1.6 Clipped Whiskers

My tail's on fire! My tail's on fire! My tail's on fire!

Nen'tan the Traitor, former general, excuse for fleeing the Battle of Shennon.

"The moon is really pretty, isn't it, Silver?"

"Sure is."

Cherry smiled sadly. Silver's illness still left him confined to his bed. He seemed to sleep more and more each day. She wouldn't admit it to even herself, but Cherry was getting worried.

"The world is always moving, changing. Even the moon. Thank you for being my anchor, Cherry."

The next morning…

"What did he mean by that?"

"It's really rather poetic."

"Am I getting fat?" panicked Cherry.

"If I were you, I wouldn't worry too much about…"

"I am fat!"

"So any affectionate meaning for anchor is right out the window, is it?"

"Gotta lose weight fast! Calisthenics, palates, squats… Saimon, you'll have to excuse me. I need to get in a jog!" Cherry shouted and dashed off.

"Cute kid," Saimon observed and shook his head.

Not that he had time to get wrapped up in the affairs of others.

"Good morning, Saimon."

"Good morning. How's the ferrying fairing?"

"Fine. Any luggage?"

"Just my bag, but I can get that."

"Nonsense. You are my passenger, you don't have to lift a thing until you set foot on dry land again."

"My thanks. What's that?"

"Eh? Oh, that. I found it in Ferrous's shop. It's a mill. When you turn the crank, milk and herrings come out, but the darn thing is rusty and keeps jamming."

"That's too bad. My granny had one, once upon a time. Except hers was green and about twice as big."

"Seems like they're making everything smaller these days."

"Heh. Even antiques."

"Right," laughed the ferryman. "I'm going to pick some oil up from the metal shop later today."

"Have you been there recently?"

"No, why?"

"He's got an enormous gaudy skull hanging over the shopfront now. Wait until you see it. It's really something."

"I'll be sure to keep an eye open for it. Ah, we're here."

The ferry bumped lightly against the dock.

"Three pennies."

"Here you go."

"Thanks. See you later."

"Bye!"

Saimon waved and walked away with bag in hand. The ferryman had seemed cheerful enough. Maybe the strange events in his brother's letter… No, it was best to be ready for anything. He switched the bag to his other shoulder. He was in for a long day of training. The clearing where he trained was only a bit further.

It was in a secluded clearing near the stump of the great willow that he trained. The willow had fallen down years ago and he, Saimon, had been on the team hired to cut it up. Now it was the perfect place to swing his axe. He had spent a few weeks making targets and dummies to use and an obstacle course to run. The project that had taken the longest to complete was the miniature dam that stopped up the water from a nearby minor stream so that it formed a shallow pool before it continued on to the river. This made a great bathing pool that he could take a break in during the hottest part of the day.

He made it to the clearing in time to get two hours of swinging, running, and jumping in before lunch. He started on the throwing range. He threw the axe at the target, flicking his wrist at the end of the throw so that it spun just the right amount to lodge the axe in the wood. After he had made two dozen new notches in the target, he moved on to the obstacle course. Two practice runs later, he had donned his armor. After the seventh lap, he began chopping fallen trees. The metal collar, bracers, and heart shield had begun to chafe, so he went through his technique practice quickly.

As always, the spring water was refreshing to body and spirit. It was cool, but not cold. He was not happy to leave it so soon, but he had business in town, and it could not wait. As he prepared to leave his clearing, he saw something odd. There was a shadow looming all about the stump. The sun was far above, at the zenith of its daily journey. Saimon stepped carefully on the shadow. It didn't feel different, but now his foot was also veiled from the sun. He stepped fully into the shade. Still nothing. He looked around. The shadow's shape suggested a large disk. He looked up. There was nothing but sky. However, the sun didn't seem as bright as it should have.

Something wet touched his foot.

"Agh!" cried Saimon, leaping back.

There was water trickling through the grass. It was moving outward from the stump. At first he kept his distance, but curiosity got the better of him and he stepped closer. The top of the stump, the one he had helped cut apart, was leaking water. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the weeping stump. He cried out as his whole body was set aflame. The world whirled. Every nerve hissed and sparked in that single instant and he was thrown back, smoking, out of the shadow.

For the longest time, he couldn't move. All he could do was lie there and now and again twitch. After several minutes he managed to move a finger. He couldn't feel it, which was a bad sign, but he had hope. As he lay there, fighting to move, the only thing he could think of was what he had seen in that thunderflash. It was an otherworldly being. Pale rose skin, budding brown hair, and broad tawny wings. Far more startling had been the emotion. It was like he was feeling pain and sadness in stereo.

Whatever this creature had been, it was dead now. That fact was undeniable in the same way that one knows truth. For whatever reason, it was here. There was something terribly wrong. Saimon had to warn the village. He found that he could twitch his whiskers now and another finger could move. He urged his body to recover quicker. A full hour later, he had the use of one hand. His arm was far to heavy for it to move, though. He heard a rustling noise. So he could hear again.

Something landed behind him with a soft "thwup."

Saimon urged his muscles to work, struggled with all his might to turn his neck. The soft rustling again. A rook landed softly before him and looked him over. Saimon froze. It hopped a bit closer. The beak open and closed. A small tongue twitched within the beak. It hopped forward.

Saimon lunged for it with his hand, and grabbed hold of its tail. With a startled cry, the rook took off. Saimon could see it still with one eye. It was perched in the tree right above him. Clearly it thought him close to cashing in his chips. He lay quiet, twitching his numb fingers. The hours stretched on and the rook waited patiently as the day passed and night set in.