IMPETIGO

Meadowlands

- 1 -

The cool breath of the new day brushed through the fur on his back. Some rays of morning light found their way past the summits, delicately lingering in the golden mists that covered the top of the mountain, towering in the far distance over a bed of steep hills and patches of pine forests.

He tightened his grip on his wooden lance and raised it towards the mountain to greet whatever god might have resided on its top.

Maybe some mysterious creature was watching the valley right at this moment, inspecting what the trees had to tell about the new day and reading arcane words in the flowing river.

Whatever it did, he didn't want it to spot a careless wanderer shambling around the marshland. He preferred it to see a ram, standing upright and saluting the morning light.

They said that the gods are pleased if their doings are acknowledged, how they move the early mists and guide the young waters. It shows them that they can safely move on to fulfill grander deeds instead of watching some ignorant wanderer. They said it's dangerous if a god's glance lingers on you for too long.

The light danced on the lake, occasionally scattered when the wind ruffled its surface. Some stray rays bit his eyes and he blinked.

He took it as a sign that he was allowed to move on.

He relaxed his shoulders and moved the lance around, tried some of the movies he had watched the others practice and cut the air with it to listen it snap.

He ran his hooves over the tip of the lance. If he had had a sharp stone or maybe a piece of slate he could have made a blade for it. That would have been much better than just a wooden stick with a sharpened end.

But slate was rare and the others didn't share. They said that he should stick to his own tools. But how was he supposed to fend off anything bigger than a shrew with a weapon like this?

The others always portrayed themselves as the scruffy and sturdy warriors of the meadowlands, but he thought they were just some haughty bullies with big arms and big mouths. They were there to protect the village, but instead they always eyed and laughed at everyone who wasn't as big as them.

They had a duty, but they took it for a privilege.

He huffed.

He would have loved to know some of the moves. He would surely have learned them quickly.

And he was good at remembering things. Not like those guys who frequently forgot their equipment and once had to chew down a pine tree, because they had left their axes at home.

They should have used their big heads to knock it over. That's what the village chief did each time when they returned with a rash on their butts and balls, because they had decided to rest in a bed of pepper larkspur.

Yeah, the peculiarities of the plants of the valley was another thing they frequently forgot about.

The villagers said that the chief had gotten his keratotic head from once having knocked over an entire pine grove in frustration.

He spun the lance in the air, until a sudden noise of rustling grass made him jump. He lost control of the wooden stick that backlashed into his face.

He puffed with anger and surprise and quickly turned around to look into the face of a young ram, smiling at him.

"Ike!", he said vexed.

"Didn't want to startle you, Brun", the ram replied.

Yeah, right. Hadn't anyone ever told him that he shouldn't sneak up on an exercising warrior? Ike's sudden appearance could have made Brun trip and fall and hurt his head on a mossy rock.

Yeah, a very uncomfortable mossy rock. One that hurts.

Besides, Ike is no warrior. He shouldn't sneak around like one.

"You're up terribly early today", Ike said and brushed some strands of hair away that kept covering his face, but the morning breeze pushed them right back.

"I'm an early bird", Brun replied and raised the wooden lance.

Ike didn't seem to take him seriously and just eyed the lance curiously.

"Right. Maybe an early bird can need some extra hooves to carry all those swamp nuts?"

Brun grunted and lowered the lance again.

Yeah, sure. Collecting swamp nuts. That's what he was told to do. That was his meager duty. For the good of the village. For the Horned Runners.

The village didn't need more warriors, but it needed some smelly onions that grew in the mud.

Brun grabbed the basket he had left in the grass and raised it in the air like a pathetic trophy. "On to muddy adventures!", he said disenchanted.

"Be careful", Ike said while they were scouting the valley for the right spot to dig up the ground, "swamp nuts can be vicious bastards."

Brun just grumbled at the lame joke and rammed the wooden stick into the ground to probe for the hidden onions. He poked the earth until he found a soft spot, but he felt no swamp nuts.

"But they're not as vicious as something else", Ike continued.

Brun didn't know what that was supposed to mean.

"I know why you're up this early", Ike said.

