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The Gift

Stephanie's Intro, Part A

copyright comidacomida 2018

Mark Twain once said "The Fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time." When I first heard that I didn't really appreciate it; I was nine or ten, I think. I used to believe that it meant someone who gave it their all as often as possible would be able to die fulfilled. I don't feel that way anymore... not since the death of my baby brother, Billy. I guess at that point I stopped thinking about what would happen to ME if I died, and started thinking about who I left behind... because I was one of the people that Billy left behind. More than that, though, was the fact that I learned another lesson that day... that there was more to the big picture than I had ever considered.

Billy had died during summer break-- the year he was going to become a freshman in high school. Summer break in eastern Oregon includes all kinds of outdoor activities but when it's really hot out the best way to spend it is swimming. Even though most of the land is desert there are still some good swimming holes and the one I showed him when he was ten included a rock jutting out over the river; I used to jump in feet first, and he always liked cannonballing, but diving? No... no diving. Billy didn't always listen.

I'd just graduated and I'd already moved across the Cascades into the valley. I'd been taking some time to settle into my new apartment, found a job doing technical writing for a local manufacturing company, and was just starting to get into the swing of being an adult. I found out about Billy via the phone the day he disappeared. My mom had called to see if Billy had said anything about going to a friend's. I hadn't talked to him since I'd moved out; I'd promised that he could come see me before school started. He never got the chance.

It took the sheriff two days to find his body. He was fourteen. I went home immediately and stayed there through the funeral. There are no words I could possibly use to describe the feeling of emptiness and hollowness that losing a little brother left. Billy had been my only sibling and ever-since I could remember he had been in my life. That had all ended.

The day of the funeral was as horrible as you'd expect. The day itself was beautiful especially since the sun was shining and the birds were chirping, but that made the direct contrast to my feelings all the worse. The kids in town were out on the streets watching the procession go by and they certainly didn't help; they were alive, and Billy wasn't. We didn't live in a big place so everyone knew what we were going through, and that also made it worse. I guess you might think that having the sympathy of an entire town would be comforting, but, to be honest, I remember wishing that they'd just stop staring.

My mom chose to have the ceremony as an open casket; at the time I didn't know what to think when I went up to see Billy. It had been my first funeral, and I was trying to just focus on everything going on around me instead of thinking about him. When I couldn't hold out any longer I took my turn and went up to the dais. Whoever got him ready for the funeral did a good job of making him look like he was sleeping but they got his hair wrong. It was just some little detail, but I remember being really torn up inside about it. THAT wasn't Billy-- that wasn't my brother.

There are all sorts of stories about reasons why people touch loved ones at their funeral. The mortician had said during our talk the previous day that it was perfectly normal whether we chose to our not; he had said that people responded differently. He was also kind enough to warn us that, despite how good a job they did on making him LOOK alive, the body wouldn't FEEL like a a living body. When it came to the moment for me to decide I can't for the life of me figure out why I had to touch Billy's cheek-- maybe it was the extra blush the mortician used, or maybe I just had to be sure. Seeing him was one thing, but feeling it was another. Closure, maybe? I got something else.

The moment my hand touched his cheek I realized that I wasn't alone at the dais. A hand covered in a black furred glove touched Billy's left cheek at the exact time my finger touched his right. Billy's skin was cold, and felt... different-- waxy, maybe? Before I had a chance to figure it out my attention had already shifted to whoever was disrespectful enough to take away my private moment with my brother. I looked up, ready to tell them that I wasn't done, but the words got stuck in my mouth when I saw a face that was entirely wrong.

Framed by tassels of gold, silver, and opals was a canine head of black fur; it was attached to a much more humanlike body, finely sculpted like a Roman statue, only instead of it being marble it was covered in fur the same color as a raven's wing. The man or, rather, the jackal man was wearing something that looked a little like a Roman toga, only not-- it was a strange moment, but what really struck me as odd was that he was staring at me in the same way that I figured I was staring back at him. His eyes-- believe it or not, they were the strangest part of him: framed in gold mascara, they had no whites at all to them, rather they were as jet-black as his pupils and his irises were purple-- like, a rich lavender, or more like a vibrant amethyst.

He pulled his arm back immediately, otherworldly eyes focused on me and only me. The Jackal cocked his head to the side as if confused, and, surprisingly, he took a step back as if HE were the one seeing a monster. After a momentary pause it was the Jackal who recovered first, and he spoke. His words were in no language I'd ever heard, a smooth, soft voice emerging from his muzzle with the crystal clarity of any normal human person speaking from a normal human mouth. "Nane atooui."

