Yakkul galloped over the trail as Ashitaka left the course to him and gazed
around at the towering trees that whisked by. This forest had given rise
to the demon that cursed him, the spirit who lifted that curse, and to a
white wolf god of great wisdom and great foolishness. All of them were
gone now, but so much was still here. Sometimes he let himself wonder if
there was a place for humans here, someplace here where he could live.
But not this night. Normally the kodamas, the little tree spirits, greeted him with a rattling of their heads. Tonight the trees sat silent - dark, still shapes that loomed overhead.
He was riding through the remains of the old Irontown now, not abandoned long but long enough that usually the kodamas would wander in and out of crumbling huts and watch him from moss-covered roof beams. Tonight they were nowhere to be seen, and the fallen watchtower lay with its columns splayed every which-way, like the limbs of a crushed insect. There seemed to be no life in this ghost town - nothing, as the monk Jigo had put it, but angry ghosts all around us.
Suddenly, Yakkul reared up and Ashitaka gave a shout of confusion - "Yakkul! Easy, boy! Easy! What's the matter?" He clung to the bridle but the red elk kept bucking away from the path, ignoring his master's pleas. Ashitaka let go of the reins and was flung into the air.
He landed hard on the path, bruised but not defeated, and saw Yakkul gallop a short distance to a nearby river, still bristling.
"What's got into you?" Ashitaka demanded, betrayed and bewildered. The animal paced a bit, then snorted and looked back silently.
Ashitaka turned. That was the ruin of the old forge behind him. Without thinking, he clutched his right arm - he'd never seen any kodamas in there at all. Even Yakkul was afraid. "Yakkul! Come here, boy! We've leaving! If you won't stay, neither will I!"
He was halfway to Yakkul when he stopped, frightened. He'd heard a voice - with his name on it. There it was again - his name, called out like something between a greeting and a cry for help - and he knew that voice.
"San!" he shouted back. "Is that you?" He ran up to the black, yawning entrance to the old forge. It couldn't be safe for humans to go in there.
The voice again - clearer, definitely San's. She was somewhere in that forge, hidden in the murk. "San! I'm here!" he called back to the darkness. "I'm coming!"
He found his way from the entrance with small steps, tensed in case he ran into something truly dangerous. Rough iron sands were piled beneath his feet, and the dead, half-melted forge seemed to breathe a cold wind down the back of his neck.
It was cold here, almost frigid - it couldn't be this cold, not at this time of the year. He stumbled over the wreck of the bellows in its pit, then found a place where moonlight fell in still blue patches. Huddled under the forge's monstrous shape was a shimmering, flowing blanket of wolf fur, white and spectral. "San - what's happened? Are you hurt?"
Her eyes suddenly appeared out of the darkness - she wasn't on the floor beneath the wolfskin, she was kneeling there, shivering in her simple fur tunic and skirt. "Here," he offered, starting to take off his kimono, "take this."
Her answer was simple and gentle: "Keep that off me, I don't want to go back smelling like a human." He stopped, surprised. San used to say things like that in anger, outraged at the thought of wearing a filthy human garment. Looking straight at her, he spoke again. "What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting me in Moro's valley, at dawn."
"A kodama led me here."
"A kodama! So they are still around here. I haven't seen any tonight."
"I've been waiting for you, Ashitaka. I wanted you to see her."
"See who?"
San answered by pulling back the wolfskin partway, and cradled in her lap was a face that struck him to the core: a girl, no older than six or seven, emaciated and hollow-eyed. Her skin was pale, paler than a corpse's - she could almost have been the ghost of one of the villagers he'd had to bury.
Cautiously, he put his hand out. When San nodded, he felt the girl's forehead. Cold as stone. "Is she alive?"
The wolf-girl was speaking through chattering teeth now. "She's alive. She'll stay alive."
The girl's eyes sprang open, wide and black, almost springing from their sockets. Leaning closer, San murmured some soothing words and the eyes closed again. Ashitaka felt an impulse well up to jerk his hand away in horror. Instead, he kept it there, feeling his warmth bleed into the half- starved girl. "What happened to her?"
