well and boisterous, like his old self again, and take his honored position with joy.

Previous —– Next

“I did not mate,” Ja’kh’redd confided in Koja’so, as they Hunted out in the wilderness, two days after the Week had ended for all the females. Everything had immediately resumed as before the Week, females coming and going as they pleased, visiting one another in their caves, the males ignoring any female but their own for another year. As violent as the last week had been, this week was equally peaceful.

“WHAT?” the small Vidos gasped, shocked literally out of the air, as he fell onto the grassy plain. Ja’kh’redd followed him down, landing like a hunting hawk over his kill.

“I did not mate,” he repeated to his friend. “I could not mate.”

“WHAT??” Koja’so repeated, springing to his legs like a pop-up toy, to firmly grasp the New Chief’s leather loin-wrap, and pull it sharply forward, to look inside. “No, you still have those…” He let it slap back into place, glaring up at his friend. “What is WRONG with you? Why couldn’t you mate? Do you not realize you won’t have eggs in the spring? They will call you infertile!” He was aghast. “A powerful Chief must have many eggs his first year!”

“I know!” Ja’kh’redd yelled, angry at the obvious. He grabbed his horns and pulled, walking away from Koja’so in frustration. “I know! I know! I know! I know! I just couldn’t! I couldn’t stand the sight of them, I couldn’t stand the smell… nothing!”

“The smell? But… but…” Koja was totally baffled. “But the Mating smell of females is the smell of Heaven! What do you want? What more could you ask for, Bri-pan Herself, the White Vidos, or isn’t a regular female good enough for you? Much less two??”

“Don’t lecture me, Koja!” He bellowed.

Koja’so became contrite and unhappy in his bewilderment, staring at the waving grasses around his knees. The wind hissed like a thousand snakes, shifting through the dead stalks as Autumn arrived firmly, and thunderheads began to form on the horizon. They would only have a few good days of Hunting before the females demanded their new mates, and the rains began. Where they were, in the South of Mohmast, the rains would only last a few days here and there, so they had more hunting time than other tribes. They counted themselves fortunate to be able to get away from the women more often. It was a strange irony; a young Vidos spent the first half of his life scheming of ways to get a female, and then once he got one, scheming of ways to get away from her.

Ja’kh’redd stalked back, his heart in a rushing of feelings and logic, which swirled together like a noisy river and made him speak too fast with too much force. “I think it has to do with my… with kitten.”

“That human cub you saved?” Koja’so grimaced, for it had always been his opinion that nothing good could ever come of having saved a human cub. Humans totally misunderstood and hated Vidos, and his action in Koja’s opinion could only lead to more trouble and misunderstanding than ever. He was, in the end, partially right. “I’d regurgitate my own horns to be able to mate, just once! What by Bri-Abal could that human cub have possibly done to effect you so disastrously?”

Ja’kh’redd was stopped by those words, and simply stared out over the plain, knowing the answer. He seemed to lose time and place, reaching out one hand blindly as he remembered little soft arms around his neck, an embrace so sweet, it had stopped him even from Mating, to his absolute disbelief. His gut seemed to drop out from beneath him at the thought, and he just stood, and stood, and stood, silently staring with an absolutely lost look on his strong Vidos face.

“They must not see this weakness…” Koja’so was afraid, pulling on his pointed Vidos ears. “The females will gossip, they will already have spread it around… no, Ja’kh’redd, this is NOT good. You must go back to your cave at once and mate, perhaps the Mating isn’t…”

They both stopped, smelling a very distinct musk on the breeze. They turned, Koja’s instructions forgotten.

Staring at them in surprise, a lone female stood on the plains near a large copse of trees, a rabbit dangling limply from one claw. She was still in the Heat, from another Village whose Mating Week had been at a slightly different time.

“Well,” Ja’kh’redd said in surprise, then stopped to stare. What was a lone female doing outside of the caves in Mating Week, and so close to Cho’ghra village?

After the initial moment of surprise, the young female remembered herself, put back her ears, hunched her spine a little, and hissed viciously to warn them off. A shrew then, who didn’t want to mate at all. Usually very young females would refused to mate for several years until they were ready.

“From the looks of her, she’s hiding from the Mating,” Ja’kh’redd said in amazement. But they were just near enough that she could make out what he’d said.

“YES!” She shouted back, voice thin and distant, and angry. “I refuse to Mate!” She snarled. “I will not mate any male!” But instead of running, she just stood there, glaring, with her rabbit.

Ja’kh’redd rolled his eyes and turned, and walked away without a second glance. She was no temptation to him at all.

For Koja’so, it was much more difficult. With the fury of the Mating Week still in his veins, and the scent of a female on the breeze, he had to tear his claws out of the ground to move. He looked at her, looked at his friend, looked back at her longingly, then with all of his might, forced himself away from her to follow him. He loved his friend more than just mating. “Ja’kh’redd, you must go at once back to your cave before the others notice…”

“Why are you walking away?” she yelled, far away, amazed. She’d never seen males turn their back on a female in Heat in her entire life, used to the brutish fury of the Vidos, and despising it from her youth. She was so astonished, and amazed, that she actually took several loping strides toward them, leaving the rabbit where she’d stood. She could come back for it, but this behavior was too odd to ignore.

Ja’kh’redd didn’t answer her, but kept walking, picking up speed. Since the fight with the Chief, it hurt him to fly very far, so they were doing their Hunting near the canyon. This also avoided being attacked by the males of other Villages, whose Mating was still winding down.

Koja’so glanced back, so amazed at being near an unmated female that he could barely think, but again he managed to walk after Ja’kh’redd. “I don’t know where this loyalty comes from,” he muttered to himself, watching the bigger Vidos’s back. “I should be chasing her, and instead I am chasing you.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“It comes from me having slapped the horns off of Uri’ako on your behalf about six times,” Ja’kh’redd snorted with a laugh.

“That must be it…”

“HEY!”

She was mad this time.

Ja’kh’redd turned, and so did Koja’so.

“WHAT!” Ja’kh’redd roared back, in no mood to fool with her.

“How can you walk away from a female during Mating?” She demanded, coming slowly nearer to them, amazed and delighted. She’d never seen males like this before. “Are you both all mated out? Have no more use for females?” She laughed, finding her teasing funny.

Koja’so was almost drooling. He breathed quickly, watching her approach, his wings twitching.

“If you want to go, go,” Ja’kh’redd muttered out of the side of his mouth. “And maybe…” he smiled a little, “…later, I’ll teach you something to show her, that will make her fight away any male that tried to get her.”

“What?” He asked in awe, his eyes fixed on her.

“It’s called … a hug,” Ja’kh’redd whispered.

“Huuug,” he repeated stupidly, sniffing the breeze as she came within a short hop and flight of them both. He was sweating, and shaking, it was obvious that her presence had totally overwhelmed him. But to Ja’kh’redd’s sorrow, he himself was not effected in the way he wished. Surely, he felt the need for a female at the scent of her… surely, he felt the heat of the Mating in his blood, the desire to perform it. But when he turned and looked at her, the sickness in his gut cut off all will, and made his wings feel too weak to fly.

“Female,” Ja’kh’redd addressed her, feeling unusually civilized. Perhaps it was kitten’s influence. “If you do not turn back and leave, my younger friend will become foolish. If you wish not to mate this year, turn and go.”

