5.
The First Tale
A small cluster of grazing does raised their heads as the strange party emerged from the trees. They followed the three deer with their large, dark eyes, wondering. Redshank, a skinny young stag, was at the front, followed by Delphinium and Agrimony. The last two, they knew, had gone into the fields for water. But why were they back so soon? And what was that on Delphinium’s back? The unasked questions that flitted through the air among the group of does like tiny ghosts were cut off and forgotten as the scent hit them. It was a scent they knew all too well, and caused them to recoil in terror as the three deer passed by.
Delphinium carried her head high and passed the questioning deer without so much as a glance. She could feel their eyes pressing into the back of her head—many eyes, as almost the entire herd had now noticed them and their mysterious creature that smelled of wolf.
Redshank was leading them to Eryngo. It was his decision that mattered, not the rest of them. And Eryngo must listen to sense—how could they leave a fawn of any creature to die?
“Delphinium, Agrimony,” Eryngo said, acknowledging the pair as they approached him. They twitched their ears in greeting. Redshank hovered around them awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do, until he trotted away.
“I see you have returned. But what is this you bring among us? It carries the scent of the predator, terror. Surely not…?”
“Well, yes, I will tell you ‘tis a wolf,” Delphinium said, lowering her head to deposit the sodden white pup into the grass so that Eryngo could see it. “But a fawn as well, and a very small one at that,” she added.
Eryngo made a sound of mild surprise and bent his shaggy, antlered head to examine the tiny creature. “Small, yes, but for a wolf that means nothing. Where did you find it?”
“By the watering hole. In the watering hole,” said Delphinium. “I do believe it came down over the falls. For sure, there can be no taking it back if ‘tis so. So you see, Eryngo. I’ve brought it to you to ask if I might keep it.”
“Keep it? I thought that was why you came. ‘Tis something only you would do, Delphinium.”
Delphinium said nothing; she only gazed back at her leader. But Eryngo shook his head.
“I do not know,” he said. “Are you quite sure? ’Tis a wolf, you see. Our natural enemy.”
“But ‘tis a fawn,” Delphinium protested. “Would you be responsible for the death of a fawn? And if ‘twere to grow up among the deer, it need never know that ‘tis a predator, why, it never would—”
“But how are you to know that would happen, Delphinium? Fawn or not, a wolf is a wolf. Even if ‘tis raised among us, among the deer, that will not change. There is no changing the balance of nature.”
“How can you know?” Delphinium said. “Nothing such as this has ever happened!”
Eryngo sighed. “But even so, what doe would want to accept this wolf fawn as her own? ‘Tis far too young to live without milk, but no doe would raise it alongside the fawn of her own. For they know, as we all do, that this creature is the child of the hunter, the predator. Not one would be willing, I am sure.”
“I would.” Delphinium said. “My own fawn died last halfmoon, Eryngo. You know that.”
There was a short silence while Eryngo considered this, pawing the ground in thought. At last, he came to a conclusion.
“No, I am sorry,” he said. “I cannot allow this wolf fawn into the herd. It may be a danger, and I do not wish to take foolish risks.”
Delphinium’s cry of protest was cut short by a new voice, carried from a thick wall of bushes behind Eryngo.
“She stays.”
All three deer turned to see a fourth deer, a small doe with wide misty eyes, shoving her way through the rustling branches.
“Eyebright, welcome,” Eryngo said, dipping his head in respect. But the doe ignored him, her eyes fixed on the pup. Eryngo, noticing this, explained.
“’Tis a wolf fawn, Eyebright. Delphinium brought it to me, but it cannot stay. Delphinium will take it back into the fields—”
Eyebright interrupted him with a short jerk of her head, still watching the pup. “She stays,” she repeated.
“I— what?”
“The wolf fawn. She shall stay.”
“No, Eyebright,” Eryngo said patiently. “You must not understand.”
“I understand far more than you, which you shall certainly know,” Eyebright said, looking up at him with large, unblinking eyes. “So the wolf fawn must stay.”
Eryngo was at a loss. “But the creature is nothing, nothing yet. ‘Tis too young to be anything. ‘Twould be no terrible deed, no murder, to leave it in the fields—why, the little creature does not even have a name.”
