Chapter 12: Hope
Cold had started to settle in through the forest, the once comfortable temperatures dipping low enough to cause them to shiver. The fire crackled weakly, wood being harder and harder for them to collect through their weakening condition. They had begun to cuddle together for warmth, a practice once reserved for close friends and mates having been skewed for survival.
Harrow dragged a few branches behind her, some being added to the fire and the remainder was laid to the side to ration, her fur matted and muddled with blood caused by scrapes and cuts she sustained during the efforts. She joined the cuddle pile next to the fire with the rest, flopping herself on top of it and causing Jax to grumble as he had more weight added to his legs.
“Hmrms phhn” Came the raspy, muffled voice as she spoke directly into Nalah’s breast. Sahari, sitting on the edge of the pile, pulled Harrow’s head from the pile, offering her a ration of water. Harrow allowed the liquid to lightly coat her tongue, the cold life sustaining liquid trickling down her throat. Just as the hoarseness of her throat began to quench, it stopped, leaving behind the memory. She swallowed, hopefully tricking herself into thinking there had been more, only to be reminded how dehydrated she was.
She missed writing reports, spending her hours poring over documents and drawing correlations between obscure data sets when she wasn’t simply verifying the validity of them. She had just learned how to operate the Star-Skip Scanner, weeks of intrigue and excitement washed away by command pulling last resort protocols and abandoning those ‘not fit for duty’. They flavoured it by saying it was an expedition mission, a chance to create and open a Forward Operating Base for the whole crew to use in their attempt to colonize. No one was surprised when all the ‘randomly selected’ operators were all first-year recruits, nor when they weren't issued any gear and only given a paltry few rations of the worst calibre. The ship was dead in the water, so to speak, and the fat had to be trimmed.
She should have been shocked, mortified even, when a mechanic rigged the reactors to blow without tripping any alarms. She couldn’t bring herself to care. She had been abandoned before, her den-father leaving the home without income as her sisters and her starved. Her den-mothers did everything they could to provide, coming home each night slightly more broken than when they left, meals in hand.
She remembers how ‘forgetful’ they became as time went on, often leaving food out for the young unattended. How often they had ‘already ate’ as their ribs began to show through their fur and their eyes seemed to sink into themselves. Her sisters were too young to understand. Too young to do anything but cry as a den-mother had brought back a small feast for them, claiming that another mother had left to find a better job and would send money back for them. Too small to hear the quiet crying behind the mothers’ door. Small prayers for their kin.
Harrow focused her tired eyes on Sahari. The Huntress had become ‘forgetful’. Had ‘already eaten’ several times already. She could see the chapped tongue, dry and cracked. See the same sullen eyes forming, fearful and uncertain. That same determination, the drive behind those actions. The drive to see her pack thrive. Harrow forced her thoughts down, willing her mouth to move. “Where’s Pan?”
Those eyes lightened slightly, a small spark of hope warring against the futility of their situation. When Nalah had attempted to enter the building, only to be scared off by the biped, that hope remained. The loss of their haven should have crumbled it, yet it burned as bright as the day she returned from the first observation. When the pack had left, Harrow felt the same hope, only to be crushed as they couldn’t open those doors. Only to be broken further when the pack returned, large cargo in tow, to move into the building. When Harrow was ready to submit, Sahari stood proud, her ribs beginning to show through her fur, her steps slow yet still powerful. She held hope towards the biped, though Harrow couldn’t guess why.
Sahari laid down the water, only a quarter of a leaf out of what they brought with them remained. “Pan should be back soon; she’s watching the pack.”
Harrow nodded, understanding the answer, but not the reason. Pan had volunteered to keep watch over them; to see how they thrived on this barren wasteland somehow still teeming with life. The observations started out short. Simple several-hour excursions as she would hide away and simply monitor them. As the sun passed the sky several times over, Harrow noticed what she had been doing.
Pan knew herself small. Weak and too timid to speak usually. She knew she was a drain on resources they already had few of. Pan hid it well, her naturally thicker and fuller coat hiding the symptoms of starvation, her quiet demeanour covering her near lack of ability to speak as dehydration all but fused her tongue to her mouth. She would leave early in the morning, only returning after scheduled rations were handed out. The others protested, Sahari most of all, but Jax was struggling to hunt anything, and they were too worn to go find water. No one could say anything at the selfless offering, same as her sisters, just for different reasons.
