Chapter 11
"Sympathy"
I must remain calm, because whenever the words "Mother, come quickly" rang out from the front of the pack, I knew it was my composure and wisdom that was needed. I trotted ahead of the pups, past some of the others. They stopped to create an invisible pathway for me to follow. They watched my progress intently, so I knew whatever it was, it was something they had never seen before. My nose wrinkled at the smell of sour flesh. I wanted to sneeze it out, but then I would lose other details that might help me understand what I was coming to. I approached a length of the Yawning River. Its mud never failed to give off a wet earthy scent, but it was normally filled with richness instead of rot. There was metal too. From blood and from the earth. I caught feint markings of Mighty Hena.
At once, I understood, but the sight still gave me pause.
I emerged onto the riverbank where Alpha and some of the Blessed were waiting. They glanced at me, then back at the bank, but my eyes never left what was in front of me. A pair of Striking Beasts were on the riverbank between the waters and the grasses. They were smaller Hena with sleek short green and yellow fur. They were uncommon in the grasslands, but not unheard of, preferring higher and drier climates and other spots where lightning gathered. They roamed more often than they settled, chasing storms and catching lightning as often as they could. The friction of the grass against their fur often generated enough energy to make them spark.
Because of this, staying in the grasslands during growing season was dangerous and often overwhelming, so they did not come through often. They were especially quick when charged, but apparently not quick enough. One of the Striker's had their leg caught in an Iron Mouth. It was the first I had ever seen. It was indeed like a mouth, but made entirely of metal, from its jaws to its sharp pointed teeth. They pivoted around a spring and had a matching chain attached to a stake in the ground. It was clamped around the Striker's body up to the hip. The captured Striker could not move from the spot. His eyes were dull and his breathing slow and labored.
Blood stained his hip and the ground underneath. The bleeding had been slow, but constant, caking the fur on his leg with overlapping trails. Every time he moved, the scabs broke free and the wound reopened, pumping out a fresh glistening trail of blood. The rigid frame of the Iron Mouth held up the Striker's body, and whatever wasn't clamped in place, slumped over towards the ground. His screaming had long since ended. Either from sheer exhaustion or a ruptured throat. It was hard to tell which when blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.
Judging by the larger crown, the Striker caught in the Iron Mouth was indeed a male. The one standing defensively beside him must have been his mate because she refused to leave his side. Her eyes were bloodshot. The charred brittleness of her fur alluded to extensive and frequent surges of electricity. The fact that she did not spark at our appearance meant her energy was spent. No doubt from fighting off those attracted to the sounds and smells of death. I leaned in with my nose, searching for a particular scent. It was hard to find between the decay and urine, but I smelt Warrior's mark. This was one of the Iron Mouths the Wandering Mighty Hena had found. But being so close to the river, the waters might have risen over it and weakened the scent.
Strikers did not have as keen of smell as other Hena. They might have never caught the warning. They were much better at sensing energy and movement from the pressure changes in the air. But the Iron Mouth was a sedentary danger. It might as well have been invisible. I glanced above the spot. Flies were beginning to swarm. It would not be long now until the natural magnetic pulse that radiated from all Striking Beasts failed and let them in.
The female growled and snarled at us, snapping her teeth while glancing around at the pack encircling her. The mud beneath her was stamped with a thousand paw marks. The surrounding earth was smooth and shiny except for a small trail that led to the water where the female had risked taking a drink. Her mate was dying and she refused to leave his side. Some creatures were like that. Most moved on quickly. A rare few held ceremonies for their dead. Her guttural warnings filled the riverbank, warding off the tense silence I knew she was truly trying to keep away instead of us. She would scream until her heart burst to make it so.
The Iron Mouth only caught one of them, but it might as well have been two.
Drool fell from the Striker's jawline. Foam began to collect in the corners of her mouth. Crusted spittle dusted her lips. I saw blood speckled on her side. It was not her own. The nails on her paws were chipped. Salt stained her face. It was neither beautiful nor easy to watch a loved one die.
"What should we do?" Keen Eye asked as he walked up beside Alpha and I.
He kept his head low and tread quiet, eyes always on the female. He did not trust her. None of us did. Not when grief and fear and desperation pushed her to the edge of madness.
The simple answer was to do nothing. The wild could not be controlled. But this was not the wild at work. It was something else. Something the Mighty Hena had vowed to stop. And now others, unaware and unable to fight against it, were pulled in. Our indifference would not change anything. There was no need to hesitate. Only continue on. This was something out of our influence. But Alpha would not have stopped if he believed this was the way. He wanted to do something. Maybe elevate ourselves to the height of our Spirit and intervene on behalf of the Striking Beasts. As Alpha, he was powerful enough to do so. We could kill the male and put it out of its misery. Maybe even the female too, so great was her pain, to spare her the torment.