She startled, realizing what she was doing, and backed up a little bit. Koja’so, to his credit, remained frozen, and didn’t even try to go for her.

Then she realized further that she liked these two males, who had not tried to force themselves on her, and she felt herself pleased with them. “Perhaps I wish to… to…” she said hesitantly, with a touch of sauce, looking Koja’so up and down. “Perhaps I am not afraid of you.”

“Males only have so much control,” Ja’kh’redd warned disapprovingly. “If you truly do not wish to mate, you are making it very hard on my friend here. Go away.”

She glared and pouted, then turned and left. But halfway to her rabbit, she paused, and turned back. She did want to mate, she realized. But not with the idiots from her village, not when forced, not without choice. The big one was very handsome, but obviously not interested. The little one, though scarred, was… cute. She smiled at him, and lifted her chin to him, then picked up her rabbit and walked with a wiggle of her tail into the copse of trees.

“OH BY THE SUN!” Koja’so howled, dissembling into a heap on the ground, which rolled around and then sprang back to full height, almost bouncing on his toes. “Did you SEE That? Was she inviting us?”

“Not us, you. Go.” He gave his friend a little push. “This is the kind who likes to talk too much, you two should be a perfect match.”

Without any further thought, Koja’so was off like a shot, flapping wildly to the copse of trees, and sneaking gingerly in. Ja’kh’redd had to smile as he waited, counting down the seconds, until within ten, the first female yowl of flirtatious displeasure at his supposedly un-asked-for presence came from what sounded like a little hidden cave somewhere in that grouping of foliage. After that was a yip of delight, and the full end of her protestations.

Taking a deep breath, and looking around at the sky, Ja’kh’redd did his friend one last service. He walked halfway to the copse and sat down, and as growls and various sounds of interest came muffled from somewhere within the trees, he carved himself a new wooden súwah, and guarded the cave. After all, little Koja’so was too small to defend his own female. At leat Ja’kh’redd could give him one year of being mated, if he couldn’t give himself happiness.

Previous —– Next

“Wake up,” Koja’so growled, slapping his cheek.

Ja’kh’redd growled at the little Vidos, coming to himself and glaring. He sat brooding on the top of the cliffs, crouched over like a gargoyle on the sandstone ridges above the living-caves, eyes unfocused as he stared into the distance thinking of kitten. It was a hot, bright blue day and the desert wind was warm and brisk. He should feel energized and alive, but he felt strangely dour. He’d felt grumpy for a week.

“Where are you? Out Hunting in your head? Look you idiot, the Mating!”

Ja’kh’redd looked down from his perch at the top of the Village Ravine, and saw the Chief come to the door of his cave. The aging Vidos spread his legs into a solid, ready stance, and looked out slowly at all of them, from one male to another, until his eyes came to rest on Ja’kh’redd. There they remained, a steady yellow glare, for Ja’kh’redd was the son of the former Chief, and everyone knew Ja’kh’redd had it in him to take the position back for his family.

In the Caves of the Elders, carved into the inside walls of the Great Cave where they were most defensible, every young male could hear the keening and howling of the females as the time of Mating took them all at once. This morning at dawn it had grown urgent, and they all knew it would begin, as soon as the Chief came to his door.

“Go! Before…”

It was too late. Uri’ako with three of his goons lit from his perch and flew toward the Chief. As if it were a signal, all of the young males broke and flew toward that cave that they believed they had a good shot at. Some of the more ambitious went up, some went down to the lesser caves, and every male who had females stood in the door of his cave prepared to defend his home.

“Why are you slow?!?” Koja’so howled in fury, the emotions of the Mating Time stirring him beyond rationality also. “Take the Village, idiot!” With one great heave, which was stronger than Ja’kh’redd thought he had in him, Koja’so shoved his large friend from the perch into the air, then leapt himself for the lowest cave, where the youngest females were kept, the same caves he’d tried for for three years.

Literally shoved into motion, Ja’kh’redd pulled his mind together, and flew determinedly for the Chief’s cave. Already, the older Vidos was engaged with Uri’ako, so Ja’kh’redd drew back to the side, to let them tussle. It was dishonorable to meet a Vidos in combat during Mating Time unless it was one-on-one.

This was not the playful scufflings of boyhood, but their most serious time.

The battle was fierce, and Uri’ako was strong, but stupid and mean. He quickly lost control of his temper, and was thrown from the Cave, followed by a great draconic hiss from its owner.

Ja’kh’redd immediately leapt in, smelling the musk of the Heated females, which only made him more wild. He tried to keep his head, but he’d never mated before, a great disadvantage to maintaining a clear mind for the fight.

Even so, Ja’kh’redd was an excellent fighter like his father had been before him. The old Chief knew this, and fought like a mother lion, roaring and hissing abundantly as they wrestled, biting, slapping at one another with wings, then suddenly collapsing into fists, claws, and biting. The row was vicious and remarkably loud, the females all voicing their angst and frustration to top it all off.

In all of the other caves, the others were doing the same thing. Over all of Vidos-land, the Mating was beginning; here a day later, here two days earlier, but by the end of the month, a new rank structure would be established from the Northsea to the deserts of Mohmast.

Ja’kh’redd was thrown down three times, but each time, he felt the old Chief wearying. The old Vidos had ruled well and long, as Vidos rule; with a loud voice, a great booming laugh, and much abuse to the younger males. Even so, he’d been a good Chief, and they all agreed that he’d remain a good Advisor, with or without females of his own.

As the day passed to a dusty cobalt twilight, then night, then to day, all order was forgotten for the Week of Mating, which became temporarily it’s own space and time. Anarchy ruled. Females mated whatever they could find, unless they were shrewish, in which case even the females pummeled prospective males and threw them out of their own cave. All was delightful, delicious chaos, every young male devising scheme after scheme to get into a cave and somehow father some eggs, even if another male ended up hatching them.

Early in the third day, after foolish brutish Uri’ako had tried for the Chief’s cave eight times and failed, Ja’kh’redd had finally gotten into the spirit of the season and was ready for his final assault. After the third or fourth day of all-out war the mating was basically established, and only a couple more days of crabby females and hissing off intruders would occur, until the females came out of Heat, and the Village re-organized itself for the new year.

Thus for Ja’kh’redd, it was really now or never. So far, the old Chief had held, to everyone’s surprise, though some of his underlings had fallen and been replaced. Everyone knew that if the old Chief could last the day, he might remain Chief for yet another year.

Ja’kh’redd rubbed his fists in sandy-powder from the dunes in the bottom of the canyon, rubbed it over his chest to make him slippery and gritty and hard to hold, stretched his muscles, and rubbed out his bruises. So far he’d been fighting and buffeted for three days and he was sore. Little Koja’so was even more sore, for he’d failed every attempt to get into a low cave so far, and had two more scars.

When Ja’kh’redd was ready, he took to wing, flying fast and furious for the Chieftain’s cave where he knew the old bat sat like a dragon just a few feet into the darkness where only his evil yellow eyes could be seen. Ja’kh’redd already had his plan of action established; he would toss out the Chief’s oldest female with him, for she was nearly his age, and everyone knew the Chief had a special adoration of her. Ja’kh’redd, unlike Uri’ako, would act from the softness of his belly and give the old man his old woman, to share a lower cave with until they both grew too old to mate. He would just keep the two younger, and perhaps take a new third from another cave. He had a couple pretty ones in mind, two of which had not yet been claimed.

