FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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Chapter Thirty

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The pup danced in swirling sands. He twisted and twirled across the dune. The young urd'thin's gray-furred ears swiveled to the strains of music that played only in his head. He skipped across the sandy ridge, circling his hands in the air. The breeze shifted, and the blowing sand swirled around him, following his movements. It dusted his soft gray fur with hints of golden grit.

At the highpoint of the dune, the urd'thin pup paused his dance, lowered his hands. The sand settled around him. He squinted against the harsh sunlight, gazing across the sunbaked lands. In one direction, the sands gave way to dark reddish earth, cracked and broken, and littered with black stones. In the other, sunburnt sand stretched as far as he could see. Piles of shattered gray rock and stands of hardy trees around small springs of life-giving water brought shape to the horizon. In the distance, towards home, Father brought shape to the river.

Father was silhouetted against the horizon, a shadow beneath the roiling red-orange sun. He stood atop one of several large, hollow rings of battered stone arranged in a broken line. He drew shapes in the air with his fingers. Though the pup could not see the earth beyond the stone forms, he knew it bent to Father's will. Father was the tribe's strongest shaper, after all. Through Father, the river would find their new home. It always did.

The pup's bushy gray tail wagged a few times, and a smile tugged at his muzzle. He was always so proud of his father. He worked so hard for their tribe, and yet no matter how weary he was, he was always ready to spin another tale for his son, to make the shadows play around the fire while the whole tribe looked on. The pup just hoped when he was grown, he'd be as strong and helpful as father.

He blinked, licked his nose, and splayed his ears. He'd almost forgotten. He was supposed to be helping right now. It was so easy to get lost in the music whenever its beautiful strains echoed in his head. But now was not the time for playing and dancing. Now was the time for collecting food. Come to think of it, he'd already done that. But where had he left his pack? The pup shielded his eyes with a hand, looking around until he spotted his belongings at the bottom of the sand dune.

Though he could have easily trekked down the dune, the pup had a better idea. He dropped down onto his rump, mindful of his tail, and then lay on his back. He took a deep breath, and rolled to the side, onto the dune's steep slope. The pup tumbled and rolled down the hill, his vision spinning between clear blue sky and fine golden sand. As he hurtled down the side of the sandbank he gave a gleeful cry, his voice carried across the open land.

When he reached the bottom, he rolled a few more paces and jumped to his feet. Immediately his stomach lurched and his knees buckled as he stumbled, his vision still spinning. He dropped to his hands and knees, panting. The ground kept rolling beneath him for a few long, stomach-churning moments. He waited till his dizziness had faded before he staggered back to his feet, spitting grit.

After regaining his balance, the young urd'thin walked to his pack. He'd left it sitting in the sand while he played atop the dune. The bag was gray, scaly leather, made from the hide of the big rakatch lizards that dwelled in oasis waters. Rakatch were dangerous, but also slow enough to be slain by careful hunters. Their hides made for excellent leather, their bones for charms, weapons and armor, and the meat from one of them was enough to feed the whole tribe. The pup's breeches, the only garment he wore, also came from a rakatch.

The pup crouched alongside his pack. Stitched across its flap in purple thread were the symbols for his name. Vakaal. He ran the pads of his fingers over the stitching, smiling. The liked the color, it was so bright and cheerful. And such purple hues were a rare sight in their home. The thread itself came from bartering with one of the rare groups of human traders they encountered. Strange creatures, humans. With no fur to protect them from the sand and sun they had to wrap themselves in shrouds of cloth to just to travel.

Vakaal opened his pack to peer inside. He smiled, glad to see the day's efforts still waited within. He'd spent the morning trekking to another, smaller oasis. There, he'd scaled the rough barked trees to pluck red hand-fruit from the coils of vines growing near the tree tops. Each fruit was shaped roughly like a hand with half curled fingers, coated in thick, crimson rind. Their sweet scent wafted from within his bag.

When his belly rumbled, Vakaal counted up the fruit. He'd collected just as many as asked, plus one extra for himself. With a happy chirp, Vakaal pulled a fruit from his pack and plopped himself down on the sands. He drew a small, curved knife from the sheath sewn in the side of his bag. With deft, practiced motions, Vakaal cut through the hand-fruit's rind and peeled it away to expose the pale, juicy flesh beneath. He tossed bits of rind aside and took a bite of fruit. The pup wagged his bushy gray tail at the delightful taste.

