[+]
PART III: The Impossible Society
"When a goat likes a book, the whole book is gone,
and the meaning has to go find an author again."
― William Stafford
The Trouble With Reading
The 29th Dawn
Definitely something. Something rushing. Or roaring.
She could swear she heard something. Even as she lay flat, her ears swiveled carefully around. Her belly, her chest were flush with the earth, and it seemed almost like others, somewhere in the warren, were already on the move. But the sun wasn't up yet. And when she finally forced herself to stand, Akiara couldn't hear anything but field crickets in the distance.
Was her belly telling her things her ears couldn't pick up on? Or was the act of lying down, her prostrate form, telling her something she couldn't keep with her when she stood up? Was anyone really up already, or was she just sensing the promise, the immense potential of the day?
She already had the sense she could feel things that others couldn't. Things like when it was time to dig more escape routes. Like when it was time to move en masse, and when it would be futile. Her instincts turned out to be wrong half the time, true, but she couldn't let them go. She had to act on what she felt. One area where she did better than average was knowing when the rain would be brief and when it would persist for hours; when the winds would change; when the clouds would fill the sky. Akiara was no future-teller. Her ears and nose weren't any better than the next rabbit's. She just had different ways of putting her perceptions together, of knowing what they meant. And occasionally she turned out to be right; occasionally she was able to say I told you so.
These strangers, this oddball trio who'd opened their lives to the people of the Forest and to the rabbits of Tall Meadow. Akiara knew something about them. They were no passing shower. They were a rain that would endure and endure. She could feel it. But what she wondered especially, as she climbed to the surface and skipped along the pre-dawn grassland, was whether that rain would be the kind that nourishes or the kind that destroys.
She wasn't sure she'd be going back home for breakfast. If she was the first one up in the morning, no one could keep her from going down to the brook. And she'd have plenty of time to plan for what might come.
The 29th Morning
This was different. Two mornings ago, Mei had flopped and turned, unable to fully wake up; today, he felt as though he'd slept like a stone settling in a river. When he rose, he rose with no weights upon him. Slumber was something he still felt all around, as if the world were sleeping… but none of it seemed to have stuck to him. Mei had slept on the smooth earth, with no moss bed to comfort him, yet he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well.
Gabu snoozed audibly. Mei didn't wake him. He went outside, munched the first flower he saw, and wondered whether Bepo was around.
Apparently not. On impulse, though, Mei went to the general area where he'd most often encountered the rodent and looked around. "Bepo?" he called. "Are you there?"
No response. Shrugging, he started in on another flower. Mei didn't like stripping the hill of too many flowers, but after yesterday, he felt like he'd earned this.
The grass rustled and suddenly his friend stood there before him. Its little dark eyes were aimed straight up, head stock still as though it could anchor a tree. "Hoofy."
Mei took a breath and gave a tiny nod. "Bepo. Hello."
"Hello hoofy. All right? All pieces? No hurt?"
"All pieces," Mei reassured. "And not hurt. Though I can't claim not to have been afraid yesterday."
Bepo's stillness suddenly gave way to a mad circular dash, but this was over in an instant. "Shaggy chase! Shaggy still friend?"
Mei nodded, surprised by the pressure he suddenly felt behind his eyes. "We're still very much friends."
"But chase?!"
"You were there when we agreed to it. We decided it's for the best this way."
"But really hunt!" squealed Bepo.
"He doesn't want to kill me. And I won't give him the chance."
"Hoofy life complex. Why so complex?"
Mei had to think about that. Was his life complex? In some ways, it was simple—he went to the same places every day, talked with the same people, slept in the same cave. But compared to life with the herd... it was true, his current life was devilishly complex. In the herd, he'd been surrounded by gossip and chitchat; it had given him the impression of being surrounded by activity. Now, he was the source of most of his own activity. He was no longer wading through a lake of life; now he was the lake.
"I guess it's because I'm trying something that, so far as I know, has never been done."
"All creature friend?"