Now San spoke with anger. "Abandoned. By the humans! The people under that gun-woman."
Ashitaka slowly turned his head. "San . . . there have never been any children in Irontown. Not now, not then."
She pretended she didn't hear. "I'm taking her with me. She'll be a daughter of the wolf clan - Moro made me her daughter, I can make her mine. The next Princess Mononoke." There was something in her voice that was indescribably sad - something full of pride and genuine caring that made Ashitaka's heart pause. She went on: "Help me bring her up. I can't do it alone, and my brothers would be useless. Will you help me, Ashitaka."
The girl's eyes opened again, and this time the Emishi warrior pulled his hand back. He felt almost sick about what he had to say: "San, you can't." She answered by leaning consolingly over the girl again. "San - look at her eyes!"
She did - and gasped. There was fire in those eyes - smoldering red coals of hate. "She's not human!" Ashitaka cried. "She is a mononoke!"
The girl's skin turned elastic - her face distorted - she bulged and grew into something bloated, black, horrific. San scrambled away and sprang up, one hand on the knife she had made from a wolf's fang.
The whole forge baked beneath a flood of lurid orange light - the air shimmered, even though it was still freezing - and the smell - the smell made them stagger, made them nauseous - the overpowering stench of something burning. Tall grass shriveled and died - roof beams turned to charcoal.
Ashitaka gave a yell and ripped his scabbard off - his sword was glowing red. It fell among the weeds, smoking, then rose into the air on its own. The monstrous apparition rumbled a noise that sounded like joy and the sword was raised for a slash.
A female shout - San's battle-cry - rattled Ashitaka's nerve. The sword swung and the wolf princess jumped forward to strike back.
Sparks exploded and San's scream made him cringe. She crumpled against the fragile wooden wall and her knife clattered to the ground, scorched. The bloated thing with the fearsome eyes raised the sword.
Ashitaka leapt between them. "Calm yourself!" he pleaded. "Calm yourself and move your sword closer!" He held one small object in his hand, upraised as if to defend them.
A single dry twig.
But not this night. Normally the kodamas, the little tree spirits, greeted him with a rattling of their heads. Tonight the trees sat silent - dark, still shapes that loomed overhead.
He was riding through the remains of the old Irontown now, not abandoned long but long enough that usually the kodamas would wander in and out of crumbling huts and watch him from moss-covered roof beams. Tonight they were nowhere to be seen, and the fallen watchtower lay with its columns splayed every which-way, like the limbs of a crushed insect. There seemed to be no life in this ghost town - nothing, as the monk Jigo had put it, but angry ghosts all around us.
Suddenly, Yakkul reared up and Ashitaka gave a shout of confusion - "Yakkul! Easy, boy! Easy! What's the matter?" He clung to the bridle but the red elk kept bucking away from the path, ignoring his master's pleas. Ashitaka let go of the reins and was flung into the air.
He landed hard on the path, bruised but not defeated, and saw Yakkul gallop a short distance to a nearby river, still bristling.
"What's got into you?" Ashitaka demanded, betrayed and bewildered. The animal paced a bit, then snorted and looked back silently.
Ashitaka turned. That was the ruin of the old forge behind him. Without thinking, he clutched his right arm - he'd never seen any kodamas in there at all. Even Yakkul was afraid. "Yakkul! Come here, boy! We've leaving! If you won't stay, neither will I!"
He was halfway to Yakkul when he stopped, frightened. He'd heard a voice - with his name on it. There it was again - his name, called out like something between a greeting and a cry for help - and he knew that voice.
"San!" he shouted back. "Is that you?" He ran up to the black, yawning entrance to the old forge. It couldn't be safe for humans to go in there.
The voice again - clearer, definitely San's. She was somewhere in that forge, hidden in the murk. "San! I'm here!" he called back to the darkness. "I'm coming!"
