They stayed under Dirt’s hasty shelter for a good portion of the morning, letting Antelmu practice seeing the thoughts of others and try to project his thoughts on his own. It wasn’t easy or straightforward for him, since the faculty of mind sight hadn’t completely opened. It had just slipped open a crack, just enough for things to squeeze in and out.
Dirt could sense the blockage, and understood now how Socks had opened Dirt’s with a tap of a claw and a little mental nudge. He was tempted to try the same on Antelmu and get it over with, but Socks disagreed. -Let’s see if humans can develop it fully all on their own, or if they will always need help.-
It turned out that Antelmu was able to press his mind sight slightly wider open on his own, after significant effort. It wore him out mentally and gave him a headache around the same time the rain diminished to a gentle drizzle.
Socks decided it was time to leave. He tossed the shelter aside out of nowhere, then got up and shook his fur. After only minor preparations, they were ready to go.
Dirt’s clothes were still wet, so he kept wearing Biandina’s old ones, even though they were comically longer than his limbs. The thick fur around all the openings kept him from rolling them up, so he just had to let them dangle and give up on using his hands for anything. Socks tossed him high in the air and told him to flap hard to see if he could fly like a bird, but it didn’t work, and it made Antelmu nervous.
That did give Dirt the idea that maybe he could craft clothing that would make it easier for an air elemental to carry him, and perhaps let him steer and even land safely. He’d have to give that some thought. But if he could manage that, the elementals might take him anywhere he wanted to go, without relying on root travel or Socks to carry him. Not that he planned on going anywhere without Socks any time soon.
The pup put both boys on his back and once they were holding on, left at a good run. The day passed without anything that stood out. Just travel, mostly, while hiding in Socks’s fur to avoid the freezing rain. Antelmu practiced his mind sight whenever his headache let him, and even drifted off into shallow naps throughout the day. Dirt supposed it was simply more tiring than it deserved to be, at least until he got it all the way open.
Curiously, the thing that drove Antelmu to keep practicing his mind sight with such determination wasn’t knowing the thoughts of others, or even conversing easier with Dirt and Socks. Nothing like that. No, the thing that he wanted to achieve had to do with horses. That was what he kept coming back to. Speaking to the horse directly, knowing all its thoughts without having to judge based on body language and context. He would be the greatest rider ever, with the greatest spear. True heroics—living a legendary life—was no longer just a fantasy or a dream anymore. It was already underway.
As the day pressed onward, Antelmu’s plans grew more involved. He didn’t explain any of it aloud, content to let Dirt and Socks see what he was plotting and ask questions if they had any; but he reasoned that if he could learn to see thoughts, then he could teach others, and that was probably true.
And if he could do that, then he could lead a band of warrior horsemen, each of them communing with their own horses. They would outwit and outmaneuver every enemy. No beast or pack of ragnuli would best them. They could raid the neighboring tribes, and never be short on—Well, no, he shouldn’t plan on that, not if he was going to help Dirt save all the humans together. But no one would raid his tribe ever again.
It was quite entertaining to watch Antelmu’s thoughts, it turned out, and Dirt learned more from it than he expected. How humans did ambushes, and how to get a horse to go where you wanted. Care and maintenance of the animals, which was a whole process. Dirt would never have guessed—Socks needed no maintenance at all, although he did like being raked. And fed. How human society worked in small groups. One man took the lead, but he had to act wisely or they would abandon him.
One thing that stood out above most of the rest, was the idea of skill with weapons. Dirt had been right to suspect there was a whole art to it. A human body moved in a particular way, and when two humans fought it was as much about outmaneuvering the other man’s weapon as it was who was stronger. Skill might not matter in a fight between an adult and a child, or between Dirt and a regular person, but otherwise, it mattered greatly. Antelmu even thought about drills to ensure that everyone got enough practice. In fact, leading others in mundane tasks was the majority of what he pictured himself doing.
The afternoon was full of rain again, but only for a few minutes each time as Socks ran. It would be raining hard in one spot but not the next, and Socks struggled to use ghost sight to avoid the worst of it. That wasn’t easy, because weather seldom manifested on that landscape, save only the thickest of storms. But it was all Socks had and it was better than nothing, so he did the best he could.
A day passed, and another. The weather might be making travel unpleasant, but with the ground Socks covered each day, it seemed less and less likely that Caeso was still out there somewhere, lurking nearby until he saw the chance to come drink Dirt’s blood.
