Chapter Two: Appearance
First appearance deceives many.
-Ovid
xxXxx
The little girl sometimes wondered if her father hated her, first for getting cursed, and then for being responsible for her mother's death. She had never realized how ideal her life had been until after her father initiated 'the plan'.
There was a long list of rules that she now had to obey, every moment of every day. No more laughing, no more smiling, and no more singing were just at the top of the list.
Her father kept insisting that he loved every bit of her, but…
Such things made her gender all too clear.
Of course, it wasn't all bad. She got to spend more time with her father as he began teaching her the tricks of his trade, which was trapping. But her all-time least favorite part about her new life were the trips into the village.
She had been unable to keep herself from staring at first. Never before had she seen so many people, who were completely happy to stare right back at her. Her father had coached her time and again not to reach out for his hand while in town, but nothing could have made her leave his side.
Not with the way everyone was staring at her, as if she were a ghost coming to claim one of their own.
Her father ignored the stares, marching straight through all the strange huts made from wood until reaching one of the bigger ones. "Remember, stay close," he whispered, making her nod and adjust her hold on her bag, which contained the two rabbit hides she had skinned and cured with her father's help.
She had been only seven at the time. It didn't take long for her to start catching more.
As they walked into the large hut, a man looked up from behind a large wooden counter, and gasped in horror. "Heavens above; what is that?" he demanded, pointing a finger at her.
She looked down at her perfectly white snow boots, hating what her father was about to say.
"I have been given charge of the fairy Ukima's new companion, until she deems him ready for his duties. The boy doesn't have a name," her father answered casually, thanks to several hours of practicing in the cave.
That was what hurt the most. Having her father all but disown her in public. She kept staring at her boots, wanting to go back to the cave.
"Doesn't she already have a companion?" the man asked as her father slammed his bag of hides over the counter.
"Not anymore. The boy is his replacement," her father said indifferently as he gave her a stern look. "Put the bag where he can see it, boy."
She nodded, although she was a bit more careful about putting her bag on the counter.
The man kept staring at her, as he curiously opened her bag to pull out the two rabbit skins. "Did he used to be a bear cub?"
"I don't know. It isn't wise to question Ukima," her father said tightly. "Now then, the past month's been really good for fox and rabbit hunting. I've got five fox skins, one of which is silver…"
From there, it turned to haggling over how much each skin was worth, as well as the small number of bone needles that he had carved from the bones of his kill. The tiny girl tried hard to pay attention, but all those numbers flying around made her eyelids droop tiredly. She looked around the large building, but the only things that seemed interesting were behind the counter, and she knew better than to ask for a closer look at anything.
She gave a speculative look at the door. Did she dare?
The round thing her father had grabbed onto to open it began moving on its own. She jumped back in surprise with a small gasp.
The door opened a crack. An eye peeked within, widening at seeing her. She tilted her head in confusion; whoever it was happened to be as tall as her. With hesitant steps, she came closer, making the door slam fearfully.
"Hey, are you playing with the door?" the man asked crossly.
"No, sir," she finally managed to say, remembering to keep her voice slightly gruff like a bear's.
"Get away from it, then," her father ordered.
She looked at him, and then at the door. Who had been staring at her? "Can I go outside instead?"
Her father's eyes tightened slightly. "… Don't go too far. Stay within sight of the door," he finally complied, turning back to return to haggling.
Eager to be out of the boring room, the petite child operated the knob the same way her father had, careful to close the door behind her.
This hut had a strange wooden floor in front of it, making her carefully walk off it and the steps leading back to the snow. She looked this way and that, trying to find the person that had looked at her before.
"Are you a fairy?" a young voice whispered from behind her.
She whirled around in surprise, seeing a whole group of children huddled against the side of the wood flooring, staring at her in horror.
The white-haired child gulped nervously. "I'm a fairy's companion. Or I will be, when I grow up."
"I thought humans couldn't be a fairy's companion," one girl piped up, holding a doll tight against the cold.
She looked down at her white gloved hands, fiddling nervously with the edge of her bearskin cloak. "I won't be a human forever."
The children kept staring at her, long enough to make the girl uncomfortable.
She looked down at the snow around her boots, and kicked at it self-consciously. "… I should go back now," she mumbled, turning away to head back inside the strange hut.
"Do you want to play?" one of the boys asked suddenly, making her look back in surprise.
"… Play?" she asked in confusion. She had only ever played with her mother and sometimes her father. But none of them had a book or a toy; how could they play?
"Sure. We can have a snowball fight," the boy said enthusiastically, marching out from the rest of the kids bravely to approach her. "Do you know what those are?"