So good.

Despite the sweetness, the first bite was a little gritty thanks to the sand. He pulled his water bladder from his pouch, and took a drink to rinse his muzzle. He swallowed the mouthful of water, sand and all. Father always taught him water was too precious to waste while traveling. With a clean mouth, the fruit was even more enjoyable. A single fruit was enough to make a good meal for the small pup. He could have fit more in his belly, but greed didn't feed a tribe. The pup knew when everyone did their part and no one was greedy, everyone always got enough to eat.

While he ate, the pup sculpted the sand around him. He dragged his fingers through the sand, making furrows. Vakaal lifted his hand, and the furrows rose to follow. Sand poured across itself to build the little mounds higher. He curled his fingers in the air, and the sand furrows spiraled together, rising into a twisting cylinder. Tendrils poked out from the top of it, flattening out. More grains rolled up the little spire, building little lines around it. By the time he was licking his other hand clean, he'd sculpted something that vaguely resembled the trees he'd climbed to fetch the fruit.

Life is a story we shape.

Father's wise words made him smile. Their lives were stories started by the gods, and left to be shaped by their children. The pup flicked his fingers in the air, and the sand tree blasted apart, the sands picked up by the winds and returned to the rolling dunes. Father was always better at shaping than he was. That didn't stop him from practicing. Father encouraged him anyway, told him some day he'd be the tribe's prime shaper, and when that time came, he'd be stronger still than Father ever was. The pup doubted that but he was determined to try just the same.

The pup sheathed his knife and hopped to his feet. He hooked his water skin back in place and slung his pack across his shoulders. In the distance, Vakaal's father was still working near the towering rings of hollow stone. Vakaal made that his destination. As he walked, Vakaal splayed his ears to shade his muzzle. It was always hot during the day, especially when the sun was at its zenith. Vakaal smiled. He liked using that word. Made him sound like a wise old elder.

"Zenith." He giggled to himself, hoping across a patch of unusually rough looking sand. Rough sands often indicated buried fang worms, or worse, thorn spiders. Get his foot bitten by one of those, and they might have to cut it off before the venom could spread. He winced, pinning his ears. "Wouldn't be at my zenith anymore."

Vakaal tilted his head. Was that how the word worked? He wasn't sure. Not that it mattered. It was his word and he could use it however he wanted. After all, the gods gave his people the gift of many languages to better tell their stories. As far as Vakaal was concerned, that meant he could twist words and use them in any way he saw fit.

Strains of beautiful music played in Vakaal's head. The melody was odd, alien and yet somehow familiar at the same time. The sounds reminded him of the instruments his tribe often played at their celebrations around the fire at night. They had drums made of taut skeins stretched over hollow wood, strings made from gut and sinew, flutes and simple pipes carved from bone and bough. But the songs in his head, he could never remember hearing from the tribe. Maybe they were songs he was meant to teach the others. He'd have to learn to play an instrument, first.

The pup hummed the music to himself. In a few steps, he'd gone from walking to skipping across the hot sands. Though the sun scorched the sun during the day, his foot pads were used to it, and he rarely bothered to wrap his feet in cloth to protect them from the heat. The song in his mind grew louder, and his skipping turned to dancing. He spun across the sands, his tail swishing through the air. He skidded a few paces, kicking up dust, then pirouetted around, backpack thumping against him. He waved his hands as he twirled through each step, and the sands rose around him.

Clouds of sand swirled and cloaked him, an ephemeral golden weave matching his every step. Tendrils of gold rose around him, twined together and spun into little whirlwinds that danced across the desert. The pup sang to himself, orchestrating the song and the sands with his movements, his gestures, his thoughts.

"Someone's in a good mood."

Father's voice broke his reverie. The pup lurched to a stop. All the sands cascaded back to earth all around him. He blinked and tilted his head back, staring up at Father. He'd been so lost in his own little world he'd almost danced muzzle-first into the tall, rounded cylinder of stone upon which his father stood. He giggled to himself, perked his ears and nodded.

"Hi, Father!"

