The Land of Broken Roads

Maybe the danger was never the water at all. Socks and Dirt looked at each other, then at the dark pit the water fell into with a dull roar, watching in growing dread to see what would come out of it.

The mysterious creature’s thoughts were disjointed and confusing, resembling little either of them were familiar with. It didn’t think in pictures, or even emotions—just raw awareness. Motion without intent.

-I don’t like it. It doesn’t think with its mind.- said Socks.

“Me neither. Do you think it knows we’re here?” asked Dirt, even though it obviously did. He pulled himself out of the water and looked around. He was only two pillars away from the edge of the basin, and four away from Socks. He wished he could swim faster. Or run on top of the water. Or jump twenty paces to hop from pillar to pillar.

-Hold still,- said Socks, insistent.

Dirt immediately froze, even holding his breath for a moment.

They both watched the creature’s thoughts, trying to make sense of them. It had flashes of awareness, things that might be distance or shape or texture, but it was even worse than the trees. The trees had a rhythm to their thoughts, a connection from one thing to the next. Dirt felt like he might be able to understand it someday, but not this. There were too many gaps, too much emptiness, and the thoughts that crossed its mind told him absolutely nothing.

-Hide your thoughts, just in case. Keep holding still.-

Dirt tried his hardest to shut his mind, but he’d only tried it for an instant here or there and needed more practice. Socks’ thoughts disappeared, the burning light of his mind completely vanishing.

His eye caught motion down there and he peered as hard as he could. Something thin waved frantically, just beyond the edge of the light. Then another, then twenty.

A mass of writhing tentacles of pale, slimy brown wiggled out of the dark opening. Hundreds of them. They spun and twisted around each other in a display that turned Dirt’s stomach. They were all connected at the back end to a featureless creature as tall as Socks, but completely round and much fatter. It had four thick, stumpy legs that it hardly seemed to use.

The thing slid from the opening like it was being squeezed out. It was only visibly for an instant before it slithered forward into the water.

Dirt felt more exposed than he ever had in his life. Right out in the open on the very top of a stone pillar no wider than he was tall, and nowhere to go but in the water with… that. There was no hiding beneath the hot, insistent sun. It seemed to be shining extra hard right on him so everything would know where he was.

Socks wasted no time. Still panting, he pulled himself up onto the pillar he’d been resting his head on, standing precariously for only a moment before he leaped across toward Dirt. First one pillar, then the next.

Dirt turned sideways and bent over so Socks could catch him in his mouth and keep moving. He stood at the farthest edge of the pillar and watched the clear, deep water for any hint of motion.

Socks landed only one pillar away, then jumped again. Dirt held his breath, bracing for impact.

The giant pup gave only the briefest yelp as he was grabbed out of the air by a bundle of tentacles and yanked under water.

Dirt jumped to the other side of the pillar and tried to see under the water, but the splash made it impossible to see clearly. Only a few feet beneath the surface, Socks thrashed wildly. Bursts of red made clouds that fogged the view even further.

“Socks!” he screamed in despair, both aloud and in his mind. “Socks!” His whole body shook as he edged helplessly toward the water, wishing he could do anything at all.

The wolf pup’s snout surfaced for just an instant, long enough to suck some air into his mighty lungs. Two bloody tentacles writhed in his teeth, and Socks bit and turned his head, ripping one off and tearing the other wide open.

It pulled him back under. Socks gave up trying to hide his thoughts and Dirt was hit with a flash of ferocity that he was unready for, primal and raw.

The pup’s thoughts leaped from focus to perfect focus. Bite here. Pull that. Rip. Bite. Claw. Socks’ thoughts cycled too fast for Dirt to follow, reminding him once again what it meant for Socks to be a wolf and Dirt to be a human.

“O Gods, O ye Gods…” muttered Dirt in desperation, but he didn’t know what should follow, or what gods were. He knew it was a cry from deep in his heart, and that was all.

The thing seemed to be slowly dragging Socks down deeper and deeper, grabbing here and there for only a moment to pull then letting go before Socks could get his teeth on the tentacle. Bit by bit, it was winning. Socks was already tired and was running out of air again.

“Try jumping! Off the pillar, or the ground! You can get away!”

-It’s not so easy,- sent Socks, in a single, instant puff of thought.

Dirt’s mind raced. He had to do something. “Okay, brace yourself. Ready, set—!”

He jumped into the water, arms and legs stretched out to make the biggest splash he could. A distraction—that was all he could offer. As soon as he hit the water, he scrambled back to the pillar, and utter terror propelled him back up quicker than he expected. No sooner had he rolled onto the flat wet stone than five tentacles shot up out of the water, right where he had been. Dirt rolled to the far edge and twisted as they slapped down, feeling around for him.

It was enough, and a moment later Socks flew up out of the water, toward the edge of the basin. Bits of tentacle fell off him. His handsome gray fur was streaked with wet, muted red.

He missed the nearest pillar by only a body length, but the tentacles it grabbed him with were too extended to pull him back under. Socks got three of his paws on the lip of the pillar and pulled himself up.

That left Dirt alone on this pillar, dangerous water all around him and no way to escape. He lay as flat as he could. From what Dirt could discern of its thoughts, it knew he was there, but he couldn’t tell anything else. Dread squeezed him, crushing his chest and driving out all the air in a slow whimper. The water all around fell quiet as the waves from Socks’ splashing faded and vanished.

-I want to lure it out. I want to kill it.-

Dirt hated that idea. His whole body jolted in reaction. He wanted nothing more than to get away, far away, as fast as possible.

“How?”