Mei nodded deeply. "Wouldn't it be nice if we could all be friends with each other?"
Bepo blinked. "Friend with bugs? Friend with worms?"
This made Mei laugh. "I don't know about that. But I will say this—if they asked me to be friends, I would certainly consider it!"
Bepo stood amid tall blades of grass, in thought. "If all friends... then not all creatures."
"Come again?"
"Why different?" asked the vole. "Long ear, short tail. Short ear, long tail. Why? Because not all friend."
Mei frowned. "I'm not sure I follow. Are you saying it's because we have enemies that we have differences in form?"
"If not enemy friend? Enemy something." Bepo nipped off a blade of grass in its teeth. "If all together? All same."
Mei tried to grasp what the vole was getting at. But pawsteps through the grass drew his attention, and he looked up at the approaching shadow.
"Good morning, packmate!"
Lala was smiling. Her head was held high, as was her whole body—she seemed to have a lot of pep today. Mei wondered if it was for him.
"Lala."
"Congratulations on avoiding those scary wolves yesterday. Up in the mountains, huh?"
Mei had indeed spent the best part of yesterday in the mountains, some of it uncomfortably high. He wasn't pleased to hear Lala call him out on it. "I take it you followed my trail."
"So you didn't smell us? I guess we never got close," she replied. "Ah-ah—don't tell me your secrets, if you have any! That is to say, don't tell me anything I could use against you. If there's anything you did yesterday that it wouldn't help me to learn... well, I'd love to hear it." She settled down into the grass. "Oh—hello, Bepo!"
"Hello other shaggy."
Mei considered what to say. It was hard to know what tidbits someone like Lala might be able to twist into useful information. "Well... I asked myself where I could go that it would be downright folly for you to follow me. I didn't want to just play a guessing game. I wanted to play a game I could be sure I would win."
Lala nodded. "Well reasoned. And you thought of Muri Muri."
"It's just that goats are more sure-footed than wolves in the mountains. But don't expect me to go there every time." In fact, Mei was planning to go to Muri Muri every hunting day, at least until he had a better idea. But he intended to change the paths he took, and possibly to cover them with snowdrifts. He'd considered doing that last night, but decided it would be safer just to leap from one rock to another until he'd made enough distance to have foiled any pursuers. Causing miniature avalanches could potentially reveal his path more blatantly than any hoofprints he might leave.
"Of course not." Lala winked. "You have plans, I expect."
Mei nodded. And I may break them, he thought of saying, but chose to settle into the grass instead. Lala would understand there were words unsaid.
"In any case. It's good to see you again, packmate."
Mei nodded again. He couldn't bring himself to say 'You too.'
"Silver woof," said Bepo sternly.
Lala looked down, ears pulling back in amusement. "Yes?"
"Will really eat hoofy? Not is friend?"
Lala stood in silence for a moment. "I'd like to think he's my friend." She glanced briefly at Mei. "But… I would eat him, if it came to that. It's my responsibility."
"Responsibilitry?"
"It's difficult to explain, Bepo," said Mei.
"But maybe not taste good?" protested the rodent.
Lala's palate showed as she contemplated, a drop of saliva falling. "Oh, believe me. He would taste good. I know."
Such a far cry from Gabu, who would have had Mei believe he'd never eaten a goat in his life. Yet Mei was getting used to being thought of as edible, under certain circumstances. Still, he decided to change the subject. "Are you looking forward to seeing the woodland creatures again?"
Lala's paws flexed, claws digging into the earth. "Oh, absolutely!"
"Gabu mentioned your hunt didn't go well. Will you… be all right?"
Lala drew a deep breath. "I'll be tested, these next few days. But I intend to pass the test."
"You could go off on your own again, you know. You don't have to stay for the meet-up."
She sat back abruptly. "But Mei! Isn't this our moment of triumph?"
It was true. "Yes, but if you're worried about getting hungry…"
Lala smirked. "I appreciate your concern! But I can live on pride for a while."