Without landing, Ja’kh’redd tucked his wings and cannonballed, full-speed, right into the cave’s mouth and the Chief, who fell backward with an ‘ooomph!’ Immediately there were claws, hissing, snarling, wings slashing out everywhere as the two largest males in the village went at it with everything they had in them. He could feel the weakness in the older Vidos at once; the poor old Chief had just fought for three days and two nights solid, mating every hour to keep his females in his cave, and it showed. He just wasn’t as young as he used to be, when Ja’kh’redd was a cub.

Still, the Chief had some grit left to him, which had kept him his cave so far. He lifted Ja’kh’redd and slammed him into the wall until rubble fell, making the younger Vidos yelp as his wing sprained. Kicking out with toe-claws, he pushed the older male away and bounded after him, knocking him over in a ball of fury and pain. Twisting, grasping, grunting, their tails twined together and slapped like whips, trying to strain for every ounce of leverage. Finally, Ja’kh’redd fought the older male toward the entrance to the cave, and a look of desperation came into the older one’s eyes. He was losing… now… and he knew it.

Toe-claws grasped at the scarred landing-lip, hand-talons snagged the edge of the cave and refused to be dragged, as Ja’kh’redd finally shoved the old man toward open air. For one long, infinite moment, the two poised there, the old Chief on the edge of losing his life’s position, Ja’kh’redd on the verge of gaining his. Down below, as the tired fighting wound to a close, all who were able looked up to watch, and the Day of Mating paused. Even females, some of whom had snuck out of their cave and were causing havoc down in the canyon, looked up to see what would occur. Everything seemed to hold its breath. Then…

…it happened. The old Chief lost his grip, and with one fierce burst of strength, Ja’kh’redd ejected him from his own cave-mouth, to struggle for a moment in the air, before finally getting his wings under him, and gliding to an exhausted crash in a sand dune far below.

The Village howled, it cheered, it called Ja’kh’redd’s name. As long as he could hold the cave until the Heat was over, he’d become Chief until like the old one he could no longer fight off all comers. But at Ja’kh’redd’s age, that would not be for a long, long time.

Koja’so, especially, who had once again been unsuccessful thus far, went into hysterics of joy on his perch, howling again and again as his only friend took his place at the top of the chain. He beat his little chest, and did a war-dance where he stood, beside himself.

Furious, Mate-maddened males from all over the village flew at Ja’kh’redd, including bruised Uri’ako, to be beat back one by one. Wild howls, snarling, scars and blood came from the cave above, the topmost cave in the village, with the warmest mating sands. Uri’ako was thrown down twice, and the other males once, before they all realized that Ja’kh’redd wasn’t weak and wasn’t about to be removed today.

Worked up from the final battles, Ja’kh’redd entered the cave with gusto and didn’t have to go far. Smelling his young male musk, the three females had crept to the opening halfway. There Ja’kh’redd stopped, where he could still guard the entrance from foolish Uri’ako who might try it one last time. They hissed seductively and displayed themselves to him in a most unladylike fashion.

Under normal circumstances, the young Vidos would have been transported halfway to Heaven at the sight, and launched into his male rights with glee. Any other male would have. But seeing the raw display of sexuality simply stopped him cold. In fact, he was so startled by it, a great furious hiss escaped him by instinct, before he could think. Even after he could think, his mind wasn’t really working. He was running on pure instinct, and something just wasn’t right here.

The females all backed up in shock, then grew angry themselves. The oldest one, especially, was really furious at being treated with such indignity, and hissed back. But the younger two were simply confused, staring at him with pale yellow eyes, wondering what they’d done wrong.

Ja’kh’redd paced in the cave mouth, his guts all in turmoil, flipping over and squirming into knots. He’d never felt so uncomfortable in his life! He desired not at all to mate any of the females, not even the young ones he’d thought about taking from the lower caves. He wanted, more than anything, to just fly away now, out into the clean clear countryside, and clear his mind. Yet he knew that if he took to the sky now, two things would happen: first, he’d be attacked with deadly force by every single Village he flew over, as a Raiding male looking for another Village’s females. Second, Uri’ako would take the Cheif’s cave, and Ja’kh’redd would rather die than serve that oaf as Lord.

So he stayed, but he made one move: he grabbed the old woman, who hissed and fought almost as viciously as her previous mate, and brought her to the landing lip.

“Koja’so!” he bellowed.

Instantly his friend took to wing, flitting up to the Chief’s cave like a bat, fast and sleek. “Take this one and give her to Tuss’tan!” Now, the old man was just Tuss’tan, no longer Chief. “She is too old and withers my loins to look at her!” He joked, so that the whole canyon laughed as well, amazed by his expansive act of generosity. Some would whisper disapprovingly that it was the softness of his belly, but none would whisper it too loudly.

Uri’ako, being who he was, laughed rudely and snidely, and very loudly proclaimed in his jealousy, “he cannot handle three females! Only two!”

As soon as the old woman realized what was happening, she became as docile as a cow in Koja’so’s grip, confirming the rumor that she and the old one had a special alliance. She should have been furious that she was being demoted from Chieftess of the Village, but it seemed she was willing to leave that behind to belong to a lower station out of devotion to her man.

Tuss’tan, growling and hurt as he glowered on the sand-dune, was more than glad to snatch his female from Koja’so’s grip, snarling at the other males and making a grand show of taking a lower cave, kicking out it’s former inhabitant and his female, and making a new home for himself. Ja’kh’redd knew he’d be happy there, and that the Village had been well-ordered this year. Everything was as it should be, every cave would be correctly inhabited with tribesmen of the correct rank.

But still… he turned to the remainder of the old Chief’s females… and he could not bring himself to go in. He stood in the entrance of his new home, staring into the dark depths of the cavern, wondering what was wrong with him.

Ja’kh’redd had two fights going for the next few days, as the exhausted Vidos slowly wound down: the young fighters of the Village and Uri’ako, who tried two more times before he gave up for the year, and the two females, who did everything they could think of to lure him in, seduce him, then finally pin him down by violence. They did not succeed in any of their attempts, and finally the Heat came off of them in one night, and they sat blinking at him in bewilderment from the back of the cave, wondering what to do now.

Previous —– Next

Almost guiltily, Ja’kh’redd crept up beside the girl, and put his wing over her. Thomas was asleep in the tiny attached bedroom, snoring away loudly. He licked her ear once, pressing his muzzle into the back of her neck, and felt her stiffen. That was not usual; before, she’d always hugged back, the hug that Jared craved.

This time, Sarai could only think of the disturbing practices of the Vidos culture, their ‘three or four’ females, mating in a week of war more barbaric than anything she’d even imagined. The beast at her back had just become that — a beast.

Yet he was still her big pet, just as adoring and comforting as before, as when she recalled him, an angel from the mists of her earliest childhood. So when he drew back and sat up, confused, she turned over just a little to look at him in the dying light of the old fire.