Stumbling back from the dais, I would have fallen over if not for Kyle and Ashton, two of my brothers' friends. They had been waiting respectfully to see at the bottom of the two steps and, despite barely being freshmen they managed to help me stay on my feet. Kyle looked distracted, but Ashton gave me a strange look, asking "You alright, Steph?"

In that moment I was reminded that Billy told me once that Ashton had been crushing on me since he was twelve; the thought made me incredibly uncomfortable and I quickly freed myself from their support. Ashton stepped aside obligingly but Kyle just remained where he was until Ashton punched him in the arm. "Dude! Move!"

Kyle did as requested and I pushed by them, pausing for a moment to look back at the Jackal. Was I the only person in the room who could tell he was there? I watched the tall, dark canine step through the coffin as if it weren't there... or maybe like he wasn't there. He held a paw out to me as he approached and spoke in halting English combined with that strange language of his. "No. ari-ehmot. Do not run..."

At that point I turned and did exactly what he told me not to do; I ran. Kyle, suddenly breaking out of whatever daze he'd been by my movement called after me. "Hey! Stephanie! Wait!"

I heard him following me even as Ashton called after him... or me? I'm still not sure what he was about to say other than the one thing he did. "Hey!"

He didn't catch up to me until I was in the side hall of the funeral home. I was sitting down on one of their two non-descript, white wooden benches, face in my hands and wondering if I was losing my mind. Despite being beside myself in the middle of what was probably a breakdown I had enough wherewithal to realize that Kyle had followed me so I wasn't surprise when I heard him speak. He was standing in front of me where I sat and his greeting was tentative. "Hey... uh... Steph?"

Kyle was not the kind of teen who was any kind of emotional or supportive; when he was ten he had been arrested for beating a cat to death with baseball bat and at 11 he'd made it a point to kill as many birds as possible with a b-b gun he'd got from his uncle for his birthday. Granted, he hadn't done anything so horrible in the last few years but it wouldn't be much of a stretch to say that he was my least favorite of my brother's friends so I was caught off-guard when I felt his hand rest on my shoulder. When I looked up I very nearly screamed at what I saw.

Meeting my gaze were two large amethyst-colored eyes staring at me from within a forest of black feathers. It was a raven-- a man-sized raven, and it was wearing Kyle's clothes. Whether it was from the sudden way I withdrew or the surprised expression on my face I could tell that he knew something was out of place. It was almost humorous how quickly he recoiled, almost in the same way the Jackal had. He spoke, and his voice was the same as Kyle's. "You... can see... me? You saw him too, didn't you?"

My mom came around the corner a moment later, followed by the Jackal from the dais. Although my eyes went immediately to the black-furred canine he said nothing. My mom, on the other hand, did. "Kyle, honey? Would you give me and Stephanie a minute please?"

The Raven straightened up, nodding to her. He hesitated just a moment, glancing between me and my mom before relenting. "Sure Mrs. B. I've gotta--- I'll be back inside. See ya later, Stef, yeah?"

I didn't respond, but my mom didn't seem to notice. She took a seat on the bench next to me and she put an arm around me. "Honey... your father and I had a talk this morning and--"

My attention wasn't on her, instead I was watching the Jackal, who continued watching me silently without saying a word. I also looked in the direction the Raven-dressed-like-Kyle had gone. My mom had called him Kyle, as if she didn't even realize that it wasn't. I didn't know what was going on but I felt my heart beating in my chest and I couldn't even concentrate on what my mom was talking about. Not, at least, until she said "-- so, we thought you might want to move back in with us... at least until things have calmed down."

I don't know how I'd managed to keep everything together as long as I had. Even though it was probably the most supportive thing my mom could have offered it was the one thing that ended up being too much. I stood up, and pushed my way out of the funeral home through the double doors of the entryway. "I'm going back home."

I don't think she realized that I meant Cherry City. "Alright, honey. I understand. Your father and I will see you soon."

Stepping out into the open air I breathed as if I'd been suffocating, and, a moment later, the tears started. I walked along the road, heading back to my parents' house so I could gather my things and leave. The funeral didn't provide me any closure and seeing my brother one last time hadn't resolved anything. What was worse, I thought, was that I was losing my mind. Was it grief, or had things really become so bad that I was falling apart? It was nearly two blocks before I realized that I was being followed.

I came to a stop beneath the thick needled canopy of a jack pine and turned to stare at the Jackal, who been shadowing me what almost felt like a respectful distance, but nothing about being followed at that moment felt respectful. I hadn't cared whether anybody saw me as I demanded of him "What were you doing to my brother?"