“Yes she does.” Again, Eyebright’s wide eyes were fixed on the pup, who was beginning to stir. “Her name is A-Lankhi, for she is a daughter of the River.”
Alanki was padding out of the forest, leaving the dark trees behind to step out onto the fields. She paused, raising her head to taste the wind and blinking in the sudden glare of the sun. The grass beneath her paws was long and wet, still glazed with dewdrops.
The deer herd was rarely in the same place. They moved from the land beyond The Sharps—a barren, stony wasteland that marked the end of Alanki’s forest—through the forest itself, and out onto the plain. As winter fell, they retraced their routes and Alanki never saw again them until the arrival of spring. This time of year, the deer herd took up residence along the banks of the Lake, which was where she was headed.
The Lake was in sight now, a shining blue hole in the heart of the fields. The deer could be seen as little brown smudges scattered all across the grass, like leaves on the forest floor. As Alanki drew closer, they grew larger and sharper, coming into focus until she was walking among them, weaving in and out of their long legs. Though the deer were all much larger than any wolf, Alanki never felt small among them. To them, she was no larger than a furry, white snake that barely came up to their knees. But a snake, however small, could bite and even kill. She knew she was the hunter, and the deer were the prey.
A few of them paused in their busy grazing to nod a greeting at her, but most paid no attention. Several skittered out of her way as she approached, and it was strange comfort to her to know that Tormentil had not been forgotten. Never mind that; she knew who she was looking for.
On the sandy banks of the Lake, a small group of fawns was clustered around an old doe, who had just finished in telling them a story. Their voices rang through the air, asking their endless questions about the tale. Alanki padded closer to listen.
“But what happened then? Why isn’t she still here?” piped a little stag, his antlers nothing more than bumps on his forehead.
The old doe smiled. “Why, you know,” she said. “Have I not told you that part of the story before?”
All of the fawns shook their heads and looked up at the storyteller, eager for another tale. She laughed.
“Well then,” she said. “I suppose there is no harm in another short tale. One leads into another, ay?”
The fawns squirmed and shot each other excited glances as the old doe began again.
“The wolf fawn lived with the herd for many moon-passings,” she said, closing her eyes and nodding her head, as though in deep thought. Her voice was low and dreamlike, soft as the wind in the leaves. “But they all passed by so quickly, as though carried on the wind. ‘Twas not long before Alankhi was almost grown, and a few deer of the herd were growing restless of her presence. For you must not forget, my dears—though she may have lived among us, she was always a child of the River, Lankhi, and she would grow to hunger for our blood. ‘Twas a dark day indeed, when this came clear, and ‘twas determined that she must leave.
“And so, Eyebright came to Eryngo and said that ‘twas time for the wolf fawn to leave us. Eryngo, as you know, was most reluctant, for he had come to think of the wolf fawn as a daughter to him. I did not wish for her to leave, either,
and many others though the same, but Eyebright was firm. ‘This is not a deer’ she said. ‘The wolf fawn has grown among the deer, but she is still a wolf. She no longer belongs here. She has become a danger. We have done our part; ‘tis time for us to release her.’
The doe opened her eyes and smiled. “And so, the wolf fawn left us. But ‘twas not for forever, my dears, for we see her still, and Eyebright assured us that a day shall come when she shall repay her debt to us and fight alongside the deer once again.”
The fawns sat in an awed sort of silence after the storyteller finished. The old doe beamed at them, waiting for their quiet to be broken by another onslaught of questions. Sure enough, it was not long before a shy-looking little doe spoke up.
“Has that day come yet?” she asked.
“No,” the storyteller replied. “It has yet to come. Maybe it shall come when you are grown. Only Eyebright knows, and there are many things she shan’t tell us.”
“Eyebright knows everything, doesn’t she?” blurted another fawn.
“No mortal creature knows everything. But Eyebright does know quite a lot.”
The fawns quieted again, considering this new piece of information.
“And what of the wolf fawn? Is she still alive?” breathed the little doe again, her eyes shining.
At this, the old doe looked over the heads of the eager fawns and met Alanki’s stare.
“Well then,” she said, with a touch of amusement. “That is not a story I can tell you. There is another who knows the tale better than I. What do you think, Alankhi? What happened to the wolf fawn?”