"Ahem?", Brun didn't respond. He spotted an old tree trunk, paled and covered in lichen. He remembered that swamp nuts like to grow between the roots of dead trees.

He slowly made his way across the muddy soil and poked around again.

"It's because of Fara, isn't it?", Ike said.

The sudden remark made Brun misstep, right into a puddle of greenish mud. He grumbled as he pulled back his foot while he felt the rotten sludge between his hooves.

He tried to ignore the remark and poked around some more. The stick touched something. There was definitely something under the mud.

"If you're too late somebody else will have asked her", Ike continued.

Brun grumbled again and pulled back his stick.

Success. There was a swamp nut sticking on its tip. An especially ugly one. This one was perfect for Ike.

He pulled it off and threw it to the ram. Instead of catching it the nut bounced off of Ike's belly and fell back into the mud.

"I know your mouth works fine", Brun said, "but can you instead use your hooves here?"

"But my mouth wants to talk some sense into you. I'm just his lowly servant."

"I'll go back when I'm finished here", Brun replied dryly and put the stick back down. "This is my duty."

He pulled out another nut. Oh, this one was especially big. And ugly. He threw it over and Ike collected it to put it in the basket.

"Besides", Brun said, "why should I ask her anyway? She's one of the chief's daughters. Why would she accept some guy who's duty it is to pull dirty onions from a swamp? There're much better rams around. She'll find someone good."

"And that's why you're hiding from her?"

Brun's head jumped up with a gobsmacked stare.

"No!", he quickly replied. "I --", he stuttered and was thinking of a reply that wouldn't make him sound like a scaredy-cat. "I can't just abandon my duty here. That would be pathetic. I'll do as I'm told, I'll be a good ram for the village and if this means I'm too late, then that's okay."

"Don't be such a grumpy-snout to yourself!", Ike said. "Sounds like you've eaten too much bitter grass."

"But it's true", Brun affirmed.

There were basically two kinds of rams in the village: the sturdy ones who could break tree trunks into two with their giant heads and who could put their seeds into ewes as many as there're pebbles in a river bed -- and then there were the other rams, the scrawny ones with strawy fur and tiny hooves who could only break their short legs if they tripped over said pebbles.

Why would Fara choose one of the smallish rams if she could freely pick from the big ones? She surely wanted a big and strong ram who could give her big and strong lambs. A warrior and not someone who just liked to play warrior.

"Well", Ike said, "there're other things that are also true."

"For example?"

"That you're not as bad as you think."

"And what do you think I have that could interest her?"

"Well, you --", Ike thought about an answer for an awkwardly long time, "-- your horns have grown much bigger."

"They're not that big", Brun replied and ran his hoof over his horns.

"They're big enough. Besides, you really don't want to have huge horns. They'll only curl up in the end and poke your eyes out. And nobody wants a ram with no eyes."

Brun pulled some more nuts from the mud and threw them over.

"Those long-neck Runners are lucky", Ike said as he picked them up. "They lose their antlers every year and I heard they give them to others as a present. No doe can refuse some big antlers."

It was a shame that Ike had never learned to write. All his odd stories would be left untold once his agile mouth fell silent.

"Why aren't you in the village and ask a ewe?", Brun asked to turn the topic around.

Ike waved his hoof. "I'm not made for ewes", he said and collected the unearthed nuts. "I won't breed. I have curly fur and see that dark patch?", he pointed at a wave of dark wool running down his back. "My mother took the seed of one of the Mountain Runners and had his lambs. But I was the only one who survived. Now that she's dead I'm the only ram with this kind of fur. No ewe will breed with me."

Brun remembered the stories about the terrible winters some years ago. Many lambs died in the cold or from starvation when the valley wasn't able to provide what the village cried for.

He recalled his mother telling him about his sister who died before she turned one. It was one more reason to fulfill the task he was given and collect those smelly onions. For the village, to not let it starve.

"I've been thinking about going to the mountains", Ike suddenly said. "To look for the Mountain Runners."

Brun looked at him. He thought it was meant as a joke, but Ike seemed calm.