"Pride eat?" asked Bepo. "Are sure?"
Lala beamed, shoulders raised. "I'm sure. I've done it before!"
Mei breakfasted quietly on stiltgrass and watched her dubiously. He supposed he would have to be satisfied with that.
The 29th Day
Staying out of the way and sequestered all morning… hadn't felt right. She'd almost talked herself into it, but then Akiara had imagined descending on the meeting from a strange place of loneliness, and she'd realized she had to go back. But she didn't go all the way back to the warren. She lingered at the edge of the meadow, waiting to see who would come. Not her parents, she hoped, and not Pryce, the father of her first litter, or Hisao, the busybody always trying to keep everyone corralled. Not that Akiara didn't give unwanted advice—she just agreed with her own, and found his repugnant more often than not. Plus, Hisao had authority, thanks to being respected. Akiara was young—only thrice a mother—and had very little authority, thanks in large part to her advice turning out bad so often. For her part, she had faith that rightness would come with time—she just had to learn how her instincts fit together—which to heed and which to downplay. She had incipient wisdom in her and fully expected to become a venerated, wise old doe someday… if only she could live that long.
Sure enough, they came. Her first visitor was her sister's friend, Jakka. It started out with good morning and howdee do, does it look like rain, do you think? There was a bit of a drought on, with only three or four meager rainfalls the whole spring, but it was bound to break soon, didn't she think? The meadowgrass was getting brittle, but was still certainly edible, as were the dandelions starting to come up. Jakka liked dandelions before they started to flower, didn't Akiara? It was a full three minutes into their chatter before she asked whether Akiara was really going to do it—was she really going back to that horrible club that had sprung up in the woods by the brook? Was she really going to spend the day with long-jawed, neck-snapping, potentially life-ending wolves?
"You bet I am," said Akiara. "And I'm going to hear their stories."
"Well, don't blame me if you come back dead," said Jakka. Half-joking. She showed no interest in the stories at stake, and not much in the result of the experiment it all represented. "You know I'm going to let the others know. I won't seek them out, mind, but if they ask me, I'll tell them where you are, and you know they'll ask."
Akiara knew. Her colony had no shortage of meddlers. She should know—she was one herself. "Fine. But if my parents try to come and bring me back, please stop them, okay? I won't go back. It'll just be a useless fracas."
Jakka sighed. "I can't stop another rabbit from doing what they want to do. I'll tell them you said so, though. We'll see."
She only had to make it to midmorning. She could slip away soon. "Sure, Jakka. Take care."
Jakka went back under, and sure enough, two of Akiara's siblings appeared not twenty minutes later and bounded over. They launched into an argument that was more passion than reason, more self-directed moaning than any concern for their sister's sake. They were amazed that anyone could seek out predators, for any reason, ever. They were just a fount of melodrama today.
"Don't you see?" she demanded, knowing very well they didn't. "We could learn so much! We could gain so much!"
"I don't know what you're hoping to gain," said her sister softly, fearfully. "What could wolves teach us? What could we possibly learn from wolves?"
"Anything they tell you, check it twice before you obey," said her brother. "It's like as not a trick. They will trick you—you know that, don't you?"
She dismissed them and told them she'd report everything when she came back—but not just to them. Her true friends would hear first. Pity those weren't the folks coming to see her now. The next visitor on the horizon was—oh, lordy, him? Matsuo's bulky charcoal form cast about, staring one way and another before spotting her and leaping with surprising rapidness her way. She saw his skin refold with each bound, and could practically hear the recriminations already. She wanted to leave, but just as badly wanted her leaving to be on a good note. So she stuck around to tell this guy off.
"Akiara! You half-tunneled betrayer, is it true? Are you headed down to another profane tryst by the water?"
Already she wanted to kick him in the face. "Do you think it's any of your business?"
"My business? My business? Remind me, wanton kit—which of us lost a tender mate to those despicable maws? Have you ever known sorrow? True sorrow? You have no right to traffic with wolves!"