He didn’t look like a beast to her eyes, not anymore. His brows, fixed fiercely by bone, could be subtly twisted and moved in a variety of expressions just as a human brow could be. His long, pointed ears which mimicked and reversed from his small forward-pointing horns could droop, or pull back in annoyance, or give any number of gestures, and his eyes were infinitely able to communicate. He was, after all, a perfectly sentient being. He could even smile, if he felt like it, which Vidos very rarely did. His smile gave him a sort of flummoxed, rueful expression to her mind, but it was a smile nonetheless.

However, as he gazed down at her, he looked only worried, confused, and troubled. There was a distinct kink in his left brow-ridge which gave him the trembling uncertainty of a puppy whose beloved master has just swatted it for no apparent reason. He truly didn’t understand her sudden reversal, with an open innocence which only a beast could possibly have. Coming from a huge, muscle-bound brute like Jared, the expression made her smile and almost laugh.

Comforted, he melted down just a little toward her again, wanting more than anything to get his hugs the last night he’d ever see kitten.

Thomas had explained this to the girl as well; once Jared was Chief, he would be strapped to the cave for the entire winter, guarding his new eggs… not out of fear of the other males, who would do Jared’s every bidding as the new Chief, but due to the demands of the females, which would have him there day and night, then running errands and hunting out all manner of food for them as they grew with their pregnancy. Once the eggs were laid in the spring, he wouldn’t be able to get away until the hatchlings were learning to fly, in which case he’d have to teach them. And finally, by mid-summer, he might be able to sneak away on a Hunt or two, before Mating came again, and he’d have to repeat the process.

Thankfully, Vidos females did not lay eggs every year, but Jared’s Chief had three women to look after, which meant that he had a good chance of siring eggs every year, and especially the first year, when a female would become more fertile for a new mate.

“You won’t see him for sure until after winter, and if he has eggs, you won’t see him for a year,” the old man had told her. “He may sneak up here by next midsummer, but you’ll likely be on your way back to Sabatton by then… and he may be too busy to come at all. Running a Village and part of a Tribe is not a job for a slacker. I’m afraid you’re going to have to say goodbye to your pet.”

Remembering those warnings, Sarai finally gave in, and pretended she didn’t know where he was going in the morning, or what he’d be doing in a week. Instead, she threw both arms around his thick neck and nuzzled into the crook below his jaw where his skin was softer than kid leather, and warm, and he smelled of forests and open sky.

Instantly he went limp with the sensation of that ecstasy, putty in her hands, slave to a softer touch than any Vidos could or ever would experience from another. A hatchling would curl up in it’s father’s wing, but Vidos never embraced nor snuggled as a cute little human female could. Jared was sound asleep in moments in contentment, his wing throw over her like a great dark blanket, blood-warm. She smiled and felt herself growing dozy in her nest, the pain from her abdomen gone for the moment with almost eight feet of solid muscle and ferocity curled up gently at her side.

She was waked before morning by the movement of Jared. Thomas was still sleeping, but he stirred, and lifted his wing. The sudden coolness of the air over her woke her, to gaze at him as he pulled away. She caught him by the shoulder of his wing, and drew him back, for one last goodbye.

Jared was sorry that he’d waked her, for he’d wanted to sneak out while she was still content, his last sight of kitten being a smiling sleeping face, with all that silly human hair in disarray. But waking, she was difficult to leave behind.

She snuggled with him, she teased, she pulled on his horns, she giggled, and she kept him entirely engaged for an hour as dawn came swiftly, delightfully entertaining him again as she had when she was little. The time passed in moments, as he licked her on the chin and pretended to nip her on the ear, play-fought and then grew so concerned when she winced in pain from her wound that he had to gently feel the bandages all over, to be sure it wasn’t worsened.

She lifted one of his fingers by its talon, and looked at it, remembering when he’d cut her cheek open accidentally. He did too, and ran the back of his claw along the scar. Then he smiled a little, huffed a great sigh, and stood to go.

It was as if Jared forced himself out of the room, and Sarai didn’t stop him. She pressed her lips together and watched him go, feeling cold before he’d even shut the door. Then she closed her eyes and wept without a sound, into the blankets.

“The gypsy-boy, Elsan the Nobleman, and now a Vidos,” she laughed to herself darkly. “I honestly have the worst taste in men,” she sighed, tried to find it funny, and rolled over to face the fire and sleep. But her eyes remained open until she heard the sound of his great leathery wings taking to flight, and listened until he was gone.

Previous —– Next

Sarai quickly improved, which was not merely a testament to Thomas’s skill as a Healer, but a remarkable miracle (and, Jared thought, proof of Thomas’s magical abilities). Within weeks she was able to sit at the table, and had begun to fill out with the game that Jared brought every night, and the fruits and supplies that Thomas grew or donated.

As the Mating grew near, and Jared prepared to return to his village for the great Event, she was able to sit on the porch as Autumn quickly approached, and enjoy the waning summer days.

“You must stay the winter, I’m afraid,” Thomas grumbled to the girl, not entirely sure if he was pleased, or foul about the matter. “You won’t be well enough to travel far for several more months, and by then we’ll be nearly snowed in.”

“But where is Jared going?” She demanded, feeling betrayed and alone already because her ‘angel’ was leaving.

“Your pet, darling, has a Vidos life out there,” Thomas said wryly. “He’s a very strong, full-grown male who has never taken a mate, and this year’s Mating is only days away. He’s poised to become Chief of his entire Village.”

“Mating?” She grimaced at the uncouth term.

“The Vidos females…” Thomas sighed heavily, realizing that this was going to require a little bit of explanation. He sat down on the edge of the porch, watching Jared pull his newly-tanned hides from their frames, and prepare his traveling supplies. “First, know this; Vidos do not think of females the same way humans do. Neither the male Vidos, nor the female Vidos. To them, a female is the most valuable thing in life. She cannot be entrusted to any but the most seasoned fighters, older males like Jared who have come into their prime.”

“Prime? Just a moment, I want to know; how old is Jared? I was only four when he rescued me, but he doesn’t look changed.”

“You mean how long do they live?” He smiled with half of his mouth. “Oh, your average Vidos will live a hundred and fifty or so years, a big strong fellow like Jared possibly two.”

“Two hundred years?” She laughed, delighted.

“Vidos are made of stronger stuff than humans. Now listen and stop interrupting.” He cleared his throat, which led to a hacking cough, and a long spit. Living in the wilderness alone for twenty years hadn’t reflected well in his manners. He wiped his mouth on his arm. “Females are always guarded by a male, from the time they come into their time of Mating, or late puberty. Their male will mate with them when they are of age for eggs.”

“By the God,” she muttered, in distaste. “Do you have to be so blunt about it?”

“This is how they speak of it,” he said dryly. “If you ever learn the Vidos tongue, you will have to endure worse than this.”

“May I learn the tongue?” she asked softly of him.

With a hint of a smile, “well, that will give us something to do this winter at least. Now, the female lives in her mate’s cave, and is rarely seen outside but for puttering about the village. Sometimes, groups of females will get together and go hunting in the local area, with a male or two standing guard.”

“It sounds like a rather closely-watched life,” she said darkly.

“To a human, yes. These are not humans. They are more social than we are, they live in great nests and sleep in piles on top of one another, friend or enemy makes little difference. If they all grew up as hatchlings, they will sleep on top of one another like hounds.

