Sole Wolfess and Kid
© 2021 by M. Mitch Marmel and Walter Reimer

(The Sole Wolfess and Aedith ‘Sunny’ Winterbough are courtesy of E.O. Costello. Thanks!)
Thumbnail art by  tegerio, color by  marmelmm

Part Three.



As we slept, Arty sang.

And as he sang, we dreamed.

I really can’t tell you much about my dream. It consisted mostly of what appeared to be crude, almost childish, line drawings of scenes from my life that flickered past almost too quickly for me to see, but long enough for me to recognize each image. There were no people in them.

Not even me.

I awoke with a little start to see that the sun was rising and Aedith was cuddled up against me. Her tail and ears were twitching; dreaming, obviously, and I held her and stroked her ears until she settled down and slowly began to awaken. She blinked a few times and said around a big gaping yawn, “Good morning, Mommy.”

I gave her a smooch. “Good morning, my dear. Sleep well?”

“Sorta,” she said. “I . . . I had a dream.” She seemed a little distressed by it, with her tail slightly tucked and her ears laying back.

“Can you tell me what the dream was?” I asked.

Aedith opened her mouth, then closed it and looked up at me. “I . . . I can’t. Arty was in it, and he – he had me promise.”

My ears dipped. “Promise what?”

“He told me stuff, but he had me promise to keep them secret,” she replied, “because he said I’m not old enough to understand them yet.”

Now, that didn’t sound ominous at all.

We had a quick breakfast, and I went out to the pool, where Arty was dozing. “Artabanus?”

The fennec started, plunging his nose into the water. He reared back, coughing and sneezing until his sinuses were clear, and blinked up at me. “Good morning, young Missy! Sleep well?”

“I had dreams,” I said warily, “and so did Aedith.” My eyes narrowed as I crouched down to face him. “She said that whatever you told or showed her was a secret.”

“Hm? Oh, yes yes yes. Just a little advice, from an old Elf to such a wonderful youngster. She’s Talented, you know.”

“Yes, I know. What’s known as a Wild Priestess, because she’s had no training.”

He nodded. “As her mother, I respect your concern. But have no fear, Missy, I meant no ill intent.” There was a sloshing sound as he shifted position in the water. “It may be the last time I can offer advice.” He smiled. “Now, you two need to leave.”

“Yes. You said that the Gate will manifest at midday, up at the top of the valley.”

“You will have to judge your time and angle carefully.”

I stroked my chin with a paw and looked up the trail. “How will we know the proper time and angle?”

Arty chuckled and winked before saying:

“With one breath
With one flow
You will know
Synchronicity.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

“You’ll know,” Artabanus replied, and sank a little lower in the water.

My ears stood up as I saw that something had changed.

The fennec’s tail was missing.

“You’re dissolving,” I said. I made no attempt to keep the awe out of my voice.

“Yes, it’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” he asked. “Pity, in one way; I was very proud of my tail when I was a young Elf, so full of myself and prideful. I think that the Pantheon – or the Holy Skunk the Mephitists speak of – has finally decided that I’m ready for my Embrace.”

“You know of Fuma and the Lacktail?” I asked.

“When you wander about as much as I have,” he said, “and you will, you will see many strange things. Perhaps the Pantheon and the Holy Skunk are one and the same, or two separate entities.” He grinned up at me. “I hope to find out. Now, I expect that you and Aedith,” he said as my daughter came out of the hut, “have places to go, and Elves to see.”

“Then we’ll leave.” I straightened up, and Aedith unexpectedly knelt and hugged Arty, giving him a quick nuzzle that left him laughing and smiling as I took her by the paw and we started up the hill. I paused and looked back. “Fare well, Artabanus.”

The fennec waved. “Fair journey, Missy and Aedith.”

I set an easy pace uphill, with Aedith displaying a lot of her childish energy by darting ahead of me from time to time, looking at everything she could. Restored to her usual high spirits, her mood was infectious, and I found myself smiling fondly as we made our way to the top of the ridge.