"I haven't known your sorrow, no. But that doesn't give you the right to tell me where to spend my days." Was she really going to go for the punch, here? Well, did she want to end on a good note or not? "Just because you chickened out on your stupid suicide-by-wolf doesn't mean you own the blasted things."
He gaped. Good. "Have you no shame? No dignity? How dare you?" demanded Matsuo, face tensing, scuffing the earth at the meadow's edge.
"It's thanks to you I'm doing this," she told him quietly. "If those wolves had gobbled you up, I wouldn't go. But they held back. They held back because it was their rule, and in my way of thinking that entitles them to a chance. So if you want to blame anyone for my going, blame your own fickle liver!"
His ears sank; he crouched as if to spring. "They slew Tsubaki!" he yelled.
"Is there a soul in the warren who doesn't know? Get over yourself, you great oaf, or kill yourself properly, but do it on your own time. Today is special."
With that, she left him. She didn't want an actual skirmish, and it looked like he might be ready to give her one. And she had to admit that little spar had left her satisfied. Akiara knew she couldn't beat Matsuo in a knock-down fight, whether physical or verbal. Getting in a little jab, like she'd done, was the best she could hope for. Now she was ready for the brook. Now she was seething with excitement.
They were gathering in the woods by the uneven spot in the banks, as promised. More birds were swooping overhead than before—well, good. More the merrier. She came to a halt before Coryn and bowed her obeisance, as was proper.
"Akiara," said the great stag.
"Coryn. Good day to you, and yours." She nodded in turn to Wilhelm, Bedelia, and the squirrels on her back. Ringa wasn't there, of course. The coward had just been interested in safety, nothing more. She'd have words for him if this went well. Aside from the birds, no one new today—not even Bedelia's faun she'd mentioned might have an interest. Oh, well. Either things were going bust, or this little club was bound to grow.
"Good day, Akiara," said Kiput. "Are you well?"
"Fueled by anger, that's about as well as I ever am," she replied. She jerked her head upward. "Do the birds have names?"
"Aside from the leaf warblers? They haven't introduced themselves."
"I'm sure they will in time," said Bedelia.
Other animals were used to ignoring birds. Akiara didn't like doing that. She'd been friendly with birds since her kithood. Birds were interesting in ways her own kind wasn't. They were more emotional—lighthearted or fiery. They traveled farther, and easier, than rabbits ever would. But most of all, they had heroes. Rabbits didn't have heroes, to speak of. They had competent, legendary figures, the ones who oversaw mass relocations or sent messages to establish relations from one warren to another. But that was about it. For rabbits, either you were prudent or you were a fool. Akiara liked heroes, and she'd always liked birds.
"Hey," she called upward. "I'm Akiara, from Tall Meadow. What're your names?"
"Tsume," said the brown-headed thrush.
"Aiko," called the chestnut-cheeked starling.
Well, what the heck. "What're you here to see?" Akiara called.
"Something wondrous," replied the thrush.
"Something horrible," responded the starling.
Huh. "I guess one of you'll get your wish," she replied, front paws on a rotting log.
"Suspense," put in Haburo.
"Uncertainty," added Hatsu, wheeling symmetrically with her mate.
Sure. That was good enough.
Itsuko, the muskrat kid, was the last to arrive. Once he showed up, the group started walking downbrook toward where the woods let up. The warblers flew ahead to scout for trouble, and the rest went at a modest pace. Itsuko was clearly scared and couldn't keep moving steadily, so Akiara dropped back to comfort him. "Hey. You're the best member of your family if anyone asks me. Tail up. Come on, don't dawdle. Fun's a-waiting."
The warblers came back and reported that, as arranged, the outsiders were waiting. All right, then. Time to do this. If this turned out to be the last day of Akiara's life, let it be remembered that it was a grand one. They emerged from the woods.
The brown wolf was in front, peering into the brook; his mate was whispering something to him. They all looked up. Akiara felt a pride she'd rarely felt before.
