Meric made his way outside the ring of tents that made up the troope campsite. Like most Melasuran troopes Master Ghun’s troope specialized in plays, music, acrobatics, and feats of skill and dexterity. But, unlike other troopes, Master Ghun’s troope also used animals to entertain the towns. So, when Meric was depressed or wished that he had someplace else to go, he would go to the pens and spend time with the animals. Most of the animals were not exotic, but they were well trained. Niksjys, buodegs, and pejks made up the majority of the animal train. The buodegs and pejks pulled the troope’s wagons and also performed tricks for the troope’s audience. The only exotic animal was a single huelen that was captured as a cub, but was now old. Meric stayed clear of the huelen. Even in old age it was dangerous and could strike quickly with its claws.
As he walked by the cage that held the old huelen, he turned his head and even though he didn’t like to be near it, he could appreciate the sleek gray coat and muscular curves that rippled as the huelen paced back and forth in the cage. It’s long snout sniffed the air. Meric knew that a huelen had an uncanny sense of smell and could probably still smell the sprinkles of cinnamon that fell on his clothes as he ate one of Yertin’s pastries. But then, the yuelen yawned and Meric could see the curved teeth of the huelen. Being so close to something that would be more than willing to kill him if it had the chance made him shiver. He quickly looked away and tried to quicken his pace toward the corral where the buodegs and pejks were held.
Meric also stayed mostly clear of the niksjys. Meric liked to watch the niksjys, but from afar. They were majestic and spirited and fast. When they ran in an open field their long hair would sweep behind them, and make them look like streaks of color against the landscape. Meric had one time watched a niksjy with a white coat at full gallop running in an open field. The niksjy looked like a cloud skimming across the ground. But, that speed also kept Meric from getting to close. If a niksjy decided to trample him, as they were known to do, Meric would have not a chance to get out of its way. The buodegs and pjeks were slower and gentler and Meric felt safe around the large animals.
“Be careful, Meric. The buodegs seem a little nervous about something. Don’t get too near them,” Meric heard as he walked by the tent of Master Weisod, who was the animal trainer for the troope.
“Yes. Master Weisod.” Meric continued toward the pjek and buodeg pens built hastily from trees near the troope’s camp. Meric had no intention of listening to Master Weisod. As he reached the corral, he crawled under the temporary fencing, and stood up among the great beasts.
He felt the trunk of one the pjeks begin to search his clothes for a morsel of food. The trunks were flexible and were used by the pjeks to grasp objects. The pjeks were tall with long, lanky legs that made them look fragile, and their trunks were long as well and reached almost to the ground. The trunks were very strong, but a single pjek struggled to pick up heavy loads because their bodies were not designed to carry heavy loads. But, a group of well-trained pjeks could work together to carry very heavy objects with their trunks. In fact, one of the tricks Master Weisod often had his pjeks perform was carrying a large tree across the arena.
“I’m sorry Tiron. I don’t have any today.” The trunk continued to search as another trunk joined in the hunt for food in his clothes. The pjeks weren’t hungry. Meric knew that Master Weisod would go without food for himself before he allowed his animals to go without food. But, Meric liked the feel of the pjeks’ long trunks. He always tried to hide the morsels of food in unusual places, but the pjeks would always find them. But now, he grasped the drab brown trunks with his hands and pushed them away.
Meric turned his body and looked through the trunks and bodies of the pjeks crowding around him and saw that the four buodegs were huddled in the center of the pen. He began to walk slowly toward them.
“It’s okay Reil. It’s okay Eilin. It’s okay Gral. It’s okay Blyn.”
Like the pjeks, the buodegs were mostly different shades of brown. The way Meric could tell the individual pjeks and buodegs apart was the pattern of stripes and spots that was different for each pjek and buodeg. The pjeks had fewer stripes and those stripes were light in color, while the buodegs had many more stripes that were always a much darker brown, sometimes almost black. Both the pjeks and buodegs were similar in height, but a buodeg was much wider.