Some might call it mercy, but they would be arrogant. Mercy was not balanced. It never was. This would be killing for killings sake and I would not let the pack do such a thing. I glanced around at the others who had formed a wide circle around the scene. They understood all paths we could take, but held their distance, waiting for Alpha to decide, but Alpha was quiet. All of us were quiet as the male regained some of his senses from the depth of his mate's distress. He weakly tried to move, to run as his species was meant to, but even the slightest twitch aggravated his festering wounds. He cried out, voice weakening to a whimper that called to his mate for help.
I felt him plead to their Spirit, but it could not answer because it was too weak to fight against the evil that had snatched them up.
The female forgot us as she nudged and nuzzled and whined, trying to comfort her mate despite the pain she felt in her heart. The pain that was just as obvious as his own. We watched, unable to look away, as the exchange brought nothing but more pain and blood and tears. I glanced to my side where Omega had followed me. His jaw had dropped and his lips were pulled back. Both ears were flattened and long tracks ran down his eyes. The black mask did little to hide the pain on his face as he listened to the Strikers' cries.
I wondered what it would be like if we could hear them too. Then again, I did not have to imagine. I already knew.
"Mother," Alpha whispered beside me.
I leaned in close. He kept his eyes on the Strikers for much different reasons. He saw what I saw, and although his face did not show it, he too felt what I felt, because he was also my pup.
"What can we do?" he asked and I saw so much of Father in him that my heart sank to the bottom of my soul.
I would not let him fall so far out of balance like Father. I would not let him show mercy. Suffering must come to us all. It was inevitable.
But we could lessen it a little.
"Tell the others to keep their distance," I said, coming up with an idea.
It was unprecedented, but so was our dilemma. The only thing we could do was what we ourselves practiced.
"We will keep watch until the time comes."
It was done for me when Father died and I was grateful for it. There was comfort in knowing I could be with him without worry, so we would do the same now, but Striking Beasts were not accustomed to the presence of Mighty Hena. It would not help if they continued to see us as a threat.
Alpha nodded and glanced at Keen Eye who left to quietly spread the message. I then turned back to Omega. His expression had calmed now that we were committed to help in what little way we could, but the remnants of his empathy were there. I pitied him for it, but I also knew it was part of his gift. A gift I was about to put to the test.
"Come with me and listen," I told him. "If they speak, tell me what they say."
Omega paused and stared at me a moment before something lifted in him. It swirled and settled into a solid sturdy thing that I recognized as the foundation of his self. His gift's true purpose was finally starting to show. He nodded, blinking away the last of his tears. Together, we slowly approached the Strikers. I was not worried about Omega. His presence was very small and unimposing, but mine was not so. I could not weaken it or shrink it. The Spirit was too full within me. I could not stop others from being overwhelmed by it. No matter my intent, the Strikers might only see the darkness all living creatures feared, the shadow of death billowing behind me, so I must try to convince them of our purpose.
The female saw us coming and returned to her defensive position, snarling and foaming and so close to cursing that my heart throbbed against the weight of her hatred. Omega and I paused, then slowly stepped forward again, easing closer to the boundaries of her tolerance. When I felt them grow taunt, we stopped. The Striker continued to flare and growl and postulate, but I held our ground. Eventually, she paused to cough and gasp for what little air she needed to start up again.
"We do no harm," I said, reaching into my memory to use the words of the Striking Beasts. "We watch for you. Protect."
My eyes drifted down to the male.
"Till the end."
All Hena spoke similar tongues, so I was confident I said them right, but that didn't mean the Striker would believe me. She was suspicious of, not surprised by, my offer. Hena did not normally intervene on one another's behalf, so I did not blame her, especially under such circumstances, but I did not require her trust. Omega glanced at me. In that look, I saw no answer from the Striker, so I turned to leave and fulfill our promise whether she liked it or not. If needed, I would tell Alpha and he would push the others back so that she could not see or hear us.
"Wait," Omega called.
I stopped and watched him turn to the Striker. She had regained some of herself and no longer growled. Her eyes were still sharp with caution, but they were tired. So tired that she was willing to lower her guard to rest them.
"She asks, what then?" Omega phrased. "At what cost is your protection?"
She probably thought of us as ghouls, aiming to claim her mate's corpse when he finally took his last breath and she no longer had reason to stay. Hena did not normally prey on Hena, but when times were lean, it was not unheard of. Some of his flesh was putrid, but not all. It was much easier to be patient and wait for his passing than to challenge her for it. It would not be long now anyway. I lowered my head. This time, I did not want to look at them, but I must. I owed it to all I had lost to remember.