"Heya, Pup." Father smiled and crouched down atop the stone to peer down at him. Father was lean and strong, with gray fur just like him. Ridged black horns crowned Father's head, just above his dark, loving eyes. His ears were much larger than Vakaal's, and Vakaal's own horns were yet nothing but little nubs protruding from his fur. Like the pup, Father wore only a pair of hide breeches. Shaper's runes carved from bone and colorful stones adorned father's arms. The charms of a historian were woven into the fur around his neck. "You finished collecting fruit?"

"Uh huh!" Vakaal beamed, flashing his sharp little teeth. "Lemme show you."

"I believe you, you don't have to show-"

Vakaal wasn't listening. He backed up a few paces, then sprinted forward and leapt at the cylindrical stone upon which Father stood. Vakaal scrabbled at it, grabbing for purchase, digging his toe claws against the rock. But years of wind and sand had worn the outside smooth and he was unable to maintain his hold for more than a moment before he slipped and flopped back off the stone. Vakaal landed against his fruit-filled pack. He grunted, some of the air knocked from his lungs. He found himself staring at the blue sky, little motes whirling his vision.

"Ow."

"Vakaal!" Father leapt off the stone and was crouched at his side in an instant. "You alright?"

Vakaal blinked, tilting his head to peer at his father. The older urd'thin was silhouetted against the afternoon sun, outlined in fire. "You look like an angry spirit."

Father slipped his hand under Vakaal's ears to cradle him. "Did you hit your head on a rock?"

The pup giggled, and sat up. "No! I'm fine." He twisted free of his pack. "I think I squished the fruit though." His ears drooped and he glanced away. "Sorry."

Father laughed and ruffled the fur between Vakaal's ears. "I was more worried you'd squished your brain. Don't worry about the fruit. It gets squished when we eat it anyway, right?"

"Yeah." Vakaal grinned, and eased up to his feet. His back throbbed, but he wasn't about to tell Father. He twisted a little, miming a stretch while he tried to work the ache out. "Did you make the river?"

Father chuckled and took Vakaal's hand. "We don't make things. We just change them a little to better suit our lives. It's not done yet, but want to see?"

"Yeah!" Vakaal squeezed father's hand, and Father squeezed his back. Father's touch was warm, and strong, and comforting. Whatever happened in the world, he knew Father would keep him safe. Father would keep them all safe. He pointed at the cylinder of old stone half-buried in the sand. "Can I climb up there too?"

"Only if you let me help you this time. I don't want you falling again."

The pup nodded. He didn't want to fall again either. Father guided him around to the other side of the smooth, curved stone. A wide, rectangular opening on the other side made for a perfectly placed foothold. Father released his hand, then clambered up the side of the stone, using the opening to help scale it. Once he was atop it, he got down on his belly, and extended his arm back down towards the hole in the rock.

"Use that hole to help get your footing. Then grab my hand, I'll pull you up."

Vakaal reached up to the bottom of the crevice, and pulled himself up with a grunt of effort. He dug his toe-claws against the time-smoothed stone, working his way up the side of it. When he had a chance, he peered into the hole. Like all the cylindrical chunks of stone that lay in the uneven line, the inside of it was hollow. This one was dark inside, and looked mostly filled with sand. Some of them had space enough to crawl into, but this one looked too buried. He climbed a little higher, and grabbed Fathers hand as soon as he could.

Father hauled him up onto the top of the rock. "Careful, the stone is a little slippery. The sand's worn it smooth."

The young urd'thin opened his muzzle, then clapped it shut again. If he told his father that he already knew that, then Father might realize he'd been climbing up things he wasn't supposed to again. Instead he just squeezed his father's hand, and smiled. "Okay!"

From an elevated position, it was easy to see all the immense, rounded gray stones strewn across the sand. There were at least a half dozen of them, stretching in a broken, uneven line. At the far end of them, more shattered rocks rose from a dune. Around some of the stones, smaller rocks littered the sand, all worn smooth just like the larger ones.

In the distance, their current home was silhouetted against the horizon. For now, they lived amidst a copse of trees around an oasis. There were stone walls there, a good place to build shelters. There was wood for fires, and water for bathing and drinking. But as the seasons changed and the world shifted and water dwindled, they would move again, as they always had. They often followed the animals. The animals roamed, and so did the tribe. And wherever they went, Father helped shape the world to better suit their needs.

