Sunlight was flooding through the windows when I arrived in the dining room for breakfast. It was a languid, insipid sort of day—the village was unendurably quite with Auster and most of the men away on the harvest, and as my parents had eaten some hours beforehand, I was alone when there came a knock at the door, which the maid moved to answer. A moment later she appeared and said, "Miss Maribel, some guests are here to see you."
I was honestly at a loss as to who it could be before in came the stout form of the halfling woodcutter, and along with him, the wild boy Ruff. Ruff was not quite so tiny as he had once been, although not yet surpassing the height of his guardian, and he wore his cloak over a linen shirt and some trousers. I remembered him as an energetic and talkative youth, which is why it seemed odd how still he was standing, as though his mind were on other things.
The woodcutter removed his hat respectfully. "Good morning, Miss Maribel," he said. I rose from my seat in order to return the greeting.
"Are you going to eat all that?" Ruff said. His face came alive as he spotted the fish buns on my plate. I rolled my eyes as I pushed the food toward him. He jumped up onto the seat next to me, took a bun in each hand and gobbled them fiercely. My black cat, attracted by the smell as she often was, jumped on the table and crept toward the plate, but Ruff bared his teeth and growled from the back of his throat. The cat hissed and scurried off with bristled fur.
"Ruff," said the woodcutter, "do you want to see if the maid has any crackers for you?"
Ruff, to his credit, had the awareness to look to me and say, "Can I, Maribel?" I gave my assent, and off he went into the kitchen, with the cat skulking behind him.
"Good kid," the woodcutter said, then, "Is it alright if I sit?"
"Certainly," I said. He took the seat across from me.
"He's stronger than he looks at his size, you know. You should see the deftness by which he hefts my large axe over his head. I suppose it's no surprise, for the amount he eats."
"Exactly as I remember," I said. "You're training him to follow in your trade, then?"
"Indeed, I am. Our lifestyle agrees with him."
"Does he ever go to the city?"
"I've taken him with me on occasion when I went to sell off the wood. I once left him to play with some other children, but they didn't take kindly to him. They made fun of his appearance and mannerisms. He bit one of them."
"I see," was about the only follow-up I could think of.
"Right," he went on. "Let me tell you of the reason for our visit. You remember the boy's … mother, do you not?"
In fact it took me a moment to comprehend that he was referring to the wolf who was Ruff's constant companion. It seemed that, for all the time I knew him as a human, it was ever-more difficult to conceive of his having been a wolf cub, and the wolf his adoptive nurturer.
"Yes, I remember her," I said.
"I'm sorry to have to bring you sad news today. The poor girl's died."
This, too, took a moment to comprehend.
"She and Ruff liked to sleep all curled up on this straw mat I have—I have built them a bed, but they don't prefer it—but while they usually appeared for breakfast together, this morning he was alone. When I asked him about it, he didn't answer, and so I went and saw her lying inert, like she was sleeping late. It must have happened in the night."
I sat stupidly for a moment, gawking. I couldn't connect the words he was speaking to the wolf I had traveled alongside. Dead in the night … I hadn't noticed any frailness in her as she carried her charge into battle against ravenous monsters. Could she really have been older than all of us realized, and had her fatigue caught up with her now, a year after our victories? Ruff had seemed distracted when he walked in, but he'd perked right up when he saw my food, and so I assumed that whatever had ailed him was minor.
"How is Ruff, um …"
"I'm not sure," the woodcutter said. "Even though he's been human longer than he was ever a wolf, it can still be hard to read him at times, as he doesn't always react to things in the expected way. That's why I brought him here. You traveled a good part of the world with him, so it may well be that you know him better than anyone. Could you spend some time with him and try to ascertain his thoughts? At least keep him away while I dig the grave and build a coffin. We'll bury her all proper-like, as we would any member of our own families."
I know him better than anyone, indeed … I felt certain he would be having this conversation with Auster, or even Aishe, were they not both preengaged. Here I sat as his very last resort. Still, it was true that I had been a long way with Ruff, and a lady did not shrink from responsibility when it came her way. It was then that Ruff returned with a bowl full of crackers, the cat still on his heels.
"Ruff!" I said at once. "I'm so glad you've come. It happens that I've no plans at the moment, and I was consigned to a day of dreary monotony just when you arrived. I would be pleased immensely if you joined me on a trip to the sea."
He looked at me over the bowl in his arms before a grin crossed his face. "Yeah!" he said. "The sea! Let's go to the sea!"
Thus was decided our day's diversion. We transferred the crackers into a basket and set off for the beaches along the southern tip of the island. The sun was high and the day was warm, and scarcely had we stepped on the sand when Ruff near-instantly divest himself of his clothing, seeming to leap from the fabric as a lizard does from its skin. He bounded straight for the waterline, and as he appeared quite eager enough for the both of us, I shed my outer dress, set down a blanket, and laid for a time in the sun. I may have dozed, for it seemed to me not long before Ruff was on the sand again, panting and dripping saltwater. He sat and took hold of a handful of crackers.
"Are you coming in the water, Maribel?" he said.