Harrow eyed Tel, the bouncy recon scout having grown quiet. “Have we found anything?”
Tel slowly shook her head, avoiding the muscle cramps that would follow if she were to put any more energy into it. Small shivers traced her body, her position lay near the end of their body warmth, her figure far too lean to support it. Harrow reached out, sore and aching muscles crying their protests as she pulled Tel closer into the pile. She slowly stroked Tel’s head, pulling her into her bosom. Harrow closed her tired eyes to nap for a while, it would be time for the last of their meat to be distributed soon, and Pan would join them.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
The farm was a bit of a wash. It was simply too cold for most of these to grow, and those that would, were poison. Joseph sighed, tossing the hoe back into the storage and brushing the dirt off his pants. He glanced over to the bushes, purposely placed there by the previous staff as a natural wall and decoration. Inside it lay a single yellow eye, slivers of white fur contrasting against the red hue of the leaves in which it peeked. It was watching him again.
Initially, he had been wary of it, the eye following him as he worked, only noticeable due to the lack of the familiar colour around it. He had attempted to scare it off, yelling and approaching it. It didn’t move, staring at him the whole time with a steady gaze. Having gotten used to seeing it, he chose to ignore it, simply tilling the soil and adding shaved flakes from the rock-worms as nutrient for his future plants. After a few days, he started talking. At first, to himself, repeating stories that Mama and Violet had already heard. Abridged versions of movies he remembered, books he left half finished. Eventually he began to ask it questions. It never answered, but that was fine, he would answer for it.
He didn’t know much about the creature, but it wasn’t hostile towards them. Neither Violet not Mama knew what it was, both respecting its space and observing from the same distance he was. They decided it was nothing to fear, merely some company when he was working in the cold that the two Atmo disliked. He sat down, far enough away that he hoped it would be comfortable with his presence. The yellow eye remained focused on his, though it had seemed duller than at first, its tracking of him delayed. They sat in silence for a while, simply looking at each other, the mild wind stilling.
His stomach rumbled, demanding its allotment of sustenance. He rose to his feet, quietly turning to go back inside for something to eat. A small gurgling sound came from the bushes, from the creature. He raised an eyebrow, turning again to approach it. He crouched rather close to it this time, its eye taking far too long to look at him. “Are you hurt?”
The question lingered in the air for a while, silence being the only answer. He breathed a sigh, thinking on what he should do. Finding himself at a loss, he asked the next obvious question he could think of. “Are you hungry?”
The eye stared at him. He stared back. The eye looked down, staring a hole into the ground between them. “Would you like me to bring out something to eat?”
It looked back at him, slowly shifting up. A pregnant pause was broken as the eye slowly blinked, holding its eye closed for a moment before opening it again, staring back at the ground. He smiled, nodding his head as he bounced himself to his feet before entering the building.
Joseph entered the facilities wing, waving at Violet as she practised her shadow boxing, her footwork having been modified from her usual tripod gait to pairing up the limbs, using four at a time to move and the last set as an anchor to shift directions quickly. The Atmo waved back, her sheath covering her blade, before returning to drilling the latest set of movements they had gone over together. Mama was likely sculpting out more beds for them from logs, Joseph had recently shown her how to make a dovetail joint and she had used the knowledge to start on their quality-of-life improvements, joining several sections side-by-side to make a wider platform.
He entered the kitchen, grabbing a rock-worm and a mix of meat that had collected from the wolves and the snares. He cooked the meats by type in pans, setting the rock-worm in the oven, packaging each in a leaf so as they don’t mix. It wouldn’t be good if his new idea sounding board got sick from eating something it shouldn’t. This way, the creature could sniff and sample each before deciding what it wanted to be fed. It kept him company, it felt right to repay it. He made sure each bundle held a fair bit of the treats, only eating a portion of the larger rock-worm he had chosen to tie himself over until the family gathered for supper.
Happy with his presents, he scooped them up and brought them out to the farm, finding the creature had not moved in the time he was gone. A smile grew on his face again, he was excited to see which it would choose. He approached the eye and sat down in front of it, close enough that it could smell the meats and choose its favourite. One at a time, he laid the bundles down, opening them to display them.
