Memory transcription subject: Alvi, Pup Struck

Date [standardized human time]: Sept 16th, 2136. Middle of 4th Claw.

Our buggy struggled through the headwind as we made toward the Grove, its complaining whine quieting only when we entered the village proper and were sheltered somewhat from the slowly building gale. Valek left his driver’s seat and helped me off of the rear bench with a gentle paw while Maeve rejoined us from her usual hang, and we all wound through the riverstone streets to the commons.

Valek strode beside me with Maeve behind us, and in my wide field of view I found my eyes constantly rediscovering his. Every line of his frame, every lock of his wool in sharp relief as my heart hammered in my throat and I struggled to ask him -- anything! How he felt, what he thought, what he’s doing, what he sees; anything to hear his voice in my ears and have his focused attention! I wrested control of my faculties, took a breath and tried to make a sound, but the excited chattering of the village litter on approach stole our attention.

The rowdy herd had nearly stampeded over us as they ran screaming, bolting, and climbing all about the commons; Valek’s tail kinked with mischief as he joined the diminutive herd of happily squealing pups! My heart swelled and my skin sparked seeing him play with them, and I felt the burning warmth of a shining Day under my wool. I waved my ears forward and back, trying to cool them with the frigid air of oncoming Night; Maeve was a bubbling mess of giggles beside me, which I hoped were from Valek’s antics and not my - I was sure - vibrant bloom. The off-white stucco of the village glowed with the diffused light of a fiery sky, glaringly bright against the steadily darkening forest behind it, while the village grown-ups were hard at work slipping temporary boards into permanent racks against glass windows in preparation of Galetime.

Valek was gaining on Vaibek as they rounded the far side of the fountain at speed. Not to be outdone, the boy dropped his head and leveled out his tail behind him as a counter balance, then summoned a burst of speed before Valek could pass him on his right side. He looked over his shoulder, gleefully laughing as he taunted, “Ain’t as fast as you used to be, old buck!”

Vaibek shot past us, making to lap the slower runners as he continued around the fountain. Valek slowed to a stop in front of us as he finished his own lap, his heavy breathing catching in my throat when he called back, “A scarce two harvests away from home, and already outpaced by a pup!”

Maeve and I laughed with him as the rest of the litter caught up to us; Mulva, the little shivi flower, looked about ready to collapse over her wobbling knees even as her little tail was still flicking in excitement. Without a thought, I knelt to scoop her up, hugged her tight, then twirled wildly with her tail tucked around my waist. Her little claws dug deep into the wool on my chest and she nuzzled her head down into my neck as she squealed in delight! After spinning two times, then three, and another for good measure, I had to stop to catch my breath, all but carried off by the joyful whistling and giggling brays of the little girl. The other children clambered around me, tugging at my wool and tail, begging to be picked up and spun, too. I lashed my tail, pulling the pup behind me to and fro as I laughed gleefully along with the litter, then spun again, causing the smaller one at my hip to be pulled along, joining Mulva’s sparkling laughter along with my own!

I dizzily halted my playing, but lost my footing on the riverstone street, along with my balance as I felt myself begin to fall, before landing against something soft and solid. The mass of grey wool was twice my size as they turned a baleful eye on me and I backed away, breaking up my bubbling laughter with frantic apologies.

“Alright everyone, let’s get out from underfoot!” Maeve called over the commotion of whistles and bleats, “What did we miss while we were gone? Everyone stay out of trouble?”

High cheers and flailing tails sung out around me as Maeve led the herd to the fountain, taking her usual seat on the ledge; Valek was beaming as I passed him before he fell in beside me. “Having a little fun there, Stormcloud?”

I lashed my tail against his back before it returned to a contented sway behind me, “Can you blame me? Just look at them, sweetest little lotenks you’d ever see!” I whistled with glee as Mulva and I headbutted each other playfully, before I set her down and she joined the herd that now sat around the fountain.

“Not as sweet as you.”

His whispered voice in my ear set my snout ablaze, and I nearly smacked my ears against his cheek as I tried to cool them.

---

Memory transcription subject: Maeve, Pup Wrangler

Date [standardized human time]: Sept 16th, 2136. Middle of 4th Claw.