“When Autumn sets in, the females of a village all go into heat at once. This is the Mating, the most important time of the Vidos year. From what I hear,” he cackled, purposefully disregarding her sensibilities as a Lady, “the females are voracious. They’ll drag any male into their cave if they can get their hands on them. So their mate has to stand double-duty; both keeping her appeased in the back of the cave, and keeping the other males out, in the front. I hear it’s exhausting.”

“That is barbaric!”

He cracked his knuckles, just getting into it. “Not only that, but who mates what female determines the rank structure in every Vidos settlement. A Chief often mates two, three, even four females, and has to keep them all from escaping the cave during Mating Week. Therefore, he’s the biggest, strongest, best fighter in the village. If he shows even a hint of weakness, another stronger, younger male will try for his cave, fight him down, and take his females. Thereafter, the young male will be Chief, and the old Chief will become something of a relic. An advisor, they tell me, but still, a relic.” He glared at the tree nearest him, as if the plant was accusing himself of being such a relic.

“I don’t think I want to hear more…”

“Jared here is next in line to take his Chief’s cave. Last year, as he told me last night, the Chief almost lost, and all of the males sensed that he had just withstood his final Mating. Tomorrow morning, Jared is going to go back….”

“I can’t hear any more,” she said, painfully getting up, and hobbling back inside the house.

Jared looked around, sensing that she was leaving, and stared longingly at the door like a lost puppy.

Thomas sighed. “Go on, Ja’kh’redd. I was telling her about the Mating, I think she has no stomach for war.”

Jared snorted. “Yes, well, she is a human.”

“Yes, she is. Remember that.” Thomas said the last two words so pointedly that Jared was curious, and looked at him with a lowering of his hawk-like brow.

“What do you mean, old man?”

“The Time of Mating is too close for your thick Vidos-skull to be thinking clearly. I’ve seen you cuddling up to her every night like a lovesick hatchling.”

Jared was shocked. “What?! How could you… how could you suggest that I… T’oma, she is a human!”

“Yes. She is.” He got up, glared at Jared, spat, and went inside after the girl.

Jared stared at the door, shocked, his mouth slightly ajar. Perhaps it wouldn’t have shocked him so much if Thomas hasn’t been right.

Previous —– Next

Later, when Jared returned, both of the humans nearly attacked him with their questions. He was made to sit down at once, and recount every detail of what he remembered from his first rescue of Sarai, from the smell of the smoke, to the color of the horses, to the paint on the wagons.

“Most of the humans had been killed,” he recalled. “There were Vidos systematically hunting down and killing all those which had escaped.”

“Killing? Systematically? This doesn’t sound like raiders,” Thomas mused, sitting on his favorite chair, and smoking a pipe thoughtfully as the stew boiled on the hearth.

“No,” Jared said thoughtfully, remembering. “No, not like Raiders… ah,” his dark face lit up as he recalled a detail of crucial importance. “Their weapons were Rrumak!”

“Mercenaries,” Thomas said at once, and repeated it to the girl.

“Mercenaries?” She questioned, confused.

“Yes, the Rrumak tribe are notorious. Most of the tribe are miners, or they scratch out a hard living in the Northern Radij Mountains, but their greatest fame comes from their mercenary tribes. They have been known to hire out to anyone, from Gypsies, to Vermoor. There is no reason at all for a war-band of Rrumak to be so far South, on the edges of Mohmast, and haunting a road, unless they were waiting for your caravan. They would be attacked by the local Vidos if they’d remained there, for the Rrumak are unpopular almost everywhere, so they hadn’t set up as highwaymen. Mark my words, it was a specific job.”

“Yes,” Jared agreed when the human had voiced his thoughts in Vidos-tongue. “Yes, they were deliberate. All of the kills were precise, very carefully planned.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he thought about he lay of the wagons, the places the horses had fallen. “They struck kitten’s wagon first I think. Or among the first.”

She laced her fingers together on her chest, eyes huge, as she pieced together the memories of her foggy forgotten childhood. “My parents… they were wealthy I think… I remember big houses, sunny big rooms. Flowers everywhere, and women who can only be maids. Yes! I must have been from a wealthy house,” she said longingly, delighted, as if she’d just been made a queen.

“So another tribe of humans was jealous,” Jared pieced together with a scowl, poking the fire with a stick.

“Another tribe? How about this, Jared; why were her parents running for Argen across Vidos-land, and not across the Radij Pass far to the South?”

“If they were Gypsy… many Gypsy families have safe passage on the Galef-road.”

“Does she look Gypsy to you?” Thomas asked sarcastically.

Jared stared at her, and shrugged. “Humans all look the same to me.”

Smoking his pipe, Thomas sat back and gazed at her for a long moment before he finally spoke. “I have a theory, that I have been piecing together for days. I don’t think you’re from Vermoor, child. I think you’re from Sabatton.”

“Sabatton!” She repeated in surprise. “But Sabatton was lost hundreds of years ago, destroyed in the War of the Flying Ships!”

“Lost, yes. Destroyed, no. It… just vanished,” he grinned. “It closed its gates, and it hid itself.”

“How is that possible for a nation to hide itself?”

“Sabatton is not a normal nation, like other nations,” he said dreamily, with a slight smile. “It is quite different. And it can, when it chooses, hide itself, unless one knows where to find it. Unless… one is from Sabatton.” He tapped his head.

“You?”

Nodding, he smoked. “Where do you think I learned to read and write? Only the nobility in Argen are taught anything, but in Sabatton, even the peasants can write. I left when I was eighteen, but I have always remembered.”

“Why don’t you go back?” Then she forgot her own question in her excitement, “Are you sure that I am from Sabatton?”

“Almost positive. Do you recall your history lessons? Did those Argenian nobles teach you anything? Sabatton, once long ago, used to be the only human nation with trade-relations to the Vidos-land. To this day, or at least to the day forty-nine years ago,” he said ruefully, “Sabatton still opened the Western Gate now and then to trade with the Vidos, and had good relations with the Tribe of K’nokma. K’nockma is just North of Mohmast, which also has relatively good relations with K’nokma.

“Now here is my theory: if you were from Sabatton, the Mohmast and K’nokma would have left the caravan alone if they knew it was Sabbatoni. May have even protected it as it went through their territory. Therefore, they only ran into trouble once they left Mohmast and entered Pa’eeyam Khan territory, which is a veritable no-man’s land of law and order, the great gamble. That is where the Rrumak mercenaries made their strike, and no one thought twice about it.”

“Why were my parents, wealthy Sabbatoni, traveling to Argen at all?” She asked.

“They were supplied for a long, fast journey,” Jared noted. “Nothing heavy, but much food. No personal possessions, but provision for the horses, which meant they were not going to stop to graze them.”

“Only food to steal, no valuables?” Thomas mused.

“Yes, there were fine clothes,” Jared recalled the bodies, the wreckage. “Pillows… blankets… they had great wealth.”

“Clothes…” Sarai grew excited again. “Thomas, beside me there was a satchel, the caravaners put my things with me when they brought me out to Jared…”

He held up the small purse, stuffed with all that she owned.

“Give it to me.”