We stopped and drank some water from the stream before sitting down to wait for the Gate to manifest itself, and while we waited I started puzzling over the riddle that Artabanus had given to me. With one breath / With one flow . . .

It was getting closer to midday, and I was starting to fidget a little. I didn’t want to miss the Gate, because of what might happen. We might be stuck here for a while, or another Gate might show up somewhere else.

“Mommy?”

I stirred out of my musings. “Yes, Aedith?”

My daughter pointed. “Look!”

The breeze had shifted, following the direction that the stream was flowing, and as I watched I saw a small dandelion seed, borne on the wind, drift over the stream – and disappear.

“That’s it!” I exclaimed, getting to my feet. “Come on.” Aedith reached for and took my paw as we waded into the stream to follow both its flow and the flow of the breeze.

The Master had written down the route for me, but it had gone awry and we now had no idea where this Gate would take us. Still, trust to the Lady, and we stepped through . . .

To find ourselves standing on a vast expanse of ice and snow, the sunlight glaring off it making us blink. It looked like late afternoon, and there was a range of mountains to the east. “Eala,” Aedith breathed, looking around her as her breath misted in the freezing air. I echoed the sentiment, because the scenery (now that I had the time to appreciate it) was spectacular. “Where are we, Mommy?”

“One step closer to our destination – I guess,” I replied, momentarily at a loss. As far as I could tell, we were in the far north of the Shining Land, the Wild Snows. There was no sign of Frostheim, though, or any other sign of habitation. I quickly checked the directions, thinking that I recognized one of the mountains from my first trip to Eastness.

Hmm. I doubted that the Master was playing fast and loose with the Lore of the Gates (your guide to all things that Elves know about the Gates, which admittedly isn’t very much), and I strongly suspected that someone or something (or Someone) was shortening our route for us. Very mysterious, but as that old fart Estvan Silverbrush used to say, what would the Shining Land be without some mystery?

A soft whimper alerted me to the fact that Aedith was starting to shiver. She’s used to the raw, wet winters in Elfhame, but here the air’s colder, a lot drier, and the wind was starting to make even me feel the cold eating into my skin. I crouched and swept my cloak out and around us both, then cast a cantrip to dry out our clothes and fur. Another brief spell ensured that we could huddle there and stay relatively warm until the next Gate opened.

A quick check showed that there was indeed a Gate a few yards away, getting ready to manifest, so we trudged across the glacier to wait for it.

Suddenly, Aedith sniffed. “What’s that?”

I sniffed, and had I been feline, my tailfur would have bottled out.

There is a creature native to the Wild Snows and other cold places, that lures its victims to it with the sweet and comforting smell of hot cocoa.

Somewhere, somewhere close, an ice-kraken was on the hunt.

I hugged Aedith to me. “Aedith,” I said carefully, “there’s a bad creature nearby. I want you to hang onto me.” She obeyed, and I checked on the Gate.

Yes, it was starting to appear, and I took off running toward it as the ice and snow under my feet started to shake.

As we went through I looked behind us, and the last thing I saw before entering the gate was a vast, tentacled bulk rearing up through the surface of the glacier.

Very fortunately, thank Fuma, that wasn’t the last thing either of us saw, because we apparently weren’t destined to be on the ice-kraken’s menu that night. As it was, I was running so fast that I almost came to a sudden stop against a tree.

[Note appended to manuscript: “Pity. You could have had some sense knocked into you.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]

As it was, I tried to stop, but my foot caught on a root and I started to fall. I twisted, taking the impact on my right hip and ending up flat on my back with Aedith on top of me.

Which cushioned her fall.

The pond we were falling into – well, the water cushioned my fall.

SPLOOSH!

The water was warm, which was a nice change from all the ice and snow we’d seen earlier. It was over waist-deep on me, so while we weren’t hurt from the fall, we both emerged spluttering and soaked straight through to our fur.

My daughter grinned up at me and said, “That was FUN! Do it again!”