Well isn’t that lovely?

My smile was beaming under my veil, and it was a struggle to keep my voice level as I watched Alvi and Valek try to hide their blushing behind the flock of children that I led away from construction work. The whole village was lit in a castoff light, deep blue from the cloud cover that sped overhead while the wind howled through the winding streets. Above the rooftops of the village I could see the forest canopy, beating and whirling in the winds that skipped over the woods that surrounded the Grove.

Thicimek was the first to offer some juicy gossip, running ahead of me and bouncing up and off the lip of the fountain, “Dauln got caught in a greeol tree when the gales started! Chief Cyja had to ask Carvit for his picker-lift.”

My memory flashed to getting stuck in the cedar tree behind our house, and I giggled to myself as I imagined a venlil bleating down from the top branches. Though it seemed I set a poor example, as titters and jeers bubbled up from the herd, making a grey-wooled boy pull his ears down in front of his eyes. I waited for quiet before addressing him in my kinder voice, “That was very dangerous Dauln, and I hope you learned to be more careful in the future; but I’m very glad to see you’re ok, and that you can be here with us. Valek talked to me about Galetime; do the winds really get that dangerous here?”

“Mama says they’ll lift you right off the grass!” Little Mulva cried from right in front of me.

“My da’ says if I don’t stay inside, the Gales’ll blow me all the way to Nightside and I’ll get eaten,” cried another with wool like a swirled latte.

Oof, they don’t mess around. Seems a little exaggerated but that’s typical of ‘be good or else’ stories from back home; best not question the parents. Hell, maybe they could get sucked up into the wind, you don’t know; you’ve never seen a storm on an alien planet!

“Well I’ll be sure to stay inside then; wouldn’t want the storm to make my burka a parachute!” I said, billowing my white cloak for emphasis and making the herd squeal with delight, “What do you do when you’re all stuck inside? Not driving your parents crazy, surely.” I cast my eye around at the busy venlil about the square, pleased that more than a few tails agreed; even if their owners still avoided looking at me.

The commons became a dissonant chorus of voices as they called out games, movies, and shows they all enjoyed while stuck inside, but there was one child whose ears stayed down, tail curling around them protectively; they kept a close eye on me and I guessed we hadn’t met, judging by their trepidation.

I looked off to the side, trying hard to show I wasn’t looking at them, “Why, hello, little one! I don’t believe we’ve met, are you new to the Grove?”

Even despite my averted sight, I could see them shrink and curl tighter in my periphery; Ilnek looked behind from his usual seat in front, signing >Calm< to them with his tail, “That’s Hanin; she’s just moved from Milna!”

“Hanin! What a beautiful name! I’m sorry I’ve scared you, Hanin; I promise you’re safe here with your herd, and that I won’t leave this seat until it is time to go home. Have you been in the Grove long, dear?”

She continued sitting there frozen, her ears swiveling around, but her tail signed a twitchy >No<.

“Then I’d like to welcome you, and thank you for joining us here. You know, I’m new here too! Only arrived around two weeks ago; which I believe you guys call a ‘herd’ of paws, or maybe a ‘trail’, I’m not sure? Where is Milna, is it far?” Their tail curled into a wide circle, then bounced pointedly up into the sky. A sign I wasn’t familiar with, though Ilnek filled the gaps.

“It’s a colony! We learned about it back in school; Bellwether Vana said we helped the Gojids get wood to make more homes!”

“A fellow astronaut, how wonderful! What was it like on Milna? Did you have winds like here in the Grove?”

Her tail flicked a ‘no’, but her ears swung in-to-out as well; a rather un-venlil signal, but reminded me of Ulmic’s very Gojid ‘no’, “It rained. It rained a lot. Especially at night. Dad told me to stay inside, said the exterminators said they couldn't get all the predators in the woods.”

“And he’s right; even here! You shouldn’t go into the woods without an adult you trust, ok?” Her tail bobbed a quick agreement, which I mirrored with my own nod, “In fact! Y’know, Hanin, my world has night and storms, too! I remember, one winter back home, we had a massive windstorm, stronger than any we had had in decades! I remember seeing the trees outside roiling, and the rain coming down in sheets. The storm screamed and wailed outside, and I was scared!”