When he complied, Sarai pulled out a small pile of sundry necessities, until she came to a small tightly wrapped bundle in the bottom. “I have always treasured this.” As she unwrapped it, they saw that it was a child’s garment of blue silk, tattered and discolored almost beyond recognition.

Jared smiled when he saw it, and sniffed at it, then made a sour expression for the smell. “It used to smell better,” he noted.

“Do you think there is anything on this that might give us a clue?” She was breathless in excitement.

Thomas took it eagerly, and with his surgeon’s eye looked the dress over front and back, inside and out.

“I had to steal it back from Norna in Kulna,” she confided to Jared, though he could not understand her. “They took it from me, and only the Gypsy boys told me where it was, because they’d tried to sell it to the gypsies, so I stole it the night I ran away.”

“Very well made,” Thomas reported. “Exactly what you’d expect from a wealthy family. No markings, unfortunately. I cannot tell much from this, other than what we already know.” He handed it back regretfully. Then, as he was doing so, paused and brought it back to squint at it very closely, then smooth it out quickly on the table, to stare at it under the lamp. What he found made only the slightest change in his face, but he quickly hid it. “No. Nothing. Keep it safe, girl, it’s the only clue we have.”

“What did you see just now?” She asked.

“Rather, what I thought I saw,” he sighed, lit his pipe again, and kept smoking.

•

Sarai narrowed her eyes at Thomas’s back as the old man slept, stroking her pet Vidos’s smooth flat skull as he dozed beside her near the fire. He seemed a very happy Vidos, warm every night with plenty to eat, a shelter to live in more comfortable than a cave, and a lovely kitten to pet him. If he could have purred, he would have.

Leaning over to whisper very quietly, so that only the Vidos could hear, she said, “I know he saw something else in the dress, and isn’t telling us. But I’ll get it out of him.” She pat Jared’s head, firm in her conviction. “I’ll get it out somehow.”

Previous —– Next

The girl grew stronger, and, captured heart and soul by that hug, Ja’kh’redd hardly left her side, except to foray into the forests halfheartedly looking for game. He always came back within a few hours, however, to crouch by her side and sing Vidos-hatching songs, or gently lay half of a wing over her as he watched her sleep.

“By the God,” the Hermit told her on the third day, as she grew strong enough to sit up just a little and eat broth, “I think that Vidos loves you.”

She laughed very quietly, and smiled, thinking it was funny. “I bet I’m the only girl who has a pet Vidos.”

“Some tribes eat humans, you know,” the crotchety old man said matter-of-factly. “Of course, Jared is from the Mohmast tribe, which keep to themselves and tend to be peaceable, if strange. I’d call him strange, for sure,” he fed her more broth slowly. “A good hunter, but strange.”

“He is an angel,” she told him when she rested from eating. “I told them that when I was a child. A dark angel, which only looked like a Vidos. It had found me when the… when it happened… and carried me away. I only have a few memories, but they are strong… the strongest is of myself looking down into the surface of a very still lake as we flew over it. I can still see my face reflected in the water, in the arms of the great dark shape with wings of a dragon, and a long tail behind, a Vidos-angel carrying me. And then we went up, and up… and it got smaller, but there was still a white blur in that shape, and that was me.” She gazed into thin air in wonder at it. “And it was so peaceful, and so beautiful. I think I have been flying in that night forever, like it’s a moment outside of time.”

“You speak very well for an Argenian peasant,” the old Hermit observed keenly, watching her face.

“And you are very scholarly for a Trapper,” she countered, glancing at the wall of books.

“I trade for my books,” he defended, insistently feeding her more, so that he could talk without interruption. “I make a good living in Healing and herb-lore as well…”

“Yes,” she cut in, fighting her way out from under his spoon to match wits with him, “but you can READ.”

He narrowed his eyes, gazing at her. “You first, where did you learn to speak as you do? An Argenian peasant doesn’t know such words. Or are those clothes for show?”

“No, they are my clothes,” she said regretfully, pulling at the neck of the rough dress with one hand. She sighed, lay back on the pillow wearily, and explained. Her nurse put his soup away for the moment, knowing that she was too tired to eat any more.

“Jared left me in a very poor village who did nothing kind in their lives but to take me in, when Yora found me on the edges of his field crying. After that, I was a slave-girl, used by the Headwoman of the settlement to cook and clean. For the most part I was a laundress. But every time the Gypsies would come through the village to trade, on their way to Vermoor, I snuck out to speak to the Gypsy boys. I made friends, and every year, they came back and told me more about the world.

“I thought I fell in love with one of them,” she sighed mournfully, “and hating my miserable life in Kulna, I ran away with them. It lasted four weeks, but by then we’d travelled quite a ways West, toward the Sea. They left me near Votath, in Bread Provence, and simply drove away. I walked to the nearest village, and due to the kindness of a woman, was employed as a Laundress.

“This continued for years. I would eventually move on, Westward again, always trying to find a better life.”

“Then it’s remarkable that he found you again,” the Hermit wondered.

She shook her head, equally amazed. “I don’t know what agency caused it, but it cannot be chance.” She looked at him curiously. “What is your name, sir?”

“I suppose after the night you gave me stitching you up, I owe you that, eh?” He cackled. “Thomas, and that is all you need know.”

“Thomas. It cannot be chance, Thomas.”

He remained silent on the subject, watching her.

She gazed at the fire, reliving a long and weary life, though it had only been twenty-one years so far. “When I was fourteen, I made my way to Corsis at last, the Four Cities by the Sea.” For a moment, her eyes shone again with delight. “They are beautiful, left-over from an ancient Age, when the people of Argen were like the people of Nolanar, before the Vidos came and sacked Nolanar. Wonderful cities, with huge white buildings of stone with no seam, and bridges which span the entire bay!

“I lived there and in Movial until only six months ago. It was my greatest fortune to have my advertisement for employment met by a Noblewoman who needed a young maid for her child daughter. Why she took me, I shall never know. Pity, perhaps. A penniless laundress near to begging in the streets, but she employed me in her great House, and I spent the next eight years a Lady-in-waiting.

“Those years were not as easy as they sound,” she said wryly, with a dark glance toward him. “The elder ladies despised me with venom, and this is why I was forced to leave so quickly in the end.” A hollow sorrow. “I loved the girl, now a young woman, but… an incident with a young man who was courting me…” She shook her head, beyond words for the pain of it.

Thomas set about cleaning up his tiny house, stepping carefully over and around the woman who took up the entire center of the floor.

When she was ready, she went on. “Well, it wasn’t meant to be anyway. He was a nobleman. We hardly knew one another, and soon he would have discovered that I was a mere peasant, and an orphan, and would have stepped away. Yet that would have been more honorable than…” a long sigh. “They made it to look as if I were a… a loose woman, planting very strong evidence which I could not deny. I was thrown out of the house, he… well, I never saw him again needless to say.” Her voice was flat and dry at this point, for it had seeped down to bitterness in her.

“I again took the job of a laundress, but I still had the parting money that the good woman gave me. After four months of persecution in Movial for my hair, I finally grew fed up enough to end it all, and purchased a place in a Caravan going to Vermoor as their Laundress.”