She shook her head slowly as she stared at the boy. He was a bit taller and older than her, perhaps by a few years. She didn't quite know the right word for it, but it was very pleasant to look at his face, especially his smile.
"Well, first you get a bunch of snow like this, and pack it down tight," he showed her, making a perfectly round ball between his hands.
"What do you do with the ball?" she asked curiously, leaning forward to inspect the ball.
He smiled at her, and tossed it at another boy, hitting him on the chest as the ball exploded into snowflakes. "Come on guys, he's harmless."
The white clad girl had to bite down on her tongue to keep from asking who 'he' was. Like she had seen the boy do, she leaned down and started packing snow into a ball shape.
"I don't know, Machida," the boy he hit said fearfully, but Machida just laughed at him.
"He's just a boy like us, only one color. Go on, hit me," he urged her with a smile.
She uncertainly looked at the ball in her hand. Did she pack it tight enough?
"Come on, just hit me," he laughed, holding his arms out while stepping backward.
She took a deep icy breath, and threw it at him.
The children gasped in horror as Machida flew several feet backward to land on his back, screaming in pain as he clutched one shoulder.
She stared in shock, and tried to run to his side. But the other children intercepted her, making a barricade with their bodies.
"You hurt Machida, you meanie," the girl with the doll accused, just before kicking her in the leg as hard as she could.
"Ouch! I didn't mean to," she protested, just as a number of adults came running at the sound of the screams.
"My son! What happened?" a tall man demanded as he knelt next to the boy, although his glare was already directed at the girl in the bearskin cloak.
"He threw this snowball at Machida," one boy reported, kicking the globe with one foot. Somehow, it was still in one piece.
"It was an accident, I didn't mean to-" she tried to protest just as someone tall grabbed a big fistful of her cloak to throw her to the side.
She landed on the ground, her face scraping harshly against the cold snow and ice. A few tears escaped her control as she sat up to look at the large group of adults, all of whom were glaring at her hatefully.
"I knew you were up to no good as soon as I saw you," the father snarled as he carefully picked up Machida.
"I wasn't trying to harm him," she tried to say without crying.
"So, you think its fun to pelt defenseless kids with snowballs, eh?" one of the older men sneered, gathering some snow of his own. "Let's see how you like this!"
"I didn't mean it-" she tried to protest, but then another parent hit her square in the jaw with a snowball that felt like a rock.
It was only the first of the snowballs that began raining down on her, from both the adults and the children, packed as hard as possible. Holding her arms over her head, she struggled to her feet, and started running. Within mere seconds, the snowballs stopped. Since the large group had seemed angrier than to give up so soon, she paused and looked behind her.
Her mouth dropped. They had made chase… but they had no chance of catching up to her. She was already several hundred feet away from them, and several of the group was staring at her with open mouths.
She gripped a side of the bearskin as she realized that she wasn't just marked in appearance. Her strength and speed were also affected. That's why the snowball had hurt Machida so much; she didn't know her own strength!
Realizing that some of the more determined adults were still running at her, she began running again, as hard as she could. She knew it was breaking her promise to Papa, but it was also turning into a battle of survival.
Where to run? The village wasn't very big, and it was too far to the cave to go by herself. She settled for running laps around all of the wooden huts, and praying that her father would be done soon.
But before she could run a single lap, someone hiding behind a nearby building grabbed her arm and pulled her close. She opened her mouth to scream, but a long-fingered hand covered her lips.
"Hush, child," a raspy old voice whispered into her ear. "I mean ye no harm."
She stiffened in surprise, and tried to look around to see the one holding her. But the old woman's other hand prevented her from looking, choosing instead to pick her up and slide behind another building, just as a mob of angry adults stormed by.
"The villagers won't understand ye, child. It would be best to stay close to ye' father until ye' old enough to defend yourself."
The pale girl stiffened in horror. She tried to pry the old woman's mitten off her mouth to deny her father's identity, but the grip was surprisingly strong, even for her.
"Hide here until they stop shouting. Then see if ye can find ye' father, and don't leave his side until ye' safely home." Then the woman seemed to hesitate, just before pressing a soft kiss onto the girl's cheek.
She gasped in surprise, just as her captor released her. She wheeled around to see who it was, but all she saw was the corner of a cloak as it disappeared around a corner. The girl quickly ran to look around the corner, but there was no sign of anyone.
"Weird," she commented as she sat down at the corner of the hut, and waited for the shouts to die down. She heard them walk by several times, but for some reason, no one thought to look where she was hiding.
The little girl looked down at her cloak, which was wrapped around her little body to fight back the chill. Was it because she looked like part of a snow bank? She would have to remember this, if they ever decided to chase her again. But how come that lady didn't want her to see her face?