"Well met, wolfkin," said Coryn. That was a nice touch. Wolfkin. She'd never heard that word before, but it seemed to fit. She saw the goat blink and wondered if being called 'wolfkin' was a new one on him, too.
"Hello, everyone!" said the male wolf. "It's good to see you."
The deer bowed. Akiara decided to get a shot in early: "Great to see you too."
The squirrels on Bedelia's back murmured. The warblers chirped. The visitors looked up and saw the extra birds, too.
"You've noticed we have extra company," said Bedelia sweetly.
"Hello," called the goat into the lower sky. The thrush and starling settled to roost on Wilhelm's back; the silly warblers kept flying. Did they ever rest?
"You have a lot of friends," observed the female wolf.
"We strive for unity in this land," said Coryn. "But they are not friends—they merely share our curiosity."
"Yet having eyes in the sky is important," put in Bedelia. "They can send us word of goings on far away." She flared her ears. "Including a certain pursuit on a certain mountainside."
Well, that got a reaction from the newcomers. The wolves looked at each other; the goat stared wide-eyed. "You saw us on the mountain?"
Bedelia bowed. "The birds reported that you spoke truly." She raised her head in pleasure. "You, Mei, really did subject yourself to the hunt. And you, Gabu and Lala, really did seek him. It was my pleasure to learn that no harm befell you."
Mei—that was the goat's name—grinned and walked forward. "It wasn't an easy night, or day." Yeah, Akiara bet! Rock on, goat—had he really put himself in mortal danger just so that his wolf friends could have friends of their own? Was he really going to do it over, and over, and over? This group had balls.
"Yet it has brought you here," replied Coryn.
"Just to be clear," said Kiput. "You are still friends? All of you? Despite hunting for each other last night?"
The goat nodded firmly; the male wolf nodded more frenetically. "Absolutely," said the female.
The birds and squirrels murmured. "We have discussed the matter," said Coryn, "and we are prepared to believe your words—that you, Mei, will join us as our equal on each third day hence."
"Join you?" asked Mei.
"You don't have to actually come where we are," said Wilhelm. "But join us in spirit, yes. As prey."
"A kindred spirit, fleeing the destruction of those we would otherwise call friend," explained Bedelia.
The brown wolf was smiling; the silver one was holding back. "I guess that's true," said Mei. "Does that mean you're willing to spend time with Gabu and Lala now?"
There was a sudden silence. Coryn finally uttered, "It is what we promised," but he left the statement unfinished, and there was clear doubt in his voice. Oh come on.
The starling and thrush looked at each other. So did Wilhelm and Bedelia, Taffet and Kiput. No one said anything.
"…But?" asked the female wolf.
Oh, for goodness sake! Akiara bounded forth. "But nothing. Come on, let's sit together. All of us," she called back, chiding her companions. "I intend to hear some of your stories. I was promised stories."
With painful slowness, the wolves walked forward and sat down next to Akiara. They peered at her—the male with anticipation, the female coolly—and slowly, painfully slowly, the other animals followed. They all sat down in a ragged circle, the squirrels reluctantly springing down from Bedelia's back.
"We are creatures of our word," said Coryn into the stillness. "Wolves of the north—we extend to you our friendship." And, for the first time Akiara could remember, the great stag bowed. About effing time.
The wolves looked delighted. The birds all chirped. Taffet started chirruping in that weird way squirrels had. Akiara thumped on the ground, adding her note to the applause.
"That's wonderful," said the brown wolf, stepping forward. "Uh… is there any more ceremony to do, or should we start talking? I don't know about you, but I'm so excited!"
"You and me both," said Akiara.
"I'll tell you what I'd like," said Taffet, loudly as always. "I'd like to hear Mr. and Mrs. Murderer tell the stories of how they got here."
"Er… yes," said Kiput, beside her. "We had the general tale from Mei the other day… but if we could hear it from the wolves' own lips, so to speak…"
"We'd be only too glad," said the silver wolf, sitting up brightly.