He cocked his head to the side, talking a half-step closer as he lowered his head, ears likewise wilting; it almost seemed to soften his intense gaze... just a little. I got the impression that he was trying to either decipher what I'd said, or was figuring out how to respond. In the end his muzzle opened, and he carefully enuniciated "Not brother. Only... body."

Was I just talking to a figment of my imagination? I'd been writing creative fiction since seventh grade so I didn't put it past my mind to be able to create some strange otherworldly hallucinations to keep me from facing reality but I didn't want to think that I'd gone so far into escapism that I was losing my mind. Despite my reservations, I demanded more than that from the Jackal. "What were you doing to my brother's body?"

"Eating. He was taking the last of Billy's spirit essence."

The voice didn't sound familiar, but it somehow FELT familiar. I turned to see who spoke and I was only half surprised to see that the Raven from the funeral home step out from behind the pine. He was a little taller than he'd been, and he wasn't dressed like Kyle anymore; he was wearing a white tank top, a pair of gray sweatpants, and no shoes, walking on birdlike feet instead. Before I could say anything, however, the Jackal spoke up. "No. Not eat."

The two of them locked gazes for a moment and I took a step to the side so I could see them both at once; I didn't like the idea of having either of them behind me. Once I had a moment to take in what I was seeing I realized that I didn't know anything about either of them; would I be able to trust the bird? The Jackal? Both? Neither? I pushed forward regardless, just wanting to know something-- ANYTHING really, and that took the form of asking the same question I already had. "What were you doing to my brother's body?"

The Jackal quickly spoke up this time. "Not eat, Hemet-netjer. Not eat."

I didn't recognize the words he'd used to separate his three-times spoken comment, but what I did understand really didn't help explain anything. "What then?"

Despite his stoic expression the Jackal was still obviously frustrated by being unable to convey his point. He tried again. "Take... Not eat. Not eat brother."

The Raven took a step closer. "Okay... so you just stole it. That makes things so much better, doesn't it?"

The hint of frustration turned to downright indignation and the Jackal spoke his next words with the suggestion of a growl in his voice. "I take Sheut. You take body. Brother no need Sheut. Human need body."

It was a fairly well presented argument for such a limited vocabulary, but it made little-to-no sense to me... but it apparently got the point across to the Raven, who puffed up indignantly and fluffed his feathers as he responded with bluster. "I was only borrowing it, SCAVENGER! Besides, he's better for it now!"

Having far too much trouble following the conversation, and having far too little emotional and mental energy to bother trying, I turned and just kept walking; it was almost a mile to my parents' home and I didn't want to stay anywhere near the insanity for any longer than necessary. The growing argument apparently heard by none but me continued for several more exchanges until they must have realized that I'd walked off, at which point I heard the Jackal call after me. "Hemet-netjer! Please. No go!"

The Raven was just a heartbeat behind. "Steph! Come on... wait up!

The sound of my name coming from the strange creature's beak was enough to send a shiver through me; he really did know me. Spinning around, I confronted him. "How do you know who I am, and why were you dressed like Kyle in the funeral home? What's going on?!"

We were standing in front of a small service station and the attendant glanced my way; I recognized him-- it was Dakota. He'd graduated a year before me. Rather than confront me on my strange behavior (if my impression that nobody but me could see the two of them then to him it must have looked like I'd lost my mind), he turned around and marched right into the mini-mart attached to the lot. I sighed, shaking my head, and continued walking.

The Raven and Jackal both followed after; the former bobbled along, making a quick half-flap so he could catch up and walk beside me. "I AM Kyle... or, I guess you could say I WAS Kyle... I mean--"

The Jackal spoke up from behind us, maintaining his seemingly respectful distance. "He take body."

The Raven quickly corrected him again. "Borrowed. I BORROWED Kyle's body."

So much talking, but still no closer to an answer. Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I tried again. "So what does that even mean?"

The Raven maintained a quickened pace as he walked beside me, his odd gait requiring him to take three steps for every two of mine. As he spoke he gestured with his wings in a way that seemed eerily similar to gestures a human might make, his primary feathers seeming to mimic fingers with their surreal dexterity. "Okay... so, spirits have a lot of different powers, and one of them involves merging with a human who is receptive to Skin Riding."

I cut him off, already lost by his third word. "Wait-- spirits? You're saying you're both spirits?"

The Jackal confirmed. "Yes. Spirit. I spirit. He spirit."

The Raven picked up where the Jackal left off. "Humans are surrounded by spirits all the time, but most of you can't see us."

