Chapter Four: Thorn-Pierced
In his ill-temper, Moonshadow nearly broke into an undignified trot, determined to make as much progress as he possibly could before night fell.
It was nearing sunset when he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his hind hoof. He had stepped on something, he realized instantly; a large thorn or perhaps a sharp broken-off twig had pierced deeply into the tender frog in the centre of his hoof.
Twisting around, he was just able to see the small dark spot that indicated where the object was embedded. But he soon discovered that by no amount of contortion could he reach to extract the thorn from his own hoof; whenever he thought he might be close, he became overbalanced and had to put the hoof down.
At last he straightened slowly, his head throbbing from holding it upside down for some time. He would continue to Cair Paravel, he decided; a healer there or perhaps in one of the towns along the way could remove the thorn for him.
But it was already growing dark now, and centaurs' night vision was no better than humans'; he had no desire to injure himself further attempting to continue on in the dark.
Finding a soft bed of ferns, he lay down and ate from the supplies in his pack. Then he leaned against the nearest tree and drifted to sleep.
oOo
He awoke early the next morning with his hoof throbbing, and the unmistakable chill and light-headedness of fever.
Once more he tried to reach his own hoof, but even lying down he found it impossible. He could just touch the hoof, but he couldn't perform the delicate work necessary, or see what he was doing even if he had been able to reach.
He stood slowly, resting a hand for a moment on the trunk of the tree beside him. He was still thinking clearly enough to realize it would be dangerous now to attempt to reach Cair Paravel before seeking aid, but what choice did he have?
Even if he had been willing to accept the Fox's claim as a healer, to humble himself enough to go back and ask for aid, a Fox that had been angry enough to growl even at a centaur would surely never grant it.
No, he would have to continue on and hope to find a healer in one of the towns along the way.
He had lost track of time when he came upon a stream, splashing into it almost before he realized it was there. He bent to cup some of the cool water in his hand to drink, and stood for a moment as it soothed his hoof. But the water wasn't icy enough to do much good, and in moments his hoof was throbbing as bad as ever.
As he stumbled out of the stream, he thought once again of the Fox. Surely it wasn't possible that he had angered him beyond all possibility of aid.
He remembered the confrontation now through a feverish haze, and thought surely it must be a dream. No mere Beast would dare growl at a centaur, and therefore it couldn't have happened. He had not yet reached the Fox's lair; he had only dreamed he had as he slept last night with the beginning of fever.
It was not the Animals' intelligence he doubted, but their lack of hands, he thought, his own thoughts hardly making sense to his fevered mind as he conveniently forgot he had recently thought nothing of seeing an otter knitting.
In truth, he had never considered whether a Fox was intellectually or physically capable of being a healer at all. His concern had not been whether the creatures of the Northern Forests were getting adequate medical care, but that a Fox dared to think itself a centaur's equal.
Now for the first time he understood how even a mediocre healer close by could be preferred to the distant Halls of Healing — if his thoughts had not been too muddled to be said to understand anything.
And however illegible it was, the Fox could write; surely he would also have the dexterity to remove a thorn.
Yes, he would continue on to the Fox, Moonshadow decided, not realizing he had lost all sense of direction and was in fact wandering aimlessly.
He was limping badly now, unable to put any weight on the left hind hoof at all, and too lightheaded to be able to walk steadily on three.
Then he stumbled, going down to his foreknees and wondering even as he fell if he had the strength to get up again.
But even as he fell, he found himself leaning against a tree that surely had not been there before. Strong roots rose up out of the ground to support him, while branches reached down to cradle his torso.
He let his head fall back, content to rest for the moment against the rough but oddly warm and comforting bark. Walking Trees…he had never imagined that there were Walking Trees this far north, and wondered dimly for a moment if it was just another feverish dream.
But dream or not, a Tree couldn't help him, and he began trying to struggle to his feet, to be restrained by branches that despite their confinement, did not have the feel of a prison.
Lieee ssstilll… It was not speech so much as an unfelt wind whispering through the branches, the rustling of the leaves shaping itself into half-imagined words.
Too weak to do otherwise anyway, Moonshadow let himself relax once more against the rough bark.
Geeet helllp…Rawlllsstoww… There was a flurry of feathers as a Bird that had been perched unseen in the Tree's upper branches flew off to carry the message.
"He won't come," Moonshadow insisted wearily, unsure whether he meant because the Fox was angry with him, or simply because it was too far a distance to expect any sane healer to travel to his patient.
Offf cooourrsse hee willll. Reessst… Cool leaves brushed across his fevered forehead and then began gently fanning him, and Moonshadow drifted into a fitful sleep.
Next chapter coming next week!
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