"Sure," said her companion. "It's kind of a long story…"
"A long story may be exactly the cure for a deep-felt unease," said Coryn. "Let us drink first, and then let stories be told."
Now that was more like it. So they all drank, and they gathered again, far enough from the brook for the ground to be dry, and they listened to the outsiders tell their stories. Akiara sat proudly near the middle of the circle and hung on every word. She didn't intend to let this trio feel unwelcome for a moment.
The 29th Evening
"But then again," said Akiara, flipping her attention from one side to the other, "what do you expect the ruler of the wolves, the alpha, told Gabu, when he finally came to visit him in his pit?"
The adolescents were lined up against the ridge, as if it could protect them from a wild and changing world. "They told him the same thing, didn't they?" guessed Shizu. "That he could be free if he went to meet the goat and steal all his information?"
Akiara pounded the ground with a well placed hind paw. "Precisely! In his case, the punishment for refusing was death. But symmetry of symmetries, the wolves had decided just as the goat elders had for Mei—go to your friend and pretend. Squeeze him for everything you can. Steal his secrets and bring them back—and then we'll live happily. And what do you think Gabu said?"
"Sounds like he didn't have a choice," said Jakka.
"Not much choice indeed," Akiara agreed, spinning back the other way. She loved how the ground was lit with different shades in each direction, casting the audience in moonlight and shadow. The moon was full and the air was warm tonight—perfect for storytelling. They tried to coop her up in the Big Burrow but she'd insisted a story like this had to be told topside. "It was agree to betray his friend, or die. But mind—in case you're thinking Gabu should just run away with Mei." She contorted one side of her face darkly, evoking a scarred eye. "The alpha promised that if he tried, they would chase him to the end of the earth, and find him, and kill him. 'A traitor to the pack must die.'" She flashed her teeth at the adults, then the adolescents and kits. "So was the rule they lived by. And so they told Gabu."
"He should have spat in the alpha's unholy face," moaned Matsuo, raising his huge body over the audience. Ringa turned around and told him, rather gracelessly, to shut up.
"He was at the bottom of a pit!" retorted Akiara, whirling. "His spittle wouldn't have grazed the surface! And he'd have died for nothing. So! Imagine the day—a warm but stormy day last fall, so overcast the sky was like ash. The two friends met at the edge of the forest and agreed to walk by the river—but all the while, eyes were watching them. Eyes of wolves from one direction, eyes of goats from another, and the eyes of the forest creatures all around. And the two of them were keenly aware…"
Akiara's parents were there at the corner of the group, huddling against each other as they listened. They were terrified for Akiara and she knew it. But she didn't intend to change her life one whit for them. Not anymore. She spun the story out and on, until goat and wolf were likewise huddled in a little snow cave in the mountains… and she realized that she'd seldom if ever felt so alive. This was her best storytime yet—because it was true, so far as she knew—every word of it! Or, no. It wasn't the truth of the tale that made it powerful. It was the fact it was near. It was that it was still unfolding.
The air was warm that night. But as she described the wolf's desperate struggle to keep the goat alive through an interminable blizzard, it seemed like every flank and haunch in the field was shivering with chill.
Good. This was just how Akiara liked it.
A/N: Welcome to the third and final part of this novel! I'm excited. Are you excited? Just to keep things fresh, let's start out with a brand new point-of-view character! Back at the end of Part I, I really thought I would only ever have three POV characters, but plans change, and characters worm their way into authors' brains. Long ago, I admit I had my mind a bit blown when, near the very end of Watership Down, Richard Adams suddenly abandoned the point of view he'd been writing for like 23 chapters in order to justify a deus ex machina. I put that in my toolbox! Except that here, of course, I'm suddenly jumping into a rabbit's head rather than out of it.
And how about that Bepo? It said yet another five word sentence, and one that's seven words, if you allow the ellipsis! The vole's becoming downright loquacious. Then again, its take on evolutionary pressures is woefully incomplete…
``(o.o)``