I'd finally received a piece of information that I was able to use, and I did so by following up with another question. "So how can I see you now?"

I was surprised that the Jackal had moved up to stand on my right rather than behind me. I hadn't noticed it until he spoke. "You touch body. I touch body. I take Sheut and you now see spirit."

There was that word again. I didn't know what it meant, so I asked. "What is a Sheut?"

The Jackal seemed confused by my question. "Sheut is Sheut. It is part of you."

After speaking he pointed and I followed his finger to the ground. I came to a stop and turned to where he was pointing, but his digit moved again. It took almost two complete circles before I realized he was pointing at my shadow. "A shadow?"

He simply repeated his earlier statement. "Sheut is Sheut."

The Raven took the opportunity to interject. "He's an old spirit, Steph... he still thinks the world works like it did when he was young."

I took to observe the Jackal, looking at him even as he looked back at me. "He looks Egyptian... kind of like a weird Anubis."

The Jackal grimaced at the name and he grunted, looking like he'd just eaten a lemon. "No. Not Anubis. I Anapa. I spirit, not god. God not spirit. Spirit not god."

At least I was able to make sense of most of his statement. "Your name is Anapa?"

The Jackal nodded, motioning over his shoulder with a pointed gesture. "Humans... not now-- long time... say Anapa. I Anapa."

I glanced at the Raven next. "And what about you?"

He puffed up slightly at my question, one of his feet fidgeting over the other, not unlike a human wringing their hands. "Well... uh... you've been calling me Kyle for about two years... you can just keep calling me that, unless you'd rather choose a different name?"

That brought the discussion back around to a very concerning topic. "So, you... possessed Kyle?"

He let out a very indignant squawk at the question, flapping his wings like a chicken defending its nest. "What? No! I didn't POSSESS Kyle-- I just BORROWED him."

He wasn't making a very good case in his argument and I took a step further from him as we walked. "So what's the difference?"

The Raven let out a raspy sigh, which almost reminded me of a hoarse caw. "Do you know that Kyle drowned his neighbor's puppy?"

I hadn't known that, no. "I guess it makes sense... he killed a cat and used to shoot birds, but I didn't know he drowned a puppy."

The Raven nodded. "Yeah. He was a quite a little shit. Probably woulda grown up to be a serial killer or something if I hadn't stepped in."

Although spirits were a new concept to me something about one of them casually calling someone 'a little shit' was almost funny-- almost. The more important portion of his statement was what earned my follow-up question however, and it wasn't anything close to funny. "What do you mean 'probably would have'?"

The Raven turned to me and his beak, strangely expressive, left me with the impression that he was smiling. "When a spirit Skin Rides we don't CONTROL a human, but we can help influence them in small ways. I'd been watching Kyle for months before I saw a chance to change him for the better. While I'm not sure he's made a complete turn-around when I that you could see the scavenger there I knew I had to--"

Anapa let out another low toned growl. "No say it. I no take body. You take body. You take Ren. You take Ba. You change Jib. No listen to bird, Hemet-netjer. Bird no good for you."

Our lengthy walk had brought us to Hiacinth St, and I made a left; I was only a block from my parents' house. "Why should I listen to either of you?"

Both of the spirits came to a halt. They exchanged glances for a moment and neither of them said a thing, looking back to me silently. I also stopped, facing them fully once I realized that I'd finally left them speechless. "What?"

It was the Jackal who responded. "You can."

It didn't really answer my question. "Huh?"

The Raven elaboarted it more clearly, raising one of his four-toed talons. "In the last three hundred years I can count on one foot the number of humans who could see spirits."

Although he made his point, it still really didn't answer my question. "So? What if I don't want to talk to you right now... or ever?"

The Raven puffed up indignantly but Anapa looked genuinely hurt. The bird that had been Kyle stepped off the side-walk talking quickly and angrily to himself in what sounded a lot like some Nordic language while Anapa slowly sat down, eyes lowering to the ground as his ears drooped. Despite myself I couldn't help but make the comparison between the Jackal and a whipped dog. Before I could say or do anything, he looked back up, offering me a paw. "I show you?"

The question didn't seem to be a response to my previous question, and his limited words gave me the impression that he was seeking permission for I-didn't-know-what. There was a strange, unreadable sense of... SOMETHING in his eyes and, despite myself, I found myself putting my hand in his padded paw. He drew back right before our fingers met and I felt that same strange spark I encountered when we had touched Billy in unison.