I was content to remain where I was if I was being honest, but I remembered that I was here not only to occupy his time but to get a grasp of his mental state, if I could. I shook the sun-induced stupor from my eyes and ate a few crackers myself. He ran straight back into the sea and dove, but I stopped with the surface around my ankles. It was cold enough to chill one's very spirit.
"Maribel, look!" Ruff shouted when I emerged. "The water's so clear! You can see rainbow-colored fish!"
Without much alternative, I sucked in a breath and plunged my head into the icy depths. Ruff dove again, and glittering scales scattered in many directions. He chased more creatures after that, and retrieved rocks and coral and such from the sea floor, until the both of us thoroughly exhausted.
"I hear you're learning to cut wood," I said, when we were back ashore.
"That's right. It's really hard, though."
"How are you enjoying your life, all the way out there?"
"It's great! There's lots of animals, and so much space!"
"How about meeting other people? Do you go to the city?"
"Sometimes. The cabin's good enough for me." He looked over the water as he said this.
"We visited many towns while we were traveling, remember? We met all different kinds of people."
"That's true. But that was with Auster. Everything was all right as long as we had him to lead the way."
That was more true than I cared to admit. It was funny how it had taken an entire journey for me to realize my affection for the scatterbrained boy I grew up with, who could hardly leave his house without forgetting his shoes and yet had set forth on a quest to oppose the Demon King. He had been the leader of our band, not because he was the strongest or smartest of us, for he was neither. It was because he was possessed of the heroic spirit, the resolve to put one foot in front of the other, to always be moving toward the next destination and the next battle until the very last monster was slain. The rest of us recognized this instinctively, I think, and so we followed him, each borrowing a bit of his boundless energy, when any of us on our own may have given up somewhere along the way.
Ruff was still staring across the ocean. His expression looked increasingly of pain and confusion, and as I felt somewhat responsible for the direction of his thoughts, I spoke the first words I could think of to put his mind on a new track.
"Let's go to the city," I said.
He turned his head toward me, but didn't say anything.
"Come on. I'll buy you some roast beef and ale at my favorite pub."
The mention of food brought the spark back to his face. It was well into the afternoon that we arrived in town. Tom, my favorite barman, was on duty, and so Ruff and I chose two seats thereabout.
"Afternoon," Tom said to me. "You brought your, um, your little brother today?"
I furrowed my brows at him. "Do we look anything alike? No. This is a friend of mine. His name is Ruff."
Tom looked blankly at me and said, "As in, it's hard to say?"
This gave me pause until I realized his mistake. "No, it's his name. Ruff, as in the sound that … Nevermind. Bring us two ales and roast beef."
He brought us the frothy drinks forthwith. I shouted, "Cheers!" as we lifted them into the air. Ruff took a draft and reacted in the usual way of children having their first taste of alcohol.
"It's like boiled shoe leather," he said.
"One acquires a liking for it," I said. We drank in small sips until the meat arrived, which Ruff ate ravenously with both hands. The place was starting to get very crowded, which was quite how I liked things. The merry spirit which was building there was as intoxicating to me as the drink. I spotted a couple of handsome boys just arriving, one with dark hair and the other blonde. I called to them.
"Yoohoo! Would you care to join me?" They both grinned widely as they came over.
"Hello there," said the blonde one. "How's a fine lady doing this evening?"
"Wonderfully," I said, "only wanting a little company."
"Well, that's—" and their attention was diverted by Ruff's enthusiastic feeding. Grease was running down his chin and over his hands.
"Sorry," said the dark-haired one. "We didn't realize you were … indisposed."
"This is my friend," I said. "He, too, would be much pleasured by your—"
"I think we have to be going. It was nice meeting you!"
They hurried off. Ruff seemed hardly to have noticed the exchange, so absorbed was he in his meal, but I was rather bitterly disappointed, so it was with fury beyond my control that I raised my voice and cried, "Slink away, then! Gutless cowards! If it weren't for this boy, you'd be swabbing latrines for the Demon King right now!"
Ruff cleaned his plate and drank more freely as the alcohol loosened him up. We talked and laughed through several tankards until, without warning, he was taken with a somber appearance.
"Don't worry about those boys from earlier," I said. "They wouldn't know good company if they were confined in a Lips dungeon for thirty years."
"What?" Ruff said. "Oh. Yes, I know. It's alright."
He looked like he had more on his mind than those boys. I was taking on a bit of his mood myself, for I remembered my feelings of lethargy in the aftermath of our journey. It had been hard enough for me to return to my familiar, comfortable home life—I could hardly imagine his experience, having had no human life at all prior to joining us, being now tasked with constructing an identity in the peaceful world he helped create. But what if that didn't have to be quite yet? What if the journey could go on for just a little while longer?
A devilish idea was forming in my head.
"Ruff," I said. "I just remembered something I've forgotten to tell you. There's a monster still alive, here on this island."
The light in his eyes was as one who spies an enormous birthday cake all for them. Seizing a pen and paper, I drew out the general shape of the island and indicated, by some angled peaks, the mountain range running through the center.