I had expected a reaction, but not for the pups to laugh at me! “Yeah, yeah. Laugh at the big scary predator that’s scared of the wind. We’ve had tales about storms for millennia, and a good few of them involved the Wil-”

The Wild Hunt, Maeve? The Wild HUNT?! The cacophonous march of the restless dead who stole the curious from their homes? That’s what you’re going with??

“-ld…”

Wild Night? Will o the Wisp?

“…-d… d… Dance!” Dance of… Dance of the Sugarplu- Nope, not that one. But Fairies, uhh… Fairy… Host… the Faerie Host! The Sluagh!

“The Wild Dance of the Sluagh!”

Their tails thrashed across the ground with excited wagging, rushing against the cobblestone like a facsimile of hushed applause, every ear on me with beaming eyes and mouths agape; even Hanin, to my immense satisfaction, seemed to sit more comfortably and ready to listen.

And she sticks the landing!

“Ahem, stories like this one were used to explain the sounds that people heard when storms got particularly rambunctious. On Earth, Night happens every waking, and in my part of the world night could last as long as 15 hours; That’s almost 4 claws of night, every waking, for a whole harvest!”

The litter was alight with surprise and wonder, talking to their friends before I recaptured their attention and continued, “And before electricity, that meant that our towns, villages, and cities got dark, dark as the void between stars, which let people’s imagination fill the space with all manner of stories!”

“And this story begins, in a forest.” The herd settled down, all ears on me as tails lulled lazily around their seated selves, and I animatedly started my tale, waving my arms wide as I set the stage.

> “Many, many years ago, when the world was young and the forests were wild, a small village grew along the treeline, growing from the crossroads of many cities. Young Brienne O’Coagh, a weaver girl, lived there with her Mother, Father, and Grandmother. Her Mother taught her of Here, of how to thrive where she grew and become more than the roots that fed her. Her Father taught her of There, of spices and silks, of people large and small, and cities old and new, of how to grow with the world and be ever ready for its complications.”

Alright we got here and there, now and later, so… I hunched down and brought my voice low, like I was telling a secret for only the pups’ ears.

> “And her Grandmother taught her of Then, of the old world and its mysteries. Of the Fair Folk, and the Underhills, of those who have always been and always will be. She taught her never to enter the forest on moonless nights, where the dark was deep but never empty. She taught her to be a kind host, and a kinder guest.”

There’s the setting, now for the conflict…

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

> “But most of all, she taught her to beware the winds of Samhain, for they were the hoots and hollers and peals and roars of the rancorous Sluagh!”

I had been getting louder, almost barking the name of the Faerie Host and making some in the litter gasp and shrink as I held my hands like claws just above my head.

> “She taught Brienne that they would whisk her away, steal her from friends and family, carried on cold winter winds forevermore!”

Ok, there’s the spook, let’s bring it back… I had nearly stood out of my seat, many of the litter holding their tails with ears back. Hanin was taking this remarkably well; not as well as the other pups, but better than most xenos when they first met me. Ilnek kept an eye and an ear on her, signing an excited stream of >Calm< >Fun< >Safe< back to her; I returned to a normal volume, putting an air of caution behind my words.

> “But Brienne was smart and sharp; she listened, all, to her Mother, Father, and Grandmother, learning from them each to be the sum of all, and she knew their wit, combined in her, would shine like a candle in the dark!”

The pups had relaxed a fair bit, and I noticed several of the adults were slowing their work and listening in.

> “But! While wit could be taught, wisdom came with years. Years she did not have, and so she believed her lessons enough to be more than their caution. So it was that one dark night, when the winds whirled with wild celebrations of Summer’s End, she left the hamlet in search of an adventure, and learned how wrong she was!”

Ilnek looked like a kid opening their first pack of Neutron Ranger cards, eyes nearly sparkling as his attention locked on me. Alright, let’s pick it up, paint a picture and get moving.

> “Her cloak whipped in the gale, catching on thorn and twig who tried desperately to keep her home, to not follow the winds that tempted her deeper into the dark woods! But she did not listen to the thorn or twig; she pulled the cloak free and pressed on. The wind called her ever down, down into the dark, down into the old woods, where the roots gnarled and twisted through the underbrush, and the trees became giants, stretching so high she could no longer see the branches.”