Another day passed, a rainy one, and after that the weather turned cold again. In the morning, all the wet ground was slick with ice, and the weather stayed cold for several days after that, leaving loudly crunchy ice and snow everywhere Socks stepped.
Dirt had Antelmu teach him human skills from time to time, like how to tie various kinds of knots, and how to shoot a bow. Dirt had no knack for that, it turned out, and only got a little practice before he missed a target and shattered an arrowhead on a rock. After that, he had to make all his own arrows, but wood shaping made that task so easy that Antelmu started practicing hiding his envious thoughts.
The landscape was poor for the next several days, rough and jagged with rocks and thorny vines and not enough vegetation. Antelmu remarked mentally, “If I had to travel here, I’d probably walk my horse instead of ride it. Are your paws getting sore, Socks?”
-They would be, but I am using mana.-
Strangely, the area was teeming with prey, from countless tiny mammals to herds of goats that were all ornery and tried to fight back. Dirt slid down and butted heads with them, strengthening himself with mana. More than once, they knocked him head over heels, since they were heavier than he was and unexpectedly strong. If not for the horns, Dirt thought they might make great pets. Socks had a great time jumping away and watching them miss and once he was done playing, he ate more than he should have. The next day he walked rather than ran, afraid he was going to be sick.
Once they were out of the unpleasant, rocky area, the landscape became large mounds, almost too tall to be called hills, one after the other as far as they could see. Most had ridges of stone jutting out that cut straight lines across the side of an otherwise smoothly curving lump. Socks speculated that long ago, the area might have been flat until something like Father had a big fight here and tore it all up. Dirt thought it was too uniform and spread out for that to be the case, though. It would have had to have been a fight that stretched miles and miles in every direction and did the exact same thing everywhere.
They hadn’t gone far into the hills before heavy snow began to fall, and after the three of them had accumulated three inches of it on their heads they decided to call it a day, even though it was hardly midafternoon. Antelmu and Dirt made a smaller shelter with a blanket and some sticks.
The next day, they started at first light, when the sky was still purple where it could be seen through the clouds. The snow was thick and a chill wind promised to bring more, and Dirt started getting sick of winter.
Around midday, Socks smelled smoke and turned sharply to go see what it was. Dirt nearly held his breath in anticipation of meeting yet more humans as Socks bounded eagerly across the hills, following the scent where it wove gently in the dips between them. They came upon an open area, a hollow where it looked like a single hill was missing amongst all the others.
A ring of stones had been erected, with stones across the gaps like lintels over doors. The gaps were narrow, only wide enough for a man to squeeze through, and outside, six horses had been tied and given bags of feed to eat while they waited. A hot fire glowed inside the ring, sending a plume of smoke straight up into the sky until it turned sharply where the wind overhead caught it.
Inside the ring of stones, at least six humans sat around the fire, chatting calmly. Dirt couldn’t get a good look at them through the gaps, but they looked to be wearing clothing similar to what he and Antelmu had on.
The boys slid down at the same time and started heading over. Socks stayed back and told the horses to ignore him and mind their own business, lest they try to flee and hurt themselves.
“This is a meeting place for different tribes. I know of one back near our lands. The openings are narrow to make it hard to bring weapons inside. You’re supposed to leave them out,” thought Antelmu. He scuffed his feet on the snow to make a sound, and for the first time, the men inside noticed the new arrivals. From the fact no one screamed, they didn’t spot Socks.
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Dirt looked at their minds and discovered they were surprised. They were expecting a different group entirely, from a different direction. Dirt and Antelmu were a complete mystery, a potentially threatening one. What were two unknown boys doing out here?
Antelmu took off the bow tied over his shoulder and set it down, then raised his palms to show his hands were empty. “Take off your dagger,” he told Dirt, speaking aloud.
Dirt stomped some snow flat to put his knife on so it’d be easy to find again later. Then he raised his palms and grinned eagerly. “Here we go again!” he thought. His fourth group of humans!
Antelmu gave Dirt a little smirk, as if he was an expert on humans, not just his one tribe. The older boy walked through the gap, his shoulders just narrow enough he didn’t have to turn sideways, and boldly went up to the nearest man and held his right hand out.
The man, who as far as Dirt could tell was indistinguishable from Antelmu’s people, hesitantly clasped it and shook. “This is a sign that our hands will hold no weapons while we’re here,” explained Antelmu mentally.
Dirt nodded and stepped forward, holding his own hand out. The man clasped it hard and shook, not without a hint of amusement in his eyes. Then they hand to shake the hands of the other five men, going around the circle. All that time, no one spoke.