“Why Vermoor? I hear it’s nearly the same as Argen for the attitude of the people. Both nations are closed-minded, arrogant…”

“They have red hair,” she said blandly, laying without any apparent will. “All of the trouble in life I’ve had has come from the color of my hair. I tried to dye it, I tried to cut it off, but it was no use. The color of my eyes, skin… there was no hiding it from the bronze Argenian people. They are very superstitious, from peasant to Noble, and took every opportunity to make my life into pain for it.”

The old man snorted, disgusted. “Running away to Vermoor won’t solve your troubles, young woman. For when you go there, you will find another excuse for your trouble. ‘Oh, now I have an Argenian accent, so they hate me,’” he mocked, without a hint of pity. “’Oh, I’m too skinny, I’m too red-haired, I have too many freckles, I’m an orphan, I can’t speak the language!’ Foolish girl, don’t you realize that when you go to Vermoor your life will be twice as hard, for they hate Argenians more than they hate Vidos or Gypsies?” He shook his head, putting his books away by the armload. “You haven’t left your problem, girl, your problem is you!”

“Me? How dare you!” She managed to shout, though her voice was weak. “Do you know what I’ve gone through?”

“If you bust your stitches, I shall not fix you!” He pointed a long, gnarled finger at her warningly, and glared at her with his pale blue eyes.

She lay back, fuming at him, furious that he hadn’t taken pity on her as she deserved.

Thomas cackled to himself, not so much amused as ironic. “That figures, a young woman with all of life before her, beauty, strength, health, arms to work and eyes to see, killing herself with self-pity over the color of her hair. Suicide.”

“Suicide!” She shouted again, furious. “My parents were killed…”

“Were they?” He challenged.

That silenced her, because the truth was, she really didn’t know.

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In the morning, a foggy predawn without color and without a sound but the dripping of the moisture from the trees high above, Ja’kh’redd woke with a snort. He’d curled around a sack of grain unconsciously, using it as his pillow, and his back was sore. When he tried to move his wings, he realized why. He was still exhausted, but needed to know about kitten before anything else.

“Arrgghg,” the Vidos snorted, wincing with pain, then looking around the little house.

It was dark inside, for all the windows were shuttered, but for the red glow of the coals from the fire, and a few fine slits of gray-white light from the window panes. Yet for Vidos eyes, that was enough.

He held his breath for the soreness of his body, and crawled carefully the few feet to the girl’s side, seeing that she was wrapped in new blankets, and her cheeks were just a hint pink again. She was alive. Once again, the old Hermit had literally worked a miracle; but Ja’kh’redd was not entirely surprised. It was a rumor that the old Hermit had magician’s powers, and that he could heal a wound far faster than normal. From the looks of the girl, she was already days along her recovery after only a few hours. It had to be magic.

“Good, old man,” he muttered, pleased beyond himself, which woke her.

She looked up at him through her utter exhaustion, seeing only the outline of his head, horns, and wings, and the glint of his eyes, red from the coals. He made a nightmarish figure, yet she was not afraid. Even so, she winced when he nuzzled her under one ear, then smiled in surprise to feel that his skin was as soft as kid-leather, as soft as a horse’s muzzle. Somehow, the monster’s touch was comforting. She tried not to laugh because it would hurt very much, wondering at the massive beast which seemed to want to be her new pet. Though she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, she was far too curious to fall back into dreamless darkness just yet.

The Hermit was sleeping in a chair, fully dressed with blood on his arms, having sat down for just a minute to rest when he was sure the worst was over. That had been three hours before.

At the hint of soft voices he woke, bleary, gazing at the dark shapes before the fire until he realized that his patient and her odd rescuer were awake and attempting to communicate. Yet he sat, and listened, too tired to move and sure that the girl was well. The fact that she felt strong enough already to speak was a heartening sign.

“Are you really the Vidos that rescued me when I was a child?” She whispered out loud, yet to herself, knowing he did not understand. Her voice was pathetically faint, but she had no strength for anything more.

“Now you will grow strong, the Hermit will know what to feed you,” the Vidos responded, in his own language. “Surely he has many berries.”

“Why did you save me? Why did you rescue me as a child, and how did you find me again? Are you a spirit?”

“This time you will find yourself a mate and stay in the village where I put you, so that you will not be attacked on the mountain passes anymore. You have given me much trouble, kitten.”

“I thought it was a dream for so long. The others mocked me when I told them I’d been rescued by a Vidos, they hate Vidos… they convinced me I’d been dreaming.”

“You will mate with a prosperous male who has the ability to clothe you decently, and you will eat until you are not weak and too thin.”

The Hermit began to smile, amused. Sensing his awareness, Ja’kh’redd turned to look straight at him. Vidos senses were truly remarkable, especially in the dark.

“Hermit, I will hunt for you until the Mating to pay for the healing.”

“Hunt me a few pelts, Ja’kh’redd, to pay for the herbs, for this time the healing was free,” he responded as gently as the Vidos tongue allowed.

The woman flushed a little in amazement, staring at the Hermit. “You speak his tongue?” she demanded.

“Yes,” he replied in accented Argenian, “I often trade with the Vidos, and they bring me their wounded to heal. I learned their tongue and glyphs years ago, it isn’t very complicated.”

“Then can you speak to this Vidos for me?” Her eyes glinted with hope.

“What do you want to say?” He asked, entertained by his guests as he hadn’t been for months. “I’ll relay it to him exactly as you say it.”

She looked at the Vidos in wonder and asked, “Why did you save me when I was a child?”

Ja’kh’redd grinned at the Hermit, realizing that he could finally talk to kitten, as he never dreamed possible. Enthusiastically, he replied, “you were hurt, kitten.” (At this point the Hermit snickered, explaining to her that Ja’kh’redd had used the Vidos word for cute fuzzy baby animal,) “I am not a Hunter which kills the cub with its mother, nor a mother if it has cubs, unless there is a mistake. If I find a cub wounded, I will put it where it can survive. I am not like the barbarian humans, who kill for no reason.”

“I was taught that Vidos are all killers, who kill for no reason other than sport.”

Ja’kh’redd made a face, sitting back in a huff. “Indeed, many of the Lesser Tribes are uncouth barbarians themselves. I am not excusing them. Some fight for bloodlust, and some kill for entertainment. But I am not one. I am a proper Hunter.”

“So you found me as a child, and saved me? How did you find me? I can’t remember anything, but the Vidos…” She stopped, finding the vague horrible memories difficult. “I don’t even remember who I was, I could never remember my last name.”

“I found you hiding under a wagon. The horses had been killed…”

“Were you one of the Vidos which attacked us?” She demanded, eyes flickering with dark accusations, as those ancient blurry memories came back one after another.

“No. I am a Hunter. I was flying overhead and smelled the smoke and blood, and I came down to be sure it wasn’t Argenian invaders, whom I hate. I saw that it was Vidos which had attacked a human caravan, and I heard your sound. I lifted the wagon to see you, and took you from there. Then I took you for many days toward Argen…”

“Why?” She cried out, agonized, and began to cry. She turned her face toward the fire. “Why did you bring me to Argen? Why didn’t you take me to Vamoor?”

Ja’kh’redd paused in befuddlement, gazing at the Hermit, who himself shrugged. “That’s what she said,” the old human added.