I grinned back and exchanged nuzzles with her until we were both laughing as I carried her ashore and set her on her feet. I sat down and looked around.

The pond we’d landed in was bordered by carefully tended grass borders, with beds of flowers, bushes and several willow trees. There was a path paved with square stones running beside it, with another stone-flagged path directed away from it. A curious circular arch, apparently the Gate we’d just come through, framed the path leading away and there were some low, tile-roofed buildings a short distance away.

Any more detail would have to wait until daylight. From the look of the stars, it was sometime past midnight, and the only illumination were flickering torches planted at intervals along the paths.

Aedith suddenly laughed. “What?” I asked.

“You caught a fish!” she giggled, and I suddenly realized that my hood, flung back and sodden from the water, had something moving in it. Aedith laughed louder as I tried to reach the hood, which was behind me of course, dripping wet and had some squirming thing in it, and ending up turning around and around like I was chasing my tail.

I finally got a grip on the slippery thing and pulled it out of my hood. It was a fish, with a rather stout body and wearing a pattern that was mostly white with black and orange patches. “What are you?” I asked aloud as I studied it.

“It’s a fish, Mommy,” and I laughed as Aedith said the obvious.

“Yes, I can see that,” I said, “but what – ACK!” The fish had apparently taken offense, as it spat a stream of water into my face before wriggling free. It twisted in midair, slapped me twice across the muzzle with its tail, and landed in the water.

[Note appended to manuscript: “I would have paid to see that.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap, or you’ll find frogs in your bed. Again.”]

The sound of running feet and the sight of a few torches bobbing along the path caught my attention, and Aedith moved a half-step closer to me as a quartet composed equally of red pandas and felines dressed in nondescript brown robes trotted up. Two were holding the torches, while all four held staves in their paws. They all stopped several paces away from us, their staves at the ready, when I held my right paw up, palm out.

“Nǐ shì shuí, nǐ zài zuò shénme, qīnrù zhě?” one of the red pandas snapped.

I’d heard this language before, when visiting Kahanomoku. “Do any of you speak Standard?” I asked, remembering to speak clearly.

The four blinked, almost in unison, and one nudged another.

A four-way discussion broke out that lasted until three more red pandas showed up. Two wore swords and carried torches, while the third appeared older, about middle-aged, and dressed in robes of gold-embroidered red brocade. The quartet shut up and fell back to guard positions a few paces further back as the well-dressed wah strode forward.

“Nǐ shì shuí, fan quai?” he asked peevishly. He looked like he’d just been awakened from a sound sleep.

Now, that last little bit I did recall from all the weird goings-on in Kahanomoku. It meant ‘devil barbarian,’ which meant that Aedith and I were now in the far Southeast of the Shining Land. I repeated my question about anyone speaking Standard, and the leader looked surprised.

“You the Standard speak?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Where you come from?”

I pointed. “We have come through that Gate, from far away.”

While he pondered that statement, with one or two of his retainers glancing warily at the circular archway, an unusually tall and well-muscled otter wearing worn robes gathered at the waist with a rope belt came running up, took one look at me and Aedith, and started shouting angrily and waving his fists at us.

Ooo-er would have admired his looks, but any charms he might have had were thrown away on me.

The leader barked something at the otter, and a conversation ensued. The red panda finally said to me, “You fell in koi pond?”

He gestured at the seething otter. “This Reelma. He the koi looks after. You apologize for sleep disturbing.”

I nodded at the otter. “I apologize – “

The wah waved his paw. “Not him. To koi.”

Aedith and I looked at each other. I rolled my eyes, shrugged, and turned back to the pond.

There was a swirl seen in the torchlit water, and I crouched as the same fish that had been caught in my hood appeared. “Look,” I said, feeling somewhat embarrassed and silly, “I apologize – “

The fish spat a stream of water in my eyes and up my nose.

I spluttered, coughed, and sneezed while a few of the retainers laughed, and the leader said, “You come with now, and we talk.”

“Fine,” I coughed, and Aedith trotted along beside me as we left the Reelma kois.





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