After a while, they stopped yelling. Had they given up? She got to her feet to look around the corner carefully. A group of people were down a ways, huddled close together in conversation. She decided the other way would be better to start looking for her father, but was extremely careful about the way she moved from hiding place to hiding place.
They all looked the same to her. How was she going to know which one to hide out in? She turned another corner, and all thought of hiding left her senses.
"He didn't mean it, he's only a child!" her father yelled at the top of his lungs, struggling against the four men holding him down. "This is going too far!"
A familiar pounding flooded through her blood. It wasn't as strong as it had been when her mother was in danger, but it was enough.
Feeling her eyesight turn strange, she marched around the corner, bearing down on the men holding her father captive.
Another man had a large stick handy, in case she came back, but compared to the bear, he was hardly an opponent at all. She slipped around his clumsy blows and swept his legs out from underneath him. He landed on a corner of her cloak, but a good tug was enough to free her from his weight.
"Let him go or I'll break your legs," she snarled at the remaining four, picking up the fallen man's club and holding it ready.
Surprisingly, the men did as she ordered, backing away from her father as if he was a pillar of fire.
Papa immediately ran to her, kneeling in the snow to place his hands on her shoulders and his mouth to her ear. "Shh, shh, everything's okay, honey. Calm down, you don't need to hurt anyone. Shh, shh," he whispered, gently swaying her body from side to side to help her calm down.
After a moment of this, she sighed an almost moan as she dropped the club, and held her head between her hands. It felt like someone was taking the club to her head, it hurt so much. A few more tears escaped her control, but her father was quick enough to bury her face into the front of his fur coat so that no one would see.
He then picked her up, still holding her face to his chest as he glared at the returning mob. "All of you should be ashamed of yourselves. The boy didn't mean to harm the mayor's son; I could hear him apologizing from inside the trading post. I was going to offer retribution for the injury, but I can see that you have already taken it. Tasho, is everything packed up?"
The old man nodded shakily from the door he had been watching from.
"Good. I and my ward will be leaving now." Not even bothering to bow to anyone, he marched directly into the store again, took the large bags waiting for them, and somehow managed to convince his daughter to carry one. He couldn't carry both of the sacks and her at the same time.
She could have told him that she was strong enough to carry both, and possibly him as well, but she didn't feel like talking right now. The headache was too much, and the heartache even worse.
She kept her head down, looking at only the snow beneath her feet as she and her father marched out of the village at a reasonable pace.
"You keep that freak of yours under control, or we'll take care of him ourselves!" the angriest of the parents shouted after them, shaking a fist.
"That is a wonderful idea," her father called over one shoulder sarcastically. "Ukima will be thrilled about losing her new pet so soon; feel free to pick out one of your number to replace the boy, will you?"
She shuddered at his indifferent tone. She knew it was just an act, but it still hurt to see him speak so coldly of her possible death.
They marched side by side for about an hour until he called a halt.
"This is why I wouldn't let you use these branches for firewood, son. We don't want anyone to know where we live, so from now on, we'll use these to sweep away our tracks." He demonstrated for her, walking backwards while vigorously disrupting the soft snow until his footprints had disappeared.
His child merely nodded, taking the smaller branch to half-heartedly copy his movements. She was too depressed to even mention the woman who had helped her escape the mob.
Papa looked at her, and sighed sadly. "I'm sorry, son. I should have made you stay inside, where it was safe."
"… I wasn't trying to hurt him," she murmured, almost too soft to hear. "He was being nice to me."
"I bet he was. Machida's a nice boy, but his father… well, he's very well respected in the village. Even if he wasn't the mayor, they'd have still given chase."
"But… but…" she stammered as tears threatened to resurface.
"Son, no," he commanded, leaving off his task to make her look at him. "Boys don't cry, remember?"
"I'm not a boy," she whispered.
"Don't ever say that again," he ordered, making her look at him. "We've been over this; until you find the place that will cure you, you are a boy."
"But I don't want to be a boy!"
Her father covered her mouth in horror. "What if someone overheard you?" he hissed fearfully. "They would have treated you far worse if they knew you were a girl, wasn't it hard enough as a boy?"
"… yes," she muttered reluctantly.
"Son, this world is a cruel place. I've seen some of the things that happen to defenseless little girls, and… it's too terrible to talk about. Until you're cured, you're better off as a boy, okay?"
She looked away, still not liking his plan.
"Sweetheart… I don't want you to turn into a bear forever. Please, for me; be a boy," he begged.
"… Okay," she said in a tiny voice, forcing herself to say it.