The fawns all turned around, craning their little necks to see who she was talking to. When they saw Alanki standing there rather awkwardly, they gasped and began muttering amongst themselves. One of the braver ones looked at her with more curiosity than fright.
“Well?” he demanded. “Is the wolf fawn still alive?”
“Oh, yes,” Alanki said, and the fawns gaped at her. “Yes she is,” she continued. “She is doing very well, considering.”
“You’re a wolf,” the fawn said, as if it were an accusation. “Do you know the wolf fawn?”
“More than any other creature does,” Alanki said. “And right now, she wishes to speak with your storyteller, if ‘tis not a problem?”
One of the fawns gave a little squeak and, without further questions, scrambled away. The others soon followed suit, shooting Alanki suspicious looks over their shoulders as they ran off. The old doe, however, remained where she was, shaking with silent laughter. Alanki turned and looked at her.
“You enjoy that, don’t you, Delphinium?” she said.
“Too right, I do,” the doe said. “But don’t you worry,” she added. “They shall get over their shock soon enough and—prepare yourself—come to bombard you with their questions. ‘Let me see your fangs,’ they’ll demand. And, ‘Did you really eat bugs?’” They have heard much about you, Alankhi. The legend of the wolf fawn is one of their favorites.”
Hiding her smile, Alanki grunted something unintelligible and flicked her tail. “I must speak with Eyebright. You, too, I suppose. Do you know where Eyebright is?”
Delphinium rose, shaking the sand out of her short brown hide. She squinted, brown eyes scanning the scattered groups of deer. “I am thinking she went to graze alone again; she does do that often. But perhaps Eryngo shall know where she is. Will you follow?”
Alanki trotted beside Delphinium as she plodded towards a solitary grazing stag, separate from the rest of the herd. He raised his head as they approached, a few strands of grass protruding from his mouth.
“Alankhi! Welcome back!”
Alanki nodded in greeting as he stepped forward to meet them. “Do you know where Eyebright is? I must speak with her.”
“I—”
Eryngo’s reply was cut short as a small doe ran up to the group, wide eyes stretcher wider than usual as she stared at Alanki.
“You have returned!” she said. “I knew you would come this day!”
“Oh—there you are, Eyebright,” Eryngo said, dipping his head to the doe. “Alankhi was just looking for you.”
“And I for her,” Eyebright said, nodding.
“Why?” Alanki asked, nervously. She knew full well what kind of reason Eyebright would have.
“I have had a dream,” announced Eyebright. The other deer gasped, and stared at her with wonder. Alanki, however, twitched her tail with slight annoyance. The deers’ superstition and mysticism didn’t affect her; in fact, it tended to annoy her. She had prepared herself for this conversation.
“And you were in it,” Eyebright continued in a soft, misty voice, staring at Alanki. “Eklo came to me, and he said—‘Fear, for the bearers of fire have turned against us.’ And I saw many shadowy specters swooping down upon the herd, with great fangs of silver and red eyes like coals. Lurking among them, there was a great, burning creature of flame. It hung back, watching as the shadows leapt upon us, tearing into our pelts and releasing our blood. And—Eklo said once more as he spoke from the sky—‘Bridge the gap between water and fire and hear, hear the voices.’ Then all was gone, and ‘twas darkness.”
Silence followed Eyebright’s brief account. Delphinium and Eryngo looked up at the sky as though expecting to see red-eyed ghosts swooping down to devour them. Alanki was unimpressed.
“So where do I come into all this?” she asked, raising her brow. Was there a quiet-spoken law, she wondered, that didn’t allow prophetic dreams to make sense?
Eyebright closed her eyes as though in pain, and when she opened them, they were shining with tears. “But do you not know how you came to us?” she asked.
“I drowned.”
“Oh—no, but you didn’t. And so for now, ’tis not blood that runs through your veins, but the essence and very spirit of the wild river.”
“Well—no, I’m fairly certain I have blood, thank you. You see, I’ve bled before… look, here is a scar.”
Eyebright shook her head as Alanki displayed a long scratch mark on her front leg. The doe sighed, as though embarrassed by her.