He pointed to the leftmost package and worked his way to the rightmost. “This one is moss-wolf. Mean fuckers. Pretty tasty, but honestly, I'd like some salt and pepper for it. It’s pretty good all around. This one is leaf-squirrel. A little gamey for my tastes, but if you broil it with some onions and maybe potato, I think it would be a pretty good meal. This is from a sparrow-looking bird. I don’t have much but the others would rather the rest. I’d like to see it deep fried or over a charcoal barbecue.”
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The eye widened more and more with each unveiling and explanation, tracking his hand then flicking to the meat as he described them. He pointed to the last pile, the largest of the bunch. “And this geological abomination is something I call a rock-worm. First day here I tripped over one of the bastards and fell into a river, almost drowned too. Mama fished me out of the water and I brought her and her daughter here to hopefully pay them back. As a result, I eat these things as much as I'm able as a sort of revenge.” He laughed at the end of his statement, breaking any attempt at sounding serious. “Nah, it’s a weird animal that evolved to look like a rock. Personally, I highly recommend this one, reminds me of family dinners during Christmas.”
The eye darted between each item, the lustre returning to it with each pass. It paused to look up at him, retaining a steady focus. “Go ahead, pick whichever smells good. They’re cooked now, not like they’re going to eat themselves.”
It maintained its gaze, slightly wetter than before. Joseph frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Are these no good? I’d take time to thaw the meats if you wanted them raw. I don’t have any vegetables yet either; you’ve seen how that’s been going.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the farm, the plot devoid of produce.
The eye crackled, a breathy huff expanded from the bush. His eyes widened as the creature started coughing, the shelter it had taken shaking. The eye closed, rocking back and forth in time with the rasping barks. “Are you okay!? Does it hurt!? Fuck! Shit! Uhhh.” Joseph panicked, reaching into the bush. The creature struggled for only a moment, too weak to fight him off. He pulled back on it, almost forgetting to avoid the food laid out in front of it. With one large tug, he fell backwards, landing heavily onto his back. He felt a light pressure spread out over most of him, the creature having been successfully removed from its hiding spot. He looked down to see a sea of dirty white fur, much larger than he initially expected. Carefully, he rolled it off of him onto the ground as he propped himself on his arm to see what he had gotten himself into.
His eyes widened for a moment; a flash of recognition quickly replaced by one of deep concern. The creature was nearly dead from starvation, flesh pinned to legs and arms and any natural shine on its exposed skin was replaced with a dull, sickly complexion.
It was humanoid. Two legs longer than he would expect on one of his own, but the thigh leading to a backwards knee made the whole thing seem balanced. He forgot the name for it, but remembered that the backwards knee was closer to his ankle than an actual second knee. It was about five feet tall at full stretch, the dainty frame seeming plumper by the density of its fur. It had a mix between a cat head and a sabre-tooth tiger, feline features rounded out by smooth angles and a slightly canine muzzle. Its eyes looked at him, an expression of acceptance could be felt as it shifted to look at the sky, slowly closing its eyelids. Its mouth opened slightly, a lightly barbed tongue moving as it spoke a wordless language, rasps of air substituting any voice. Its mouth was cracked, tongue bleeding by the dehydrated motions.
He didn’t think, there wasn’t time. He grabbed the creature behind its neck and legs, scooping it up to his chest. It was cold, far too cold. He ran to the building, slamming into the door and turning heel towards Mama’s bedroom. He kicked in the door that had been left ajar, Mama bolted upright from her sitting position, having been carving some art into her recently completed bed frame. Her body language shifted from fear to confusion as she registered what he held.
“No time.” He barked as he laid the creature on the bed, it was a hard surface without any cushions, but it was at least temperature regulated. “Get Violet, tell her to get me some water while you go to the farm and grab the meat I left out there. This thing is cold, starving, and dying of dehydration. I think its sapient, tried to say something when it thought I was going to kill it, too dried out to make any noises.”