Once that was done, they all sat around the fire again, the men staring in unabashed curiosity at the two of them. Dirt kept a smile on his face, but not too big of one, lest he look silly. Then, finally, the moment he’d been nervously waiting for. A man with no hood hanging off the back of his coat said, “So, what tribe are you from?”
He spoke with a thick accent, but it was Biandina’s tongue. The words were similar, but they came out of his mouth with an odd shape to them. He sounded like he was talking with a little rock under his tongue or something. Thank Grace, Dirt would be able to understand it without any help.
Antelmu said, “We aren’t here to represent any tribe, but my people live far to the east, past the wolves’ territory, if you know where that is. We are the people of the stone house.”
“Never heard of it. Where is the wolves’ territory? There are wolves everywhere,” asked a second man, shorter, but burly.
“Wait, really? There are lots of wolves here?” Dirt blurted out.
“They won’t come near the fire or the horses, little boy. Nothing to fear,” said the first man.
Antelmu, avoiding getting sidetracked, said, “It’s far to the east, like I said. And my tribe is even farther than that. You have to cross the rocky plains, then the normal ones, and the wolves claimed the mountains past the plains. There was a great city there once.”
“No, hold on, why would wolves care about fire or horses?” said Dirt.
There was an uncomfortable moment while the men looked at each other, unsure how to answer. “They don’t like those things. If you want to know why, you’ll have to ask them,” said a third man, who chuckled.
“Do you talk to them often?” asked Dirt.
“I only tell them, go away, go away! When they get near my sheep. Sometimes with an arrow,” said the third man again. He reminded Dirt of Ignasi, somehow, despite the lack of a beard.
“I can’t picture anyone doing that,” said Dirt. “How are you still alive?”
“I think they’re talking about ragnuli, not wolves,” said Antelmu.
“No, we are talking about wolves. Ragnuli are heavier and stunted, with arched backs, yes?” asked the first man.
“Yes, but—” said Dirt, biting his tongue.
“We are not talking about ragnuli. Those are a different creature. What do you think a wolf is?” asked the third man.
“How do I describe it? I’d say they’re shaped sort of like dogs, but that would offend them. The adults have black fur and the pups are gray, and they’re huge,” said Dirt.
“That sounds about right. And they hunt in packs and go after our livestock,” said the first man.
“I hope you don’t try to stop them,” said Dirt.
“Of course I do! Why should I let them get my sheep?” said the first man. All of them seemed somewhat off balance, torn between humor and curiosity.
“I’m so confused,” said Dirt.
“Me too,” said Antelmu.
They both waited for Socks to pipe up and say something, but he never did. Dirt twisted around and the big pup was nowhere to be seen. He was probably ducked down behind the nearest hill and watching with great amusement. There was no way these men would try to chase him off, if they saw him. Right?
“Let’s move on,” said the first man. “What are you doing here?”
Antelmu looked at Dirt to see who should answer, then said, “We’re making our way west, toward a giant forest. Dirt is from there, and we’re taking him home. We found this place by accident. My father is Demetriu and my name is Antelmu.”
“My name is Eramu,” said the first man.
“I’m Felici,” said the third.
“Larenzu,” said the second man.
Antelmu nodded sagely and asked, “Are you here to meet with another tribe?”
Eramu said, “Our tribe sends a delegation each year for half a moon, but it’s been more than a generation since the other tribe showed up. Mostly we’re here out of tradition, and to get away from our wives.”
The other men all snickered at that, eyes sparkling.
“Our tribe hasn’t had contact with any others in years, either. Maybe not even since I was born,” said Antelmu.
“It’s been a while, but it’s nice not to have to argue about grazing rights,” said Eramu. The sparkle was gone from his eyes, though.
“Did you know humans are dying out all over the world?” asked Antelmu. His voice was unsteady, and to Dirt he sounded like he was trying to be confident in front of the adults and not quite pulling it off.
“Where did you hear that?” asked one of the men who hadn’t said anything yet.
“I heard it from… well, everybody knows, don’t they?”
“I can’t speak for yours, but our tribe is growing. Do you have everything you need? Feed for your horses? Or for yourselves?” asked Felici. Dirt glanced at his mind, and he wasn’t quite telling the truth. It bothered him that the other tribe never showed up.
“We have plenty, thanks,” said Antelmu. “But we haven’t cooked anything in a while. I have salt I can share, if you have fresh meat to roast. All our meat is dried.”
“Have you ever had gryphon?” asked Eramu quietly, as if revealing something marvellous.