He sighed with relief, and kissed her hair before standing up to sweep his marks away as before. "Let's hurry; it takes twice as long to get home this way, and who knows what sort of spirits come out at night?"
"More fairies?" she asked with a shudder.
Her father gave her a long, sad look. "My poor, sweet little boy. There is so much more to fear in this world than fairies."
ooOoo
"… A goat?" the pale girl asked, staring at the picture book with intent.
"Very good. Is their fur worth anything?" her father asked keenly, keeping his hands on the words so that she wouldn't get any hints.
"For anyone except the poorest of people, it's lousy. Their fur is actually more like fleece, so it's better to spin their hair into yarn, if you really need it. They're usually pets, so it's better not to hunt them at all."
"That's right," he told her with a proud smile, taking back the picture book to look for another animal to test her on.
It had only been about a month since her first trip into town, and she was not looking forward to going back there, even if she was worried to learn if Machida was healing all right or not. But her father was doing pretty well with distracting her with more training and learning about animals that weren't to be found in the Northern Lands from a book he had gotten for her two rabbit skins.
"What about this one?" he asked, showing her another picture while keeping his hands over the words.
She still found it strange that she read better than her father, but before Mama died, she had been warned never to bring it up. Her father was a little touchy about his bad reading skills.
"Wolf," She reported, recognizing the fur on the animal from her parent's quilt, when he'd play this game with just names and fur. "Very dangerous, and they usually run in packs. Depending on the customer, quite valuable, but try to avoid hunting them or letting them hunt you. Not too many people survive a confrontation like that."
"How is their meat?" her father pressed.
"With the right spices, it's not so bad. It's better than sheep, but worse than ox."
Her father grinned, looking through the book again. "What about this one?"
"Otter. Water proof hide, difficult to catch unless you know the right tricks. Not bad in a stew, though slightly chewy."
He smiled again, and laid the book on his lap, not bothering to hide the words anymore. "I'd have to say that you know your animals pretty well, son. Let's see if I can find something more challenging." He started sifting through the pages carefully with a thoughtful expression.
Suddenly, she saw an animal she had never seen before. Her hand reached out to stop her father, and turn back to the page while turning the book around on his lap to face her.
The animal looked a bit like a snow leopard, but had pointed ears instead of rounded, and was sleeping under a tree with a bunch of smaller ones curled up beside it.
"Cats," she read from the book. "The dom-esti-cated cousins of tigers, lions, and leopards."
"Oh, them?" her father laughed, taking the book from her. "You don't have to worry about cats, son. Their hides are worthless, the meat is terrible, and they're very popular pets in the southern kingdoms. Well, either pets or nuisances, but definitely not worth the trouble of hunting."
"Are they nice?" she asked, unusually intrigued.
"Some are, depends on the cat." He gave her a fond, melancholy look. "I should have known you'd be interested in them. Your mother loved cats, too."
"She did?" the pale girl asked excitedly.
"Of course. Don't you remember all the times she called you her little kitten?" He tapped at the smaller cats in the picture. "Baby cats are known for being exceptional at cuddling, and are completely adorable."
She smiled brightly. It felt good for her mother to associate her to something cute and harmless.
"Don't do that," her father warned her worriedly. "Your smile's girly, remember?"
"I remember," she sighed, reluctantly wiping the smile off her face. She still wished he'd let her be herself when they were alone. But to make the plan work, she needed to be a boy all the time, so that she wouldn't slip up when people were around.
Unfortunately, that also meant she couldn't be happy anymore.
"I'd like to see a cat, someday," she said wistfully.
He smiled at her, and kissed her short white hair. "Don't worry, son. You'll see plenty of them, when the time is right." He then sighed. "Your mother always liked to say that there is nothing more soothing than a cat's purr."
"What's a purr?" his daughter asked in confusion.
Her father stared at her in shock. Then he placed one hand over his face. "Of course you wouldn't know that. Never mind, Ha-ech!" he started gasping again.
She waited patiently for him to catch his breath. "Papa? What's a purr?" she asked again.
He gave her a strange look, biting his lip awkwardly. "… You might call it a happy growl."
"What? How can a growl be happy?" she couldn't keep from asking.
"If you had ever heard a purr, you'd understand. Cats only purr when they're happy or being petted. It's a very content sound; you'll understand someday."
She looked down at her lap in misery. "If we were cats, we would have purred when Mama was alive, wouldn't we?"
Her father stared at her, his eyes slowly overflowing with tears. "Yes, sweetheart. We would have purred nonstop back then."
She sighed in longing. "It sounds beautiful."
ooOoo
The cursed child did not leave her father's side, the next time they had to visit the village. The stares were much colder this time, although there was also a strong trace of fear, now that they had an idea of what she was capable of.