Mama bolted out of the room without hesitating. She may have been confused, but she could tell when something was an emergency. He heard frantic clicking and two sets of clacks until the farm door banged open as Mama presumably burst through the push bars. The creature stared at him, eyes searching for answers. He rested his hand on its head, stroking its fur. “You’re okay, we’re gonna’ get you some food and water while you warm up here. I need you to keep your eyes open, okay? No sleeping yet.” He moved to hold its hand, three fingers and a thumb with soft, black, padded flesh underneath. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “Violet will be back with some water so we’ll start with that, okay? She might look scary, but she’s as adorable as they come.”
The creature allowed a slow blink, opening its eyes again after a moment, struggling to focus on him. Violet flew into the room with a wide metal bowl she must have got from the kitchen, some water spilled as she tried not to fall sideways at the sudden turn in direction. Joseph released the creature's hand, grabbing the bowl with one hand and placing the other behind its head, tilting it upwards. “I’m going to help you drink a bit okay, it’ll be slow. Blink when you want me to stop.”
It blinked again, looking at the water. He raised the bowl to its lips, tilting the bowl to allow a small flow of water into its mouth. Its eyes turned to him as it slowly filled its mouth and swallowed. “That’s it. Good job. Nice and slow.”
The creature gulped deeply, swallowing the water and allowing more in. After several long drinks, it blinked at him. He lowered the bowl to the floor as Mama hurried back in, several bundles of meat held against her chest with her blades. He tapped the floor next to him, directing her on where to lay them. Once set down, he sifted through them and grabbed a chunk of leaf-squirrel, holding it up for the creature to see. “This is the squirrel thing I showed you earlier, you seemed to look at this one longer, I'll assume it’s something you’ve eaten before. Do you think you can eat? Not much, it might make you sicker, but some?”
It blinked again, swallowing heavily. He held the meat to its mouth, letting it take it when it was ready. It slowly took it from him, biting down on the meat and seeming to savour it for a moment, tears forming in its eyes. It swallowed after a few seconds, glancing at the water. “More water? Here you go, take it easy. Here you go.” He cooed softly as the creature took another mouthful, blinking for him to stop after the one. “Hard to swallow? I didn’t cook it *that* dry.” He forced a weak laugh.
It relaxed, air forced out of its mouth, weak and quiet. It narrowed its eyes slightly and tried again, this time eliciting a small voice crack. Joseph returned to stroking its head, speaking softly. “Take your time, I’m in no rush.”
A third attempt was made. “...nh.” It managed, forcing its eyes closed.
“That’s okay, try again. Whenever you’re ready.” He offered encouragingly.
“...nh. Pa...nh.” It tried a few more times until the hoarseness returned. Another drink of water was offered and accepted. “Pa..nh”
He watched it slowly, listening very closely. “Pan? Is that your name?” The creature looked at him, a fresh tear fell as it blinked slowly.
He gave his warmest smile, whispering to the creature he held in his hands. “Nice to meet you, Pan. My name is Joseph.”
------------------------------
Joseph closed his door behind him. He had asked Mama to watch over it for the second half of the night, him staying until she was able to switch with him. She nodded and got Violet to refill the water. It had fallen asleep shortly after eating another piece of meat, the poor thing must have gone a long time without anything. He spent a few hours just talking to himself, hoping his voice would comfort it until Mama came to let him rest. It had taken him a while to actually fall asleep. He was restless, worried that it would pass away before it had the chance to recover. When he woke up, he wanted the first thing he did to be to grab some warm water and a towel. There was a lot of dirt matted into its fur and that was not doing it any favours in keeping heat.
He entered Mama’s room, the Atmo was resting next to the bed, offering Pan some water as it sat upright, using its arms to keep itself steady. He smiled, the life had returned to its eyes, the cracking of its lips had reduced some. “Good morning, Pan. You look like you’re doing better. Sorry we couldn’t get you somewhere proper setup to sleep, we weren't ready for guests.”
Pan stopped drinking to look at him, shifting forward to get off the bed. He laid the warm water and towel down to place his hands on its shoulders to stop them. “Woah, woah there. You can barely stand right now, we can try again later, okay?”
Pan glanced at the ground before looking at him again and blinking, settling its weight on the bed. He chuckled as he bent down to grab the water and towel. “I’m gonna’ help you clean off, should help you retain your body heat, okay?”