“No, but I’ve heard of them. We don’t have any where I’m from, we have rucce. Do you know what those are?” said Antelmu.
“If we do, we don’t call them that. Do you mean the giant birds with black feathers? That’s the only thing I can think of that’s like a gryphon.”
“Yeah, that’s the ones. What do you call them?”
“The big vultures. A gryphon is a little smaller, but still about twice the size of a horse. Not twice the height, but twice as big overall. They have four legs instead of two like other birds,” said Eramu.
“I’ve seen them. I have a scar on my leg from one,” said Dirt.
It was clear from their reactions that they didn’t believe him. He wasn’t sure what to do about that.
Socks said, -They were right. Two men are on horses, and they are dragging a dead gryphon on a big flat wooden thing that slides on the snow.-
Dirt looked around, and no one else had heard that. He replied, “How close are they?”
-Very close.-
Dirt stood up and said, “Well, shall we go greet them? Your two riders are almost here. Antelmu has never seen a gryphon.”
The others all stayed put. Larenzu said, “They’ll be here soon enough. No reason to get impatient.”
“No, really, they’re almost here,” said Dirt.
Antelmu got up and said, “If Dirt says they’re almost here, they’re almost here.”
“How would he know?”
“He’s a strange little boy, is how,” said Antelmu. He got up and followed Dirt back outside. The others remained sitting.
-Other direction,- said Socks.
Dirt and Antelmu hurriedly moved around the stone circle, which really was larger than they thought now that they had to go around it, and waited. No more than ten breaths later, a man called from nearby, just around the hill.
The others rose and shuffled out, giving sideways glances down at Dirt, all of them wondering whether he’d heard something they hadn’t, or just gotten lucky.
Soon after, two riders arrived in the hollow between the hills, horses straining to pull something bulky by ropes. When it got a bit closer, it was a large, flat wooden surface with two logs underneath to drag across the snow. It left a clear trail, and Dirt supposed it was easier to drag that way.
The men greeted each other warmly and excitement filled the air as they set about getting the ropes loose. The gryphon was folded up on the sled in such a way that it looked like a large pile of red and yellow feathers, but once the men untied the ropes holding it down, its form unraveled and Antelmu’s eyes widened.
It was indeed bigger than a horse, significantly so, nearly as large as Socks was when he first found Dirt. Its long talons were black and sleek, and its enormous beak hung open to reveal a surprisingly fleshy tongue, still damp.
“We found the nest at the luckiest possible time. Still took all eight of us to bring it down,” said Larenzu with pride.
“It’s beautiful,” said Antelmu.
“And deadly. If it wasn’t nesting, we would never have tried. If you ever see one of these, drop whatever you’re carrying and run,” said Eramu.
-I want to come smell it. Tell the humans not to run away or be scared,- said Socks.
Dirt nodded and said, “Is it okay if our friend the wolf comes to smell it? He won’t hurt anybody. And he won’t eat the gryphon, unless you give him some.”
Felici spun around, perplexed. “What do you mean, your pet wolf? You had one the whole time? What were all those questions, then?”
“Just… promise you won’t run away. Stay calm. He’s friendly, if you’re friendly,” said Dirt, holding his hands up in a conciliatory manner.
“If he bites someone, I’ll kill him, but it’s up to you,” said Eramu.
Socks came up over the hill where he’d been hiding, his dark gray form creating a looming shadow. One by one, the men froze in terror as the great wolf gently padded down and came closer.
“No reason to be afraid,” said Dirt. “His name is Socks.”
Not that speaking would do any good. No amount of explanation could prepare someone to meet Socks for the first time. But the warning had at least helped, because although the men backed away as fast as they could, none of them screamed or peed himself.
Socks was amused; Dirt could tell from his ears. -Hello, little humans.- He walked slowly, since moving too quickly was one way to seem scarier, until he reached the sled. He leaned down and gave the dead gryphon a good sniff, then another, moving around it and smelling it from beak to tailfeathers.
-I have never gotten this close to one before. They are interesting creatures. Did you know this one was a female with a nest with an egg? That must be how you killed it.-
Dirt could almost feel Antelmu’s mind working without looking. The boy froze, then nearly jumped. “It has an egg? Is it still alive?”
“We didn’t touch the egg,” whispered one man, trying and failing to speak.
“I want it! I want that egg! Can we go see if it’s alive, Socks? Please? I have the best idea! Please?” said Antelmu, nearly shouting in excitement.
-Why not? Hop on.-