An old riverbed carved a sunken line through the desert. When they'd first come to this place, Father showed him how the ground in the bottom was cracked and brown. He explained it was different from the dead, red earth in the far distance. Where that earth had not known water or life for ages, this river bed thirsted because it had tasted water. It would flow with the seasons, when the rains came and connected the oasis. But if the river flowed now, between the rains, it would sustain not just the tribe, but the animals they followed even longer.

So Father shaped the river.

"Shape it!" The pup giggled and bounced on his toes. "I wanna see!"

"Alright, pup." Father smiled and ruffled Vakaal's fur. "But only a little. I'm about done for the day."

The pup nodded. He knew shaping the world was arduous work. If Father worked too hard, he came home weary. The more he shaped, the more it wore him down. But the tribe was not desperate now, so there was no need for Father to wear himself out. He had plenty of time to change things for the better, and make their lives easier for another season.

"Watch, Vakaal."

Vakaal watched as Father lifted his hands. He splayed his gray furred fingers in the air, set his ears back in determination. In the distance, Vakaal traced the line of the riverbed with his eyes. The cracked, sunken ground wound away from the dwindling oasis where they'd set their village. Yet as he watched in awe, the very earth itself shifted. It rolled, turning, changing. The land moved, and the riverbed curled back in on itself. A new furrow formed in the distant ground, a rut between dunes.

Father pushed his hands apart, growling in effort. The dunes shifted further away from another, and the rut between them grew deeper. It stretched across the earth, a fissure in the sand. The whole of the riverbed turned towards it, like a snake coiling towards its prey. Father pushed one hand out to side the side, then tightened his fingers into a fist. The pup followed the invisible line his father's arm made, pointing towards the horizon. There in the riverbed, the dry earth grew darker. It turned to mud as water seeped up from the ground. More water welled up, spilling across dusty surface. Father grit his teeth and growled again as a puddle formed in a low spot.

"There." Father gave a long sigh, lowering his hands. "That's enough change for today."

"That was amazing!" Vakaal chittered laughter, jumping up and down on the slick stone. "Do it again!"

Father laughed with him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "No, that's it for today. I've already worked at it all morning. I'll get back to work tomorrow after I've rested." Come on, let's climb down. We can go fill our canteens and see how that water is."

With his father's help, the pup climbed down from the rounded, hollow stone. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the pup took off. He tipped his head back, yowling joy at the deep blue sky. He couldn't wait to see his father's shaping first hand, to taste the water coaxed from earth, as if willed into being from the great nothingness itself. Behind him his father yelled something, but the pup was already in full sprint.

As he neared the riverbed, he realized it was deeper and with sharper banks than he expected. The pup tried to skid to a halt, and stumbled through the sands. To stop himself from pitching headfirst over the edge, he dropped down onto his butt. He slide across the sand, flew over the edge and then dropped hard onto his rump on the sloped bank. With a pained yelp, the pup bounced down the incline until he came to a rest at the bottom of the dry river.

Vakaal pushed himself up to his feet, wobbling. He dusted off his breeches, then curled his tail around and shook the dirt from the fur best he could. He'd needed a bath back at the oasis, anyway. The pup walked up the dusty riverbed towards the low point where his father had brought forth the water. The wind shifted, carrying with it not just the scents of the hot desert air, but also the tantalizing, mingled aromas of wet earth and water, like the scents that came from a new well. There was another scent on the breeze, too, smoky and acrid. The pup knew that smell, if only vaguely. From time to time, the scent drifted in the air for a little while after father shaped the world.

Just as the pup reached the large puddle, a shadow stretched across it. He looked up and found his father standing atop the bank, holding Vakaal's pack. The older Urd'thin smirked down at him.

"Forget something?"

Vakaal held his arms out, and father tossed the pack down. The pup caught it, and slung it over his shoulders. "Sorry! I just wanted to see the new water you created."

"I didn't create it." Father picked his way down the bank.

"But you can, right?" Vakaal knelt down at the edge of the puddle. The water was brown, and muddy. "You can create things, right?"

"The water was already here, in the earth." Father had buckled straps around his chest. Curved knives hung from them, along with a few pouches, and a water bladder, nearly empty. He pulled the canteen free and walked up alongside his son. "All I did was coax it up."

"Because you changed things, right? To make it closer to the surface?"