"Two nights ago,"—I pointed to the mountains—"a couple of prospectors claim they were around here when they heard the roar of a great creature, after which they were chased from the site by the thing itself. They describe an enormous reptile with two heads baring sharp teeth, discharging toxic slime from beneath every scale. They were fortunate to reach the base safely. The king is searching his ranks for soldiers strong and brave enough to form a contingent to confront the beast, but I happen to know someone strong and brave enough for twenty soldiers."
"Who's that?" he said, my allusion deflecting off of him in his excitement.
"Yourself, of course, and me as well. What trouble could one slimy lizard be against two who defeated Gracos in the sunken city, and his descendant? We'll make short work of this business and be back in time for bed, and perhaps even earn a reward for saving the king the trouble."
"Yes!" he said, practically bursting with elation. "Let's do it! What are you waiting for? Let's go!" He leapt from his stool so quickly that I hardly had time to leave the gold on the counter before I went after him.
The sky was already hued orange. I had rather craftily chosen one of the easier climbing spots, but Ruff didn't seem to care as he mounted the rocks, radiating joy. This wasn't quite like crawling through monster-infested caverns in strange, dark lands, but it did bring about a bit of the old nostalgia in me. We scoured every cave we could find, until the sun was low and my feet ached. When there was nowhere else to look, and I could hardly go another step, I sat on a rock and said, "I suppose someone got to him first. Let's be vigilant in case any more turn up."
Ruff didn't react or respond, but only sat in front of me, with his feet out and his hands on the ground in that canine fashion. I reclined on the rock and looked out toward the seas to the south. Far out on the horizon, I could see the faint outlines of distant islands, islands which wouldn't have been there if I'd come to this spot only a few years ago. I was sad to be at the end of our journey, but was the world not immeasurably better off because we'd seen it through to the end?
"Perhaps peace isn't so bad, after all," I said.
Presently a noise reached our ears which arrested Ruff's attention. It was the howl of a wolf, followed closely by others—a pack of them, not so great a distance off. With cautious movements, Ruff rose up onto all fours and crept like an animal toward the sound.
He crawled through the bush as silently as a mouse, I following behind him. We came upon a clearing in which sat five gray wolves, all howling toward the darkening sky. Ruff watched them intently until, by sound or scent, they became aware of us and fled. Ruff crawled out into to the center of the now-empty clearing, then threw his head back and bellowed a howl of his own from deep within his core. He howled thunderously, again and again, as though desperate to hold back the silence which threatened to swallow him. Fat tears formed in his eyes, and he howled on in spite of them, howled even as they fell. At last his exhausted voice gave out. He collapsed face-forward, and his tears flowed freely into the soil.
I'd never seen Ruff cry before. It's a peculiarly human habit which he'd hitherto been spared, but now his sobs rang out without inhibition or subtlety. I was heartsick to see him this way, but I wasn't sure if he wanted my comfort or if he preferred space. I erred toward the latter and sat a small distance away.
He cried out every bit of his strength, and at the end of it he lay quiet on the earth, like the dying embers of a fire. It was getting distressingly well into the night, and I found myself with little choice but to walk up and prod him. His eyes were shut.
"Ruff, it's time to go," I said.
He groaned in the way of one who doesn't want to rise from his bed. I fought back a twinge of aggravation.
"Ruff, come on. We need to leave before it gets any darker." There was no response. "I swear, if I have to carry you, I'll—" and no sooner were the words out of my mouth than came the realization that there wasn't going to be another way. I took him by one hand, then the other, and hooking his arms around my neck, lifted him up onto my back. He was a good deal heavier than expected, and going downhill all that way was no small task, if I may say so. But it wasn't for nothing that I'd climbed the Ventus Tower all the way to that altar in the sky. It was well past full darkness when we made it to the woodcutter's hut, the firelit windows tiny beacons in the night. I put Ruff to sleep on his familiar straw mat and draped the woolen blanket over him.
I returned early the next morning for the funeral. The wolf was laid in an oaken casket with all the dignity one could expect, on her belly with her feet tucked in close, like she was taking a quick nap on a hardwood floor. The lid was off, to start, as it was important for us to see her committed to the ground and so not be plagued with the sense that she'd simply disappeared. In time, the lid was shut and nailed into place, and the woodcutter and I, each holding the ropes in both hands, gently lowered the box into the grave. Ruff only watched all this without making a sound. It was a strange thought, but he didn't look at all to me like a child outliving his mother. Rather he looked like he was burying his first pet.
When all was done, the woodcutter offered me tea and cakes as thanks for my help. I was just leaving to return home when I heard a thwack and saw that Ruff had chosen to occupy himself with the splitting of firewood. He had dispensed with his shirt and cloak, and thus bare-chested, was carrying out his task with impressive tenacity, placing the wood and then lifting and dropping the axe with unwavering rhythm in spite of the perspiration drenching his body. For the first time, I noticed how defined his muscles were becoming, and it struck me then that the wolf pup who had been magically turned into a boy was rapidly becoming a man. Would his wild and carefree nature soon make him irresistible to girls of his age—would he in fact be something of a dreamboat for not a few of them? I admit that the thought brought me some amusement. He was grieving now, but I believed he would discover much to love about being human in the not so distant future.