"The price has already been paid," I told her, and the look on her face changed.
She saw the truth behind my eyes and understood my sympathy, but she could not believe it, and thus, remained where she was in silence. I motioned at Omega and he quickly came up beside me as we left. The Strikers deserved privacy in these last moments. Alpha followed us into the coverage, barely making a sound as he passed through the grasses.
"I will keep watch at the day," I offered, because I was one of the few that could withstand the light.
Looking forward also kept me from looking back.
"I want to see the sun."
Alpha granted my request and left with Omega to tell the others of our watch and assign positions. I heard an owl hoot in the distance. I could not see it in the dark, but knew it was watching. Waiting. Not long after, the pack drove away its first scavenger. As the Striker's breath drew quieter and quieter, more and more creatures were drawn to the site. The whispers of death screamed loudly in the night. All manner of bird and beast and worm tried to find their way to an easy meal, but none expected the Mighty Hena to be there watching over one that was not our own, especially after the sun came up. None made it past our guard.
Several Chatter Rats wasted their lives trying to feed off of another's. The other carrion eaters made quick work of them, finding reward for their journey. When our presence became clear, the incursions ended. Soft moans occasionally rustled the grasses like a breeze. Eventually, the crying stopped. I was up, keeping watch in the day while the others slept, when I heard a string of whimpers thread itself across the river. These sounds were different than the others. Still quiet and condensed, but heavier and sharper. When they ended, silence followed and I knew the male to be dead.
Our watch was over.
I got up and searched out the other two Mighty Hena helping me keep watch. Tired Eye was sitting by the water further up the river. He slept little so he always had a tired look about him, but his attention was never dull because of it. He was not Blessed, but his endless fatigue made him a good watcher and one of the few able to keep track of me during the day. I told him of the Striker's passing and he followed me to where Phantom Back was pawing around some reeds. He was named so because his mane was stiff and short and jagged like the backs of Phantoms that drifted through the hollows. Like Tired Eye, he was not gifted, but he was good Mighty Hena, unafraid of the light. He took the news quietly and we returned to the riverbank where the Iron Mouth was waiting.
The female was gone, but the male remained, no longer bound by his pain. To send him off and ensure he joined the Spirit, the three of us raised a howl. It sounded different in the day. Softer and shorter and so strange that all other creatures of the light would know something had happened. Afterwards, Tired Eye and Phantom Back somberly walked off to return to the pack and get what rest they could. At dusk, we would continue following the trail of the Touring Bulls. Omega slipped between Tired Eye and Phantom Back from the opposite direction and trotted towards me. I was not surprised to see him awake at such light hours given he walked the same path as me every day, but I did not expect to see such purpose in his eyes.
"Mother, do not leave yet," he said.
He then looked back and the female Striker poked her head out of the grasses, cautiously waiting until the others were gone before revealing herself. She tentatively stepped out onto the bank, quickly gaining courage when it was just the three of us. I noticed that her eyes did not turn to the body of her mate. She had resolved herself to his fate and closed off that portion of her heart. I did not know what Striking Beasts made of love, but I knew healing heartbreak when I saw it. She was ready to move on.
I envied her strength.
The Striker came up beside Omega and stood next to him as if she had walked the same path. She stared at me, but could not hold my gaze long. When she dropped it, she glanced over at Omega. He turned to me with her voice.
"She says Mother is very wise to know the tongues of other Hena, but she herself is not so," he said. "She cannot speak like Shadow Backs, so she came to me to intercede on her behalf."
I wanted to smile. Omega had come so far in his gift that he no longer realized when he used it. He did not even realize that he sounded different when he listened and emanated the tongues of others.
"Because of you and your promise," he went on, fully acclimating to her speech. "I could drink and rest and grieve without worry. I could not have done so without your help."
He then paused, switching back to his perspective with the introduction of newer, more complex words.
"She says she would have given in to curses had you not come. The Iron Mouth, claimed his life, but not her soul. She is grateful and will return to her pack now."
Hearing the words aloud reenergized the Striker's conviction. She looked strongly at Omega. He stared compassionately back at her. She then looked at me, no longer wavering. I returned her glance, acknowledging her and her words. The Striker then turned away, started toward the grasses, and picked up speed. Static popped as the blades rubbed against her fur, and with a propelled leap, she darted away with an electrified crack. The grasses waved at the ghost of her passing, quickly settling. The echo of her bolting sprint startled a Brown Owl out of hiding. It watched it fly away, winking against the light before walking with Omega to join the others. There was no point guarding the dead.
We must keep to the living and make sure nothing like this ever happens again.