Meric was always surprised by the timidity of the large buodegs. Without trying one of the buodegs could easily push down the fences that held them in the pen, and very few animals could take on an angry buodeg. And yet, the buodegs preferred the safety of the pen. Also, a buodeg would often refuse to pull a wagon unless they were hitched behind a pjek. So, most often a wagon train would have two pjeks and a single buodeg pull a wagon. The buodegs liked the safety of a herd and they saw the pjeks as a part of their herd.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
The largest of the buodegs with his head lowered took a tentative step toward Meric, looking at him with his large eyes that Meric knew couldn’t see him from this distance. The buodegs were almost blind, but had an amazing sense of smell, perhaps even better than the huelen. Wagon train drivers told stories of buodegs that could smell water a day’s travel away. One driver who lost his wagon to a sinkhole in the Cano Desert told of how his buodeg traveled all day and through the night with him on his back. In the morning, when the driver woke the buodeg and the pjeks that were with him were standing around a well at the edge of a small village.
Meric shuffled through the pjeks surrounding him, pushing against the pjek bodies in his way, and pulling off the trunks that gently encircled his arms trying to hold him. Pjeks somehow could always sense the nervousness of buodegs and that was why the two groups of animals were penned together. Often the pjeks would stay with him as he approached the buodegs. This time, however, the pjeks did not follow him. Rather, they went back to the water troughs and feed bins that they were gathered around before Meric crawled into the corral.
“Hello Gral. What’s wrong?” With these words the buodeg lifted his head and snorted and then shook his head back and forth. As he did so, his long hears flapped against the side of his head creating a sound like the crack of a whip.
Meric turned his head to the left and then turned his body around slowly trying to see what could be causing the buodeg to be so nervous, but he could see nothing.
“It’s okay, Gral. You’re safe here.” The buodeg snorted again, but then he lowered his head and allowed Meric to rub his ears. Meric ran his hand down one of the buodeg’s long ears feeling the downy felt that covered the ears. The buodeg’s head was as large as Meric’s whole body and Meric could feel the strength of the animal as he held still for Meric. He shuffled to the side of Gral and continued to run his hand along Gral’s side. Unlike his ears, Gral’s skin was very rough. A layer of small prickly hair covered those areas of the skin that were not striped. The dark brown stripes had no hair and were dry and scaly. It created an odd sensation as Meric moved his hand down the buodeg’s side.
Meric heard the crack of a whip and several shouts from behind the buodegs, Meric could feel the muscles in Gral’s body tense as Gral jerked his head up. Gral lifted his head high and then trumpeted a challenge and a warning. The sound reverberated around the corral and Meric was certain that the buodeg could be heard all the way into town. The other three buodegs lifted their heads and joined in with Gral as they too trumpeted a warning. Then, together they began to run toward the pjeks and away from the shouts and whip.
Meric knew that he was about to be trampled, by the buodegs and did his best to throw himself away from their path. He did little more than fall to the side and he could feel the buodegs’ feet as they pounded over top of him. Somehow, none of the massive feet stepped on Meric. Meric pushed himself up and looked in the direction of where the shouts and whip had come and saw standing on the corral fence Gart and the boys who had beaten him earlier and taken Master Ghun’s pastries. They were laughing and clapping each other on the back. One of the boys pointed in Meric’s direction and the boys started laughing even harder.
Meric turned his head back toward the buodegs and he watched as the pjeks turned and began to run with the stampeding buodegs. As one, the pjeks and buodegs crashed through the fencing and ran toward the troope’s camp. As they neared Master Weisod’s tent, one of the buodegs stumbled. Trying to regain its balance it crashed through Master Weisod’s tent, tearing the tent pegs up from the ground and carrying the tent along with it for a short distance before the tent tore, allowing the buodeg to continue unhindered. As the tent came to a rest, Meric could see Master Weisod’s leg and arm sticking from under the tent. Tears of anger welled up in Meric’s eyes and he pushed himself up, struggling to stand. He began to run toward the boys standing on the fence, but again his legs failed him and he fell headlong into the mud churned up by the feet of the buodegs. He could hear the boys laugh again, even above the sound of the buodegs and pjeks and the shouts of confusion and anger that were coming from the troope’s camp as the rest of the troope realized what was happening.
Meric strained to pull himself out of the mud into a sitting position. He looked toward the fence where the boys were standing, but they were no longer there. He could see them running into a stand of trees nearby.
“You are going to regret this when Master Ghun hears what you did!” Meric screamed after the boys as he balled his hands into fists and punched the mud. The mud splattered with the force of his fists and a piece of mud flew into his mouth. Meric sputtered and spit as he tasted the bitter taste of manure ground into dirt. After getting the mud out of his mouth, he stood and began to make his way slowly to Master Weisod, hoping that the animal trainer wasn’t dead.