It fidgeted weakly for a moment, eyes wandering between its legs and the water. After some consideration, it blinked in acceptance. “Good, I made sure the water was only a little bit warmer than it is in here because I don’t know what you’d find comfortable. Stop me if it’s unpleasant, okay?” Another blink.
He wet the towel, wringing it out until it wasn’t dripping anymore. Starting with its back, he wiped off the dirt and debris of the forest, scrubbing any spots that needed it. He moved from back to arms, arms to legs. He was careful to scrub around the head and face so as not to irritate any of the more sensitive skin around their ears or eyes. “Okay, next up is chest and abdomen. I’ll get your arm pits too.”
Pan’s cheeks shifted to a very pale pink as he finished scrubbing their face, the colour barely different than the usual white. They had been covered in grime before, so this change in colour was nice. It looked healthy. He dunked the towel, drawing the liquid out of it before lifting their arms, getting the shorter fur there first. He finished one then the other, asking Mama to grab a dry towel to help take care of any dampness the fur retained. She left the room chittering to herself, leaving the door ajar as she went. He started at where their clavicle would be, briefly doing up around their neck. The pink intensified as he worked his way down their chest, stopping when he felt a familiar squishing sensation under the towel.
He quickly finished doing down to her stomach, leaving the damp towel and water as he excused himself from the room with an instruction to do the rest herself while he got them something to eat. He seen Mama as he closed the door, nearly bent over in hysterics, her daughter had long since lost the ability to use her legs as she lay on the ground out of breath. He pointed at the two of them. “You knew. Traitors.” He marched to the kitchen, feeling the burning heat on his cheeks.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
They had mourned. Pan had not come back in two suns. Harrow didn’t need to guess what had happened; she knew where her condition was headed. Sahari was the only one who didn’t cry, completely unable to spare even a drop of liquid that was barely keeping her organs functional, but the hope in her eyes had finally died. She was as lifeless as the rest of them, their water reserves were depleted, their food gone. They only had a few sticks of wood left to keep the cold away, and even that was a losing battle.
Tel had gone silent, Nalah laid holding Sahari, and Jax had separated from the pile, being the only one to have enough energy to stoke the fire. No one had spoken since last moon, all quietly fighting to hold on, just a little bit longer. Harrow forced herself to sit up, pushing Tel closer to the fire to combat the cold. She couldn’t save anyone, but she could make sure they die as comfortable as possible, just like her den-mothers.
She remembered how the rest all ‘found more work away from home’ until only one den-mother remained, holding her and her sisters close as she wept, promising that money would arrive after she left and that they should use it to move out of the slums. She remembered not seeing any money after, just scary men shouting threats to a den-father who had left years ago. She remembered the fire, then waking up in a military field hospital. She remembered the training, the studying. She remembered the looks on the recruits faces as their people left them to die on a planet that they had no reason to believe they could survive on.
Harrow curled into herself; knees placed to her chest as she sobbed quietly. She had no den-father. No den-mother. No sisters. No future. No hope. She gazed at the fire, the orange hue basking her fur a more violent shade as it flickered. Pan had sacrificed herself so that they may live even a few more suns. That small and quiet female. She had put others before herself, braving forward to the Great Hunt with little more than harsh words to her name. Pan had been strong in her own way. She had a terrifyingly sharp mind. She had compassion, she had empathy, she had just handed Harrow a small bowl filled with water and an assortment of meat. She had...
Harrow’s eyes stared at the meal in front of her, a feast far beyond what they had eaten since they landed. She rose her eyes, creeping as if the Hunt Mother herself had come to claim her. Her eyes rested on a near-perfectly white coat of fur, devoid of dirt and loosely groomed. Sharp yellow eyes gazing down at her, strong and soft pads holding a wooden tray out to her, filled with food and water. It took a moment to register, Harrow looked around to see everyone with their own tray and identical stupefied look.
Pan left the tray on Harrow’s lap, turning to retrieve some logs from a strange woven backpack, before adding them to the fire and sitting down with her own, though less luxurious, meal. Pan spoke quietly, addressing the group. “Slowly, I'm told you’ll get sick if you rush after starving.”
Harrow looked at Sahari.
The flame of hope burned like plasma.