And the Elsewhere.

> “It was only after the last light of the last star was swallowed by the forest that she saw it: firelight, dancing in the cavernous space between pillarous arbors. Closer she crept, closer to the center of the storm where tumultuous winds grew to barking laughs and joyous cheers! She crouched behind a massive root and peeked over, seeing a great crowd of twirling dervishes in gay celebration, pulsing along with a whirling drum and song. Dozens of people were dancing in the grove, unknown but familiar, friends long forgotten and beasts seen through the trees, and every one was laughing and chanting along together,”

>

> “Bímse fhéin a' radairacht

> A' radairacht,

>

> A' radairacht,

> Bímse fhéin a' radairacht

> Ag iarraidh bean a bhréagadh”

I started vocalizing a lilting rhythm, tapping my knees in time and bouncing my body along with the song. The litter quickly picked up the beat and papped their tails against the road in a ripple of soft whaps on cobblestone, some better timed than others; Hanin - interestingly - tapped her thighs and bounced much like I was, as if trying to mimic me.

> “She was so entranced by the song and dance, it was like the very breath in her lungs were pulled to the center of the grounds, pulling her from her hiding place and into the storm of dancers.”

>

> “When she reached the eye of the storm, she spied a familiar blue tunic, one that tickled memories long forgotten, but a name lingered on the tip of her tongue.”

I raised my hand high, like I was waving to an old friend, “‘Liam?! Liam!’”; a few of the pups called his name with me, three or four venlil tongues enjoying how easy Lee-im was to say for them. Some in the audience - especially the few adults - stiffened at the sudden movement but the children were simply entertained!

I brought my focus back to the herd and grew more energetic, bursting my white-gloved hands like stars,

> “The boy spun around at the name, eyes alight when they met Brienne’s and he ran to her side, gladness on his face and just as small and sprightly as he had ever been! ‘Liam!’ She cried, ‘We used to run in the fields, and play in the river! What has kept you away? What has kept you so like what I remember?’”

>

> “Liam laughed, harsh and snapping, like icy leaves under your paws, ‘Our friends have! When I fell into that cold river, I woke up There! Where the forest leaves glitter like gold and the sun ever shines! I met these fellows around you, and together we ran, and danced, and played through the forest! With their food I was never tired, with their water I never grew, and with their music I was never sad!”

>

> “Brienne thought, and remembered!” I slowed down, letting the mood change low along with my voice, “Liam, the boy she knew, one day many years before, was found in that same river, cold as ice and still as death.”

The more tense pups gasped, but a few of the adults giggled mutedly, by now recognizing the cautionary tale as what it was; just a story. The work around the commons was finished, only a few grownups were finishing their tear-downs while the rest came to listen. Bilvee kept her distance, not as brave as her little Ilnek to join the front row, while one I hadn’t met yet sat with Mulva and started nursing her, and others sat with their own.

I used their support to allow me to be more bold, building my volume, broadening my voice to sound big and foreboding,

> “She remembered, and in that moment saw this was not Liam, but one of the Sluagh!”

Again I barked, almost coughing the name. Only a few pups bleated, and I didn’t miss old Carvit nearly honk! The pups had gotten used to the story by now, flinching only a little while still wagging fitfully and swinging their ears as if to catch my every echo. I picked up my pace again, building to the big conflict,

> “The Thing-That-Wasn’t-Liam offered his hand, his voice seeming to come from all around her, ‘Here! Dance! Join us and Dance!’ The music pulled at her feet, and the drum beat with her heart, but she knew, just as her grandmother told her, that if she danced with the Wind, it would carry her off to the Far Lands, never to return!”

I cut my arms across me to emphasize my point, making the pups pull back and many ears to go flat. I still had their attention, but I needed to be careful here,

> “She stepped back, stumbling on her heels and nearly falling. She looked about and saw them all change, saw their trickery burned away like mists in the sun. Their forms shifted, from man to beast to weed to tree, but never quite right. Their smiles were too wide, their fingers too thin, their leaves too green and their tails too long; what she saw defied description, for to describe the Sluagh, was to describe the dreams of wind! Brienne looked at the face of What-Once-Was-Liam, his smile a wide rictus grin framed by pale blue lips…”

I brought my voice low, terror behind my tongue,

> “And she ran.”