-I don’t know.-

Dirt’s mind filled with helpless anger, which might have been simple panic. He had no idea how to lure it either. No knowledge of the monster, no understanding of anything. He was just going to die for no reason. One slap from a tentacle—that’s all it would take.

These emotions, this lack of focus, would not save him. As if by instinct, or perhaps long practice in the life he’d lost, he schooled his thoughts. He gave up on hopelessness and focused on the situation. If Socks wanted to kill it, then Dirt would help him. What were they, if they couldn’t trust each other?

The creature’s thoughts remained empty, devoid of any planning or meaning or anything that could be considered proper thought. Just awareness. An image of the full shape of the basin, and where Dirt and Socks were. The image didn’t stay constant, not quite; it had to refresh every heartbeat or so.

Only one thing helped—Dirt knew right where it was. Right there, in the center of its image of the basin. He sent the thought to Socks, in case he missed it. Then he asked, “Can you push a pillar on it? Maybe if you kick it sideways when you jump off—“

-It will fall too slowly. The water will slow it down.-

“Okay. Well, even if it’s slow, it’ll have to move away, right? Jump to that pillar, then this one, and pick me up and knock it over at the same time.”

-When I get close, stand up and jump in my mouth. I won’t have time to reach. And take a big breath because if it pulls us under you will be glad you did.-

“I’m ready.”

Socks and Dirt sent mental pictures of the plan back and forth in a single instant, and they had the same idea.

It was time. Socks jumped, and no sooner had he crossed the edge of the water than several thin tentacles shot out to grab him. Socks was ready and twisted in the air to bite one and sever it. The others winced away.

He landed flawlessly on the next pillar over, then jumped again. This time the creature below didn’t attack, at least not immediately. Its awareness shifted. It was moving.

“It’s coming!” thought Dirt, getting ready to jump.

-I know.-

Socks landed just to the side of the pillar, pushing the edge with all four paws. Dirt took the deepest breath he could and dove headfirst into Socks’ mouth. He only got in about stomach deep, leaving the rest of him to flail in the air, but at least Socks caught him with his tongue and not his teeth. The pup spun in place and kicked off.

The creature was rising rapidly. Its tentacles slapped out of the water and flailed. This time it wasn’t a grab.

Socks turned in the air to avoid attacks that Dirt was not in a position to see, but it wasn’t enough. Dirt heard at least four heavy thuds. Their minds were so close he felt the Pup’s rush of pain in his own body.

They landed a few paces past the lip of the basin and Socks tossed Dirt farther out of the way in a bruised, graceless heap.

Dirt lurched quickly to his feet and started moving away, but he turned before getting far. Socks’ fur all stood on end and he started making a growl so low that Dirt felt it in his chest.

The monster was already halfway out of the water, and as it pulled its bulk from the basin, Dirt finally got a good look at it. It was all brown and gray, like the decaying stuff at the bottom of the water basin. And it was big, too—as tall as Socks at the shoulder but thicker and heavier, perhaps stronger. Its torso was featureless and round, with four fat legs and a stubby, motionless tail. It had no head, or even a neck—a convulsing, knotted mass of hundreds of tentacles took their place. No face, no mouth.

The tentacles snapped all at once to fling the water off, then unknotted fully and stretched out to fill the air. It stepped forward with a deep thud.

-If I turn to run, it will attack. I must fight. You must get away.-

“I’ll help!”

-How, silly human?-

“I don’t know yet!”

Socks stood gingerly on his back leg. He was already bleeding heavily from several places, but Dirt had no time to feel guilt or pity before the onslaught began anew.

Several tentacles withdrew and shot out. Socks leaped to the side, but his injured hind leg slowed him down just enough to get him struck. The barbed end of a tentacle opened the skin from nose to ear, right over the eye.

Socks snapped his jaws and caught it as it pulled back and ripped it off. The spray of blood mixed with his own and dripped down his bared fangs.

Dirt ran, but not away. He ran sideways, trying to keep at the edge of its range and circle around it. The creature might not have trouble keeping track of him; it had no face, let alone eyes. But it was better than nothing. He still had no idea what he could do, but he’d find something. He had to.

Tentacles near the back of the slithering mass bunched up. Dirt shouted “Dodge!” with his voice and mind together.

Socks almost jumped away in time. Almost. Two tentacles spun at the end and slapped his front shoulder, knocking him to the side. The pup kept his feet.

-Not fast enough,- said Socks, angry.

“What can I do?” asked Dirt desperately.

-I don’t know. Dodge!-

Dirt obeyed before he saw the attack coming and dove forward at an angle just in time for two tentacles to puncture the air inches above him. Only being so small saved him. He rolled to the side and jumped to his feet again, eyes wide to watch for more.

It attacked them both at the same time. In their haste to warn each other, neither were ready. It grabbed Dirt around the ankle and pulled him off his feet, and only a lucky flinch kept a second tentacle from splitting his skull open. He still got a good crack above the ear, which turned his already-injured face bones into pure agony.

Before he could even see straight, Dirt pulled himself forward with all his strength, then doubled over and grabbed the tentacle with both hands. It was about as thick as his wrist with a soft, slimy surface that slid over whatever was inside, making it hard to keep his grip. He tore into it with his teeth, fueled by Socks’ fury.

Blood filled his mouth, mixing with the slime and turning his empty stomach. He ripped and tore, and bit again. The tentacle tried to pull back, but Dirt bit even harder, so hard he was afraid he’d crack his teeth. He tore and bit deeper, and deeper, and finally ripped it in half. He accidentally swallowed a little and had to fight to keep from retching.

Dirt scrambled back and rolled to the side, then stood and kept moving. The creature’s