He found his way from the entrance with small steps, tensed in case he ran into something truly dangerous. Rough iron sands were piled beneath his feet, and the dead, half-melted forge seemed to breathe a cold wind down the back of his neck.
It was cold here, almost frigid - it couldn't be this cold, not at this time of the year. He stumbled over the wreck of the bellows in its pit, then found a place where moonlight fell in still blue patches. Huddled under the forge's monstrous shape was a shimmering, flowing blanket of wolf fur, white and spectral. "San - what's happened? Are you hurt?"
Her eyes suddenly appeared out of the darkness - she wasn't on the floor beneath the wolfskin, she was kneeling there, shivering in her simple fur tunic and skirt. "Here," he offered, starting to take off his kimono, "take this."
Her answer was simple and gentle: "Keep that off me, I don't want to go back smelling like a human." He stopped, surprised. San used to say things like that in anger, outraged at the thought of wearing a filthy human garment. Looking straight at her, he spoke again. "What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting me in Moro's valley, at dawn."
"A kodama led me here."
"A kodama! So they are still around here. I haven't seen any tonight."
"I've been waiting for you, Ashitaka. I wanted you to see her."
"See who?"
San answered by pulling back the wolfskin partway, and cradled in her lap was a face that struck him to the core: a girl, no older than six or seven, emaciated and hollow-eyed. Her skin was pale, paler than a corpse's - she could almost have been the ghost of one of the villagers he'd had to bury.
Cautiously, he put his hand out. When San nodded, he felt the girl's forehead. Cold as stone. "Is she alive?"
The wolf-girl was speaking through chattering teeth now. "She's alive. She'll stay alive."
The girl's eyes sprang open, wide and black, almost springing from their sockets. Leaning closer, San murmured some soothing words and the eyes closed again. Ashitaka felt an impulse well up to jerk his hand away in horror. Instead, he kept it there, feeling his warmth bleed into the half- starved girl. "What happened to her?"
Now San spoke with anger. "Abandoned. By the humans! The people under that gun-woman."
Ashitaka slowly turned his head. "San . . . there have never been any children in Irontown. Not now, not then."
She pretended she didn't hear. "I'm taking her with me. She'll be a daughter of the wolf clan - Moro made me her daughter, I can make her mine. The next Princess Mononoke." There was something in her voice that was indescribably sad - something full of pride and genuine caring that made Ashitaka's heart pause. She went on: "Help me bring her up. I can't do it alone, and my brothers would be useless. Will you help me, Ashitaka."
The girl's eyes opened again, and this time the Emishi warrior pulled his hand back. He felt almost sick about what he had to say: "San, you can't." She answered by leaning consolingly over the girl again. "San - look at her eyes!"
She did - and gasped. There was fire in those eyes - smoldering red coals of hate. "She's not human!" Ashitaka cried. "She is a mononoke!"
The girl's skin turned elastic - her face distorted - she bulged and grew into something bloated, black, horrific. San scrambled away and sprang up, one hand on the knife she had made from a wolf's fang.
The whole forge baked beneath a flood of lurid orange light - the air shimmered, even though it was still freezing - and the smell - the smell made them stagger, made them nauseous - the overpowering stench of something burning. Tall grass shriveled and died - roof beams turned to charcoal.
Ashitaka gave a yell and ripped his scabbard off - his sword was glowing red. It fell among the weeds, smoking, then rose into the air on its own. The monstrous apparition rumbled a noise that sounded like joy and the sword was raised for a slash.
A female shout - San's battle-cry - rattled Ashitaka's nerve. The sword swung and the wolf princess jumped forward to strike back.
Sparks exploded and San's scream made him cringe. She crumpled against the fragile wooden wall and her knife clattered to the ground, scorched. The bloated thing with the fearsome eyes raised the sword.
Ashitaka leapt between them. "Calm yourself!" he pleaded. "Calm yourself and move your sword closer!" He held one small object in his hand, upraised as if to defend them.
A single dry twig.