The herd seemed excited at that, ears coming back up and tails loosening from around their bodies,

> “Ran as far and as fast as her legs could carry her, back into the woods behind her, back into the dark. Thunderous roars were at her heel, howling against the trees around her! She could hear their beckoning song on the wind that buffeted her winter cloak, trying to turn her around and confuse her, but she pressed on.”

>

> “A claw and more she ran, ever pushing into the torrential headwind that tried to push her back, until she saw light in the trees; firelight in a window! She was almost there! She could hear What-Once-Was-Liam behind her, calling her name, ‘Brienne! Brienne!’ and felt their long fingers snatch at her back. She cleared the final thicket and burst from the forest with her heart in her throat, but she could no longer feel the howling winds that pulled at her, only hear them, echoing through the woods and slowly fading. Brienne kept running, back home, back to her village, screaming through the silent night for her Mother, Father, and Grandmother!”

I paused for a moment, letting only the sounds of the pups breathing quickly bounce about the commons, before I whispered with victory,

> “There, across the field, she saw it; her warm barrow! She had made it!”

Immediately the litter burst into a chorus of squeals and whistles, drumming their tails and cheering in celebration, I called over the din, finishing the story in high spirits,

> “The door to her home opened ahead of her, and she leapt into the arms of her family, promising never to chase the winds again. The. End!”

I cheered along with the litter, the pups all bouncing in their seats and waving their ears excitedly! Even as the gales of the coming Venlillian night built to a howl around us, rattling the protective boards that now barred windows and less sturdy entrances. The parents held their pups close against the gusts as I called over the din, “Guess it’s time to head home! Stick close to your parents, and be careful!”

The commons was a blur of motion as pups were collected, equipment was stowed, and everyone struggled against the gale. The ride back in the cart was similarly harried, taking twice as long and more than once coming up on two wheels. Valek drove it right into their workshop, opting to keep it indoors for the storm, and we entered the house from there.

We all crept into the darkened first floor of the burrow, trying not to wake Valek’s parents during their rest claw. We paused at Valek’s request and he listened intently, before relaxing and padding into the kitchen, “I can hear mom’s radio, so they’re fast asleep; we should be good. Who wants some soup?”

“Please, yes, I’m freezing.” I sighed as I held my arms tight around my chest, trying to will myself not to shiver madly.

Alvi curled her tail playfully as she padded over to the fridge, “You said you needed pelts, but a lot of good they’re doing you! I could actually go for something cold and sweet, where do you keep the chilled fruit?” - “Bottom drawer on the right.” - “Ooh, stingfruit!” - “Uin’s in the ceramic, by the forge, sunsap sugar’s in the bowl by the kettle.”

“What’s stingfruit?” I asked as Valek handed me a steaming bowl of sturen porridge.

Alvi’s ears were high and happy as she came back with a small ramekin of ‘uin’, “It’s a sour fruit! Best cold and with a little uin to sweeten it. Here!”

I took the slice she gave me, and even from just smelling it I knew it would bite my tongue something awful. There was a refreshing lightness to it, not unlike a lemon, though the acidic tang was strong enough to tickle my nostrils. Holding the slice in my hand, it looked like the whole fruit would be a little larger than an apple. Its skin was tough but pliable, carrying a thick layer of smooth light pink flesh that seemed to tear when I tried to invert it, so I scooped a bite of it using the spoon from my stew; my spoon cut into it with some effort, though smoothly.

I tried my first bite without the ‘uin’, and immediately regretted it. My whole face scrunched in on itself as my tongue felt like I taste-tested a battery! Valek and Alvi were giggling at the table as I fought for my life, though I refused to spit it out. After several moments, the sourness leveled out and I was able to appreciate the almost tropical citric taste, finally chewing now that I was emotionally ready for its ridiculous acidity.