"But they say Mountain Runners are rough and martial", Brun replied.

"Maybe they are. But I just wonder how they live and how they speak. You know, how it's like to be there, far away. I think it'd be a great journey. I'm partially there already anyway." He pushed away the curly hair from his face and smiled.

"You'll probably die on the way", Brun said jokingly and collected the last nuts he was able to dig up.

"Yeah", Ike said and chuckled. "It'd be a great journey still."

He tied the basked full of nuts and grabbed one of its handles.

Brun grabbed the other and together they carried the heavy basked through the valley, full of nuts for the village, a sign that they had fulfilled their task.

They had earned another night inside the protective fence, another meal and the insurance to be given a task for another day to come.

Brun thought about what Ike had said.

It was a strange idea to imagine a lonely ram going on a journey to a faraway place that nobody even know much about. The Horned Runners weren't really known for their scribemanship. They didn't have any libraries or halls full of rare artifacts to illustrate their lush history, only one dusty room at the back of the chief's house with lots of weird, mostly broken trinkets nobody had ever used and a bleached-out map that was older than the building itself.

Most information was conveyed orally and many of it was indistinguishable from fairy tales or spooky stories.

"How'd you even know where to go on your journey?", Brun asked curiously.

Ike flapped his ears. "Towards the mountains. You know the swath, where the river meets the big rocks." He glanced over his shoulder.

Brun followed his gaze to a spot far away in the distance, where the cool wind slowly drove a wall of mist through the valley.

"Mother told me. She didn't remember much about the dark ram, but she knew the direction he went. That's where I'd go to. I heard there's a village of the Long-Neck Runners somewhere. They're said to be friendly. If I could only read the map. You can read, can't you?" He looked back at Brun.

"A few words", Brun replied slightly mystified.

"That'd be enough. A few words means a few steps into the right direction."

He started to whistle. Considering his agile mouth the tune wasn't really as pleasant as one might have expected, but it was good enough and carried the two rams across the meadow.

"My mother always told me that the Mountain Runners would surely kill me when they see me", Ike said. "But she also said that the Fanged Runners would do the same. And the ones with crooked necks."

"Sounds like your mother was a cheerful person."

"Joyful as sunshine. She also said that I'd be delicious. And that I should be happy if I ever happen to be eaten. I think that's a good advice. Much better than screaming blood and carnage." He laughed and whistled again.

"You really should ask Fara", he then said.

Brun's ears jumped up. He didn't reply instantly and instead let his eyes idly move over the meadow. "Maybe", he finally said.

"You've nothing to lose", Ike said. "If she doesn't want you, nothing will change. You just carry on. But if she wants you you'll have a completely new life. Males with mates are shown much more respect than loners. You'll be fine."

Brun nodded silently.

He thought about his words while Ike started whistling again. He watched the dark curls of the fur on his back bobbing up and down with every step.

He wished that he could be as free-spirited as Ike. Was it a trait given to him by the blood of the Mountain Runners?

The others said that Ike was weird and a mouthy good-for-nothing, but Brun though he was alright. The others heard him babble, but they never really listened. Under all the curly fur and silly chatter was an idealistic guy with more wits than the whole flock of warriors combined. Brun much preferred his presence to the presence of the other villagers.

Ike suddenly turned his head towards the forest and stopped whistling.

"Something wrong?", Brun asked.

Ike's eyes moved along the dark line of trees in the distance. The dawn hadn't chased away the shadows of last night yet. Ike's nose flapped as he inhaled the air.

"Doesn't seem so", he replied and after another moment of inspecting the shady trees he turned his head back and continued whistling his wonky tune.

The mists moved on and disappeared in the distance. The wind whispered in the grass. Arcane words only otherworldly creatures could understand.

I watched the valley. I watched them walk home.

Something lingered in the shadows, tucked away behind the trees, behind the rocks.

I watched it watching them.

<<< PREV PART | FIRST PART | NEXT PART >>>

---

© 2018, Kranich im Exil

Part of the collection "Weltenzoo"

---

:: www.furaffinity.net/user/kranich-im-exil ::