There was no great change or any mystical or magical explosion. There was no burst of light or Hollywood-style flashback, but something was different. A warmth filled me-- a sense of belonging and contentment. Memories of running through the fields behind the house with Billy; I recalled our trips into town on our bikes; I remembered the first time mom and dad let him stay up with me until midnight on New Years Eve. Those feelings, all combined into one made me feel... everything. I whimpered softly as it all came crashing down around me. "He's gone... my brother's gone. Billy's gone..."oh Billy..."

I fell into the grass, going to my knees as I cried. I had been numb at the funeral home; I had been confused and angry on the march back from the ceremony; all of that had passed, and I sobbed alone on the street corner... only, I wasn't alone. The Raven pushed a single primary feather into the Jackal's sternum like an accusatory index finger. "What'd you do to her? What'd you do to Steph?"

Anapa pushed the wing away from him. "I help her."

Kyle moved immediately over to me, reaching out with a wing. I got up on my own and began walking away from them both, wiping at the tears in my eyes. They followed after me, the Raven arguing with the Jackal. "You didn't help... she's hurting."

Apana apparently didn't agree. "She hurt, but not bad hurt."

Attempting to ignore the two of them, I approached my parents' house and pulled my keys out; I still had a key to the front door. Despite my eyes still being blurry with tears I still caught sight of movement through the tiny accent-window on its top; something brown and furry was waiting on the other side. Even as I opened the door I heard Kyle speak up from behind me. "Oh crap."

I came face-to-face with what looked like an enormous, humanoid Grizzly. He was wearing some kind of thick, gray-furred vest and loose-fitting red cloth pants and held an Ushanka in one paw. He also had a very intimidating snarl on his muzzle and he growled, staring past me at the spirits with dangerous gleaming golden eyes. His deep, imposing voice boomed out in time with his gnashing teeth. "Ukhodite, cherti! You cannot have her! Stephanie is--"

I stepped back in surprise, and he immediately froze, his eyes going from the spirits behind me to fall directly on me. "Lapushka... you can see me?"

Anapa noted calmly "She sees."

Quickly stepping out past me, the Bear interposed himself between me and the other spirits. "Get inside, my girl... these two are nothing but trouble."

The Raven cawed in objection. "Look again, papa-bear. Purple eyes, not red. PURPLE. I don't want to hurt Steph. I've known her for--"

The Grizzly growled. "Known her? You--" he paused, sniffing the air. "You're a Skin Rider! You smell like Billy's friend! Bes!"

I didn't know what the last word meant, but from the way the Bear spat it probably wasn't anything good. To be honest, at that point I just wanted things to start making sense. "It's okay... they haven't done anything wrong. I just... I want to be done with all of this. I'm gonna get my stuff and go."

Kyle remained in the yard. "I... I can help you pack if you want, Steph."

The Bear puffed up immediately, the snarl returning to his face. "You--"

I don't know what I was thinking at that moment-- maybe I was just tired of arguing. "Fine... come on, all of you."

Still growling, the dejected Bear followed directly after me, putting himself between me and the other spirits. He called over his shoulder. "I am watching you. If you try anything I-"

Anapa held up a paw in response. "She Hemet-netjer. I no hurt. I help."

As if that explained everything, the Grizzly suddenly seemed much more relax. "Well... okay then... good."

Kyle let out an indignant bird-like sound. "Uh... yeah. What he said. I'm here to help Stephanie. It's what Billy would've wanted anyway."

The Bear's growl returned immediately as he wheeled in the Raven. "Don't you DARE use his name, Bes! I won't stand for it, and I'll--"

The Bird quickly interjected, backing away and speaking quickly. "She invited me! Stephanie said I could come in! Remember the Accord!"

The Grizzly snorted, turning back toward where I was heading, and followed me to the hallway. I felt his presence behind me but it didn't have the same kind of imposing, disruptive sensation that the other spirits had; he felt comforting and familiar, like he belonged there, and, for some strange reason I wasn't surprised when I felt his cold nose when he leaned down and kissed me on the top of my head. "You have always been too kind, Lapushka... but I am here."

There was that word again: Lapushka. Nobody had called me that since my grandmother. My mom's mother moved to the States when she was a little girl and was the last member of her family who spoke any Russian. It felt familiar and comforting, not unlike the Bear. I entered into my old room where I'd been staying since I arrived and began repacking; I hoped to be gone before my parents returned. I looked to a shelf of my old childhood things, eyes settling on a small cherry wood carving my grandmother had given me on my sixth birthday. It was a grizzly bear. Taking it off the shelf, I added it to my luggage, smiling to myself as I remembered the name my grandmother had given it. "Medved."

The Bear smiled too.