“No no,” she said, her voice growing louder. “You do not understand! The river is in you—you are just as wild and untamed,” Here, she paused, waiting for an effect. Alanki stared, not sure whether this was a compliment or not.
“You see?” Eyebright continued. “You must be the water. And now, you must build a bridge into the fire. ‘Tis the only way to deliver us, my dear,” she finished, surveying her small audience with satisfaction.
Delphinium and Eryngo were now watching Alanki, who stared at Eyebright with incredulity. She was beginning to doubt her hopes that the doe would be able to help her—she had forgotten how strange Eyebright was. Far, far past the normal strangeness for deer. And what kind of a prophecy was that? Bridge the gap between water and fire…? From what she had heard of prophecies, Alanki figured they weren’t allowed to make sense. Well, maybe the prophecy made sense to the deer—or maybe they were just pretending it made sense to them.
“I said, my dear,” Eyebright prompted with an underlying hint of impatience. “‘Tis the only way to deliver us.”
Bridge the gap between water and fire…?
“Yes, well, fine,” Alanki muttered at last. “But I’ve had enough with fire and such for now. ‘Tis why I came to speak with you—”
“Danger is coming!” Eyebright shrieked, her voice ringing with hysteria. “It comes closer every day! Every hour! Every minute! I can see the shadows swooping down… swooping…”
Alanki watched with growing irritation as the doe ducked, as though trying to avoid something flying through the air.
“Oh, so that’s what it means, then?” she snapped. “Well, I never could have guessed that on my own. So that’s why I dream of killing strangers—there is danger coming? That’s why I’ve been having these stupid nightmares?”
Eyebright dropped her terrified act and rushed up to Alanki, who took a few startled steps
backwards.
“You know of the danger?” she breathed, black eyes huge and gleaming. “You have seen it too?”
“You are not the only one who sees things, you know,” Alanki said. “Though perhaps I am insane after all, just like you.”
Eyebright stared at her for a few moments, and then seemed to melt under Alanki’s glare. She backed up, averting her eyes and lowering her head.
“I know. You have seen more than I.” she said, dropping back to a quiet tone.
“I—excuse me?”
The doe looked up at Alanki with a new respect. “You have been opened. You have seen the workings of the stars, my dear; ‘tis in your eyes.”
“The working of the stars is violence?”
“I cannot say! But you have seen, certainly. Why did you not tell me?”
“I didn’t know. Well, I did come to speak with you.”
“You are wanting to know what it means, yes?”
“Yes,” said Alanki, relieved they had gotten somewhere.
Eyebright gave a huge, impressive sigh. “Ay, my dear, that I cannot tell you.”
“What? How can you not know?”
“No, I cannot. But you, my dear—you know. You must open your horizons wider. But ‘tis not imaginings, no. You shall soon see.”
Alanki was stunned. She knew, herself? No, that can’t be true. Surely Eyebright knew what it meant; she was just being mysterious again. But she had not sounded mysterious, she had sounded as though she was stating a simple and common fact, like the sky is blue, and water is wet. Why did nothing make sense?
“But, my dear…Please, I shall ask you…”
Alanki looked up, and was surprised to see that Eyebright was pleading.
“Please,” she repeated. “You must help us. Danger is coming. I know it, my dear. I am sure of it. Something terrible. ’Twill bring death, and—”
“—blood and death and blood, I know,” Alanki sighed. “The prophetic usual, no?”
Eyebright said nothing more. Her large, dark eyes were far too similar to that of the fawns—pleading and sad. She seemed genuinely worried, also—and sincere.
Alanki sighed again. However ridiculous Eyebright’s dream had sounded, there was a possibility that trouble was really looming ahead. And Eyebright wasn’t the only one having nightmares, after all. Perhaps, for once, Eyebright was to be taken seriously…And she owed her life to these deer, after all. She could at least agree to help, if only to reassure them.
“Very well. I shall try—but I don’t know what I am supposed to do.”
Eyebright opened her mouth to reply to this, but Delphinium interrupted her, looking at Alanki with something close to sadness.
“You have known, for a long time,” she said. “And Eyebright is right. I have seen nothing, but I can feel the sun darkening. All we ask is all you can do. The tales, Alanki—remember? Never forget the tales. That you fight alongside us, when the day comes.”