Father chuckled to himself, his ears perked. "The Gods tell their stories through us. They've gifted us with the ability to change a few words of the tale here and there, that's all. Wouldn't be much of a story if all their people just died off because we couldn't find any water, now would it?"

The pup giggled and shook his head. He leaned forward onto his hands, sniffing at the water. "It's awful muddy, though."

"Watch." Father settled onto his knees alongside Vakaal. He held a hand out over the water. The water rippled as if buffeted by unseen winds. The surface of the water dimpled beneath his father's hand, and rings rolled across the surface. In their wake, the water changed, the silt settled, and the puddle grew clear. "There. Better?"

"You changed it!" The pup sniffed the water. It smelt clean and fresh now, with no hint of wet earth. He lapped at it. It tasted sweeter than it smelled, felt cool all down his parched throat. "It's so good now!"

"All I did was ask the mud to settle." Father smiled and patted Vakaal's back. "Don't drink too much at once, you'll make yourself sick."

Vakaal sat back up, nodding. He pulled his water skin from his pouch, and dunked it into the puddle to fill it. "Father..."

"Yes?" His father uncapped his own canteen, made from the well-worked bladder of some great beast, and plunged it into the puddle.

"We don't you just create water everywhere?" Vakaal tilted his head, one ear lifted and the other one splayed. "A whole lake of it, enough for everyone? And when it starts to go dry, you could just make more."

Father shook his head, air bubbles escaping from his canteen. "That's not how it works, Vakaal."

"But it could be." The pup licked his nose. "This water's better than the oasis water. And you could make more of it. And I could help, when I'm strong enough. And the others could help, and then it would never be too much for you. And we'd always have water. And we could shape all the old stones into a shelter no storm or beast could penetrate."

Father laughed, a happy, joyful bark. "If only it were that easy, right my love?"

Vakaal sat back onto his rump, folding his arms. He thumped his tail against the riverbed. "Why isn't it?"

"Because that is not the sort of lives we lead, Vakaal." Father lifted his canteen, squirted some water into his muzzle, and dunked it into the puddle again. "Shaping is our gift, it helps us survive our world. But the gods did not give us the gift so that we may cheat the difficulties of life. That is why it takes a toll upon us if we use our gifts too much. You see, Vakaal, life is-"

"A story told by the gods." Vakaal flattened back his ears, grimacing. Father always went back to the same lecturing well. "I know. But don't the gods want it to be a happy story?"

"And what is happiness, Vakaal?" Father tilted his head, his ears swiveled forward.

The pup sighed and leaned back onto his hands. "It's...when you're happy."

"Right, but how do you define that happiness?" A smile twitched at Father's muzzle.

Vakaal thumped his tail again. He nudged his heel against the mud around the puddle. "I dunno. It's...when you're not sad or scared."

"That's right!" Father patted Vakaal's head, smoothed down the fur on the back of his neck. "Without sorrow, we could not know joy. With fear, we could not measure courage. Without thirst, we would not understand the preciousness of water. If we just made water everywhere, whenever we wanted it, we would not appreciate the value of the oasis, or the rain. Do you understand?"

Vakaal scrunched his muzzle. He knew Father was very wise, but sometimes it took the pup longer to understand that wisdom than it seemed to take the rest of the tribe. "A little bit."

"Then that's a little bit more than you understood this morning, right?" Vakaal's father laughed and got to his feet. He capped his water skin and hooked it back to his belt, then held out his hand for Vakaal. "Ready to go home?"

The pup took his father's hand, and stood up. "Okay. I still think..." He stared at the lingering puddle, then trailed off. "Why do you shape the river? Doesn't that make water less valuable, if we get more of it?"

Father laughed as he led the way out of the riverbank. "There's always a fine line, Vakaal. The gods have given us everything we need to survive in this world. The same cannot be said for all the peoples who have ever lived. We should consider ourselves blessed to able to thrive where others have not."

"Like the humans?"

"Like the humans." Father snorted, and glanced away. Something cold flashed across his dark eyes, and he squeezed Vakaal's hand. The look was gone an instant, replaced by a smile. "Why, just look at the way they have to wrap themselves up just to brave the sun and the sand. It's as if they're not made to survive this world at all."