“Vamoor,” Ja’kh’redd said gently, leaning over her to explain, “was far from where your caravan was attacked. It was on the road from Argen, so I took you to Argen. I thought your people were from Argen.”

“With this hair?” She demanded weakly, tears brimming from her eyes. She was more than just physically wrecked, but emotionally as well. Life had not treated her kindly. “The Argenians hate anyone with red hair, they say they are witches from the Northsea, from Vamoor and Dalhan, which is why I was trying to go there. My blood is from Vamoor, not Argen.”

“The Caravan was coming from Argen…” he began to argue, then realized the wagons had been pointed the wrong direction. They hadn’t been coming from Argen… they’d been going TO Argen. They’d passed through the entire width of Vidos-land, only to be caught on the Westernmost boarder. He sat back in a huff, surprised. “No, they were going to Argen. But why cross the Vidos-land? The pass of Radij two days to the South, where I found you four nights ago, is much safer… even with the Raiders.”

“Not for me obviously,” she said bitterly, then cried, and reached out for him. “Come here.”

Ja’kh’redd hesitated, wondering what the young human female wanted. Vidos are not known for touching, or caressing but to lick at one another for a time, and so he did not know what to expect. When he drew near, coming on hands and knees very carefully, she pulled him to her with her good arm, until his soft leathery cheek was against her shoulder, and embraced him gently.

Ja’kh’redd, bewildered, crouched there frozen for several long moments, the utmost look of pure confusion on his fierce face. The Hermit had a hard time not laughing. But for Ja’kh’redd, it was like the moment when she was a very tiny child, when she had reached up and lighted to his bosom like a tiny bird, in full and complete trust. Soon he closed his eyes, both the upper and the lower lids, and rested there.

“Goodness,” the Hermit whispered to himself, amazed as he pulled on his lower lip. “Now that’s a sight you don’t see every day.” To give them a moment, he got up and began to crack open the shutters, to bring a little light and air into the room as the sun rose. But he kept looking back at them curiously, for he’d never seen such a bond between human and Vidos before in his life, nor heard of any.

When she spoke, he translated softly once again, just as curious to hear the conversation as they were.

“Thank you twice for rescuing me.” She stared at him, at a loss for a moment, then went on. “There should be more to say, but no words are enough. You are a very rare Vidos.”

“I just…” Ja’kh’redd stammered, feeling odd all over. “I… I…” He sat back, hand on brow, wondering what was wrong with him. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, but strange, and he surmised that it must be continued exhaustion from the long flight. Or his soft belly. Yet it centered around that little hug, so simple and innocent, and so very unlike anything Vidos he’d ever experienced.

Being a beast, he didn’t over-analyze anything, and so quickly decided that he preferred the embrace, and crouched over her once more with, if it were possible, a sheepish smile. As the Hermit stared openmouthed, Ja’kh’redd the Vidos Warrior was soon curled up around the girl on the floor, with his chin on the top of her head, and her arm around his leathery neck.

“Puh…” the old man blew out, in astonishment. “Well, girl… it seems you have yourself a new pet! And a very large one at that! I hope you can feed him enough!” He said in the human tongue.

She smiled a little. “Good thing… no other human will approach me.” With that obscure remark, she fell asleep again, and the two remained where they were all morning.

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Ja’kh’redd flew that night, after only an hour’s short rest, desperate with an inner fury born of determination that she would not die, if he had any ability to stop it. He ached through the night, panting by dawn, high over Kesso provence. Yet he was too high for the inhabitants to bother him, and he did not stop for any rests as he flew.

Morning turned to noon, and he felt sure that his heart would burst, but he flew on until black spots appeared in his vision. By the time he was swaying in the air, and the litter had become too heavy for him, he was over the foothills of the Kaedl Mountains, within hours of his goal. He came in for a shaky landing, feeling as if his wings would fail him at any moment, under a copse of trees in a protected valley between two large hills.

Ja’kh’redd landed in a gasp and a huff, putting her down very gently in the shade, before falling down beside her like a shot shagomat. He gasped for air and lay on his side for a long while, until he could raise himself and crawl to the girl’s side to check her breathing. She still was, but barely, even paler now with a high temperature.

“Oh kitten, why are you so much trouble,” he sighed, wings drooping brokenly to the ground beside them, then crawled to his feet to gaze out over the valley with his eagle-sharp vision to be sure he hadn’t been spotted by any locals.

He set up watch above her, and rested, still unable to allow himself to sleep while in Vidos-lands, holding his two remaining súwah-blades in his hands, but no one came.

After several hours of rest, he lifted her again and she woke. She looked up at him, eyes dark and distant this time, and sad. Murmuring things to him in her own language, he lay her back down and licked her face again, which she was too weak to protest. Then she was asleep or unconscious, and he started out for the Soor pass, hours of flight above them in the thinner air, where it would be harder to fly.

•

By that night, Ja’kh’redd was walking, too exhausted to fly on any more. He carried the litter as if hauling five shagomat’s worth of meat in bags at the end of a strenuous month-long hunt, grunting and muttering to himself, in an entirely foul mood. But when he smelled the woodsmoke of the Hermit’s house, he immediately cheered, lifted the litter higher, and made haste to his little footpath which rose from the main road up onto a little hill overlooking it. This part of the mountain was thickly wooded with spicy dark evergreens and meetau trees, whose golden seedpods rattled and whispered hollowly in the wind like rasping wood flutes, making eerie music.

“HERMIT!” He yelled as he came up the path, trying not to wake her, but knowing that she was almost at the point of death, with or without licking her face.

After two or three summons, the old man appeared at his dimly lit doorway, glaring into the night. “What are you!” He demanded in the Vidos Tongue.

“Ja’kh’redd of the Tribe of Mohmast-Tenuu, I have come with a dying human cub, you must heal her!”

“Wh… a what?” The Hermit sputtered, pulling his summer coat from the wall, and pulling it on as he came out onto his porch. “What have you, hunter? Ja’kh’redd… wait, I remember you… you are the one who brings shagomat and ver’ka! Don’t you hunt far to the South? Shouldn’t you be near your home for the Mating?”

“I have flown for two days, and then for a night and a day without rest, to bring this man-child…” He approached the human trapper on his rough-hewn porch, and drew the blanket away from kitten’s face gently. She looked dead.

“Oh by the God… bring her in at once…” the old man was visibly shaken, throwing his door wide for the Vidos, then dragging hatchet-hewed furniture and tables out of the way to make room for her by the hearth. He drew out several thick pelted shagomat hides to form a springy mattress beneath her, and Ja’kh’redd lay her down at last.

“Vidos, I know not whether I may heal her,” the human reported, leaning down over her to check her pulse and temperature with his calloused old hands. “I am expert at setting bones and mending broken wings, sewing skin and the sorts of wounds from a fresh battle, but this has been festering for a very long while. How many days ago was she injured?”

“Four,” he sighed, sinking to the floor in the corner of the small main room, exhausted.

“Four days, by the God…”

After that, Ja’kh’redd remembered little. Snatches of the Hermit muttering, praying, soothing, clucking, begging. The fire crackling, built high for warmth and light, as the Hermit worked all night. The clatter of pots as he made his famous poultices and medicines, drawing out books and muttering, frenzied to save the child if he could.

Then Ja’kh’redd slept deeply, and forgot about everything.

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