In fact, the only time she dared to take more than a step away from her father's side was when they were in the trading post again, and the last customer had left in a hurry, so as to not be around her for longer than needed.
The tiny girl gripped the side of the counter with both hands in order to lift herself up enough to look at the terrified old man. "How is Machida?" she asked in a slightly gruff voice, the same she had used in the last trip to town.
"H-He's almost completely recovered," Tasho informed her fearfully. "He only complains of an ache every now and again."
She looked down at her feet as she lowered herself to the floor again. "I'm glad he's better."
"So am I, boy," her father said in a comforting tone before turning the conversation to haggling again.
His daughter had more to offer this time; three rabbit skins as well as a skunk hide. She was still a bit smelly from the fight she'd had with the skunk before gaining the hide, but it had mostly faded by now.
Even after being reassured, she did not step away from her father for anything. When the door creaked open behind them, the only way she acknowledged it was by pulling her hood over her head.
That made Tasho even more nervous, since the hood had been made with Shiro's head. But after a while, they managed to negotiate the supplies they would need for the month and split the burden between them before saying goodbye.
The small girl child refused to look in any direction other than forward, as they left the trading post and began the long walk back to the cave.
"Wait, you! Hey, you!" a familiar voice called out behind them.
She looked around in surprise. It was Machida.
Her father stood in front of her protectively as he ran up to them. "Do I really have to say it again?" he sighed in exasperation. "He didn't mean to throw that stupid snowball so hard."
"I know. Please sir, I just want to apologize," the boy panted, leaning over his legs to catch his breath.
She looked around her father in complete shock. "Apologize? I'm the one who hurt you!"
"I also know you didn't mean it. I'm sorry that you got chased around town because of me. I tried speaking to my father about you, but he wouldn't listen to me." Machida then made a face of disgust. "As usual."
She hesitantly walked from behind her father. "I'm very sorry about hurting you. I'll never do it again."
He grinned at her. "I know you won't. Pals?" he asked, holding out a hand to her.
She looked up at her father, but he only nodded encouragingly. "Pals," she agreed, being incredibly careful about the way she grabbed his hand.
It was warm.
"It's okay to grip harder than that," he informed her with a laugh.
"I don't want to hurt you again."
"You won't. Come on, just a little harder, not a lot," he coaxed.
She increased the pressure slightly. "Like that?"
"A little harder."
"What about that?"
"Just right," he assured her with a laugh, shaking her hand a bit.
The cursed girl almost laughed too, but then felt a pressure on her foot. A quick glance revealed it to be her father's boot, and a silent warning.
She quickly shut her mouth and took back her hand. "Thank you for being so nice, Machida. I hope your shoulder heals all the way."
"Don't worry about it. Hey, what's your name?" he asked suddenly. "It's been bugging me all month."
She flinched away in guilt. No name her father could come up with suited her as much as her real one.
"I'm afraid my ward doesn't have a name; it's forbidden," her father said gently, touching one of her shoulders. "Although I'm glad that you like him, the day is growing old, and it's risky to travel at night."
"Oh, right. Thanks for letting me talk to him, sir," Machida said while bowing to the two of them respectfully.
Papa did the same, making his small child swiftly follow suit before walking away. The little girl was in a bit of a daze, hardly noticing anything outside of the snow and keeping her grip on the sack.
"Disgusting," her father snarled angrily.
She broke free from her thoughts. "What's disgusting?"
"Them," he answered, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
She looked behind them, to see that the village was long behind them. "I don't understand, what was disgusting about the village?"
"The way they were staring at you. I bet that boy's been shouting his forgiveness from the rooftop since getting better, and they still stare at you like a rabid animal."
"… Aren't I, though?" she asked after a moment of thought. "When I get really angry, I do terrible things."
"Oh, everyone does that; you're just a bit more intense about it. But, honestly! They're the rabid animals, for chasing a child around like a wanted criminal!"
The girl looked down at her pure white snow boots again, not being able to think of anything to say to that.
When they reached the branches again, however, her father burst out laughing for no reason.
"Sir?" she asked worriedly, since he was trying to wean her off of calling him Papa. "What's wrong?"
"I-It's… just… how's that for irony?" her father said after several minutes. "The only one in town who had a right to hate you is the only one willing to give you a chance!"
She had to fight to keep from laughing or smiling, to avoid another scolding from him.
But nothing could keep her from looking at her gloved hand in wonder. It was still warm from Machida's touch. She thought about his warm smile, so easy, so accepting.
She had a reason not to dread the trips into town anymore.
"… I have a friend," she whispered happily.