"But we are!" Vakaal shared his father's smile. Whatever that momentarily haunted look in Father's eyes was, he was glad it was gone, and eager to help keep it banished. "Right Father? Cause we're the Gods' story?"

Father's laughter returned, happy once more. "We're _all_the Gods' stories, my son." He started across the desert, heading for the distant oasis village. "The gods put trials and obstacles in front of each and every one of us, like in any good tale. It's our duty in life to help one another overcome those trials, to keep our tribe alive. The Gods gave us the gift to shape the world around us, but it is a gift meant to aide our lives, not to nullify its challenges. That's why our shaping has limits. If we did not have to earn the things we need in life, we would become complacent, we would..." He gestured to the great sweeping dunes. "Forgot how to survive. You know, Vakaal, it is said by the elders that others lived here before us. Do you know why they are gone?"

"Because their story ended?" Vakaal tilted his head.

Father glanced down at him, his dark eyes widened in surprise. "That is...correct, actually. But you see, the ones before us could also shape. They changed their world so much that they never wanted for anything. They became complacent, lazy, always re-shaping their lives to bring them their desires instead of working for their survival. Until the world crumbled under the weight of all the changes they had wrought, and they brought themselves to ruin. And do you know what happened then?"

Vakaal cast a glance back at the hollow rings of stone half-buried in the distance sand. "They died?"

"They died." Father nodded. "Because they had grown so accustomed to simply shaping the world around them to fit their needs, that when their world no longer responded to their touch, they did not know how else to live. They could not hunt, they could not build shelters, they could not find water when they traveled. All the things you've learned to do since you were a tiny pup they had grown to take for granted. They had forgotten how to survive, and thus, they could not."

"So...if you make too much water..." Vakaal flattened an ear back, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He squeezed his father's hand, and pressed against him.

"Which is why we don't." Father released Vakaal's hand to wrap his arm around his shoulders and hug him as they walked, instead. "What we can do, the way we can change the world, it is a gift from the Gods, Vakaal. But it is not a gift to be taken advantage of. They gave us these gifts so that we could survive what those before us did to the world. But we should never abuse these gifts." He turned his head down, and gave the pup a strange smile, patting his head. "Even for those precious few of us whose gifts are far greater than the rest. Do you understand?"

"I think so." Vakaal took a deep breath, then let it out slow. The knot in his belly eased. He leaned his head against his father, ever thankful for his wisdom. "Where'd you learn so much, anyway?"

"From my own parents, of course, and their elders. And the stories told as I grew. We pass our own stories on to our children, so that they may learn from them." Father hugged ruffled the fur between his ears. "Someday, you'll lead the tribe, and pass on your own life's story to your child. Or gods willing, children."

Vakaal giggled to himself, scrunching his muzzle. He barely had enough time to play as it was, let alone having to watch out for more pups of his own. He walked alongside his father as they traveled back to the village. In the far distance, a few more Urd'thin were returning home from different directions, each bearing the labors of their own day's work, dragging nets filled with birds or sleighs laden with scavenged materials.

Across the far horizon, dark clouds roiled. Boils of dark sand blossomed and grew against the sky. Flashes of light flickered within the clouds of dark red, gold and gray. A storm, at a distance further than he could measure, building and growing. In time, it would sweep this way, and bring destruction with it to those who were unprepared. He whined and pinned his ears back, then came to a stop, staring at the far storm clouds.

"What it is?" Father stopped next to him. Sudden concern weighed down his voice. "What do you see?"

"A storm." The pup curled his tail, kneading it in his hands. "A big one."

Father shielded his eyes with his hand, gazing into the distance. "When?"

The pup swallowed hard. He blinked a few times. The clouds were still there. He rubbed his eyes, blinked again, and the clouds were gone. The horizon was clear once more. The storm didn't exist. Not yet, anyway. But it would. "A week, maybe."

"Ah, that's not so bad." Father held out his hand again, smiling.

The pup grasped his father's hand, took comfort in his touch.

Father gently squeezed the pup's hand as he led him back to the village. "That's plenty of time to prepare the shelters. We'll get everyone ready long before the storm arrives, we'll be sheltered, and then I'll tell stories to pass the time until the winds ebb away again. Bet you'd like that, right?"

The pup nodded and leaned his head against his father. Father always knew how to make him feel better.