Alvi reminded me of the ‘uin’ and I poured a bit on my spoon to try, pleased at the more familiar salty-sweet taste from the mixture. Armed with the sugar-salt, I sprinkled some of the uin on what was left of the slice and tried again, this time biting into the crescent like it was an orange wedge. The acid stung my gums, but the flavor otherwise was entirely changed!

The acidic tang was mellowed significantly by the sugar, made fuller and fresher than it already was, lighting up my taste buds like a summer breeze, while the salt magnified it, filling my mouth with a delicious fruity sweetness! Alvi swung her tail delightedly as she watched me, before she slid another wedge my way after taking a pinch from the ramekin for her own. Now properly seasoned, I bit into mine eagerly.

“Did…”

I looked up from my slice to see Valek stirring his stew absently, “... Is that a real story? I’ve uhh… I’ve noticed you say something, sometimes, but stop yourself, like you did at the start of the story. How much of that was true?”

I took my time chewing, trying to think of how to answer that, “... That story was fiction, obviously. The ‘Brienne O’Coagh’ of this story, and the Sluagh, are not and have never been ‘real’; but I know that’s not what you’re asking.” I took a deep breath, and Valek looked downcast, “No, ‘The Wild Dance of the Sluagh’ is not a traditional story, I made it up; hopefully Gramma’s proud of her little seanchaí. But I built that story, as I told it, based on parts that are very old stories from human history. We’ve seen ‘cautionary tales’ in cave paintings; from before language! The three-act structure is a little more modern, but still at least a thousand years old. A concept of ‘familiar but wrong’ is present in most early cultures, most specifically in northern Europe, which is where the idea of the Fae came from.”

“So what were you about to say?”

“Uhh…” I set aside my stingfruit rind and stew, clearing the space in front of me to give the pair my full attention, “So… please don’t freak out, but… I was about to say the ‘Wild Hunt’.”

Alvi quickly shifted focus back to the rest of her stingfruit, while Valek just looked at me in disbelief, “I know! I know the name sounds bad, but it really is just a story trying to explain storms at that time of year, seriously! It was pretty widespread too; there’s Japan’s Night Parade of One Hundred Demons, Polynesian Nightmarchers, the Sluagh are from Scotland, and then the Wild Hunt-”

“What on the Arm convinced you that was a good story to tell?! To children, Maeve? Really??” Valek sighed, exasperated.

“It just happened! It’s really not as bad as you think it is, just… I’ll just show you, ok? I’ve got an anthology back in the apartment.” I quickly stood from the table, striding to the front door and nearly donking my head on a support brace for my hubris.

Valek sprinted in front of me, “You don’t need to go, it's horrible out there! Let’s just forget it and move on; please come back for break-meal?”

“It’s fine! I need to get out of this thing and start the wash anyway, I’ll be right back.” I bent to kiss his crown, stepped aside, and left the burrow.

The door was immensely heavy against the storm and it was an effort to keep it from slamming, but I found success regardless. I leaned into the wind and worked back to the apartment, my cloak whipping and snapping downwind of me as I struggled through the twenty meters of open ground back to my apartment. I took a deep breath as I stepped inside, quickly taking off my burka and throwing it into the washer in the bathroom. Finally free of the accumulated rank of the veil, I undid the bun of my bright orange bushel and bounced my hair, coaxing fresh air back to my scalp. My eyes landed on the bookshelf and I stepped quickly to it, pulling a thick paperback with a stylized picture of Zeus readying a bolt of lightning printed on the cover. I flipped through the contents and index, making sure it had Odin’s Einherjar, the Hyakki Yagyō, and a few of Aesop’s Fables for good measure.

But.

As I left for the door, something stung my senses. There was the damp musk of a place lived in, maybe with less airflow than was ideal, but something else… A thick sweetness that was weirdly familiar. I started sniffing around the room, feeling it get stronger here and there; it was earthy, but fuller, almost smoky. I followed my nose to the back of the apartment, almost tasting it as I flipped back my blankets to an empty bed. It was surprisingly complex, but above all else sweet. The earthy smell reminded me of forests, and mornings. Of laughter over a table, and comfort. It smelled like hazel eyes in sunlight, and pancakes.

… Why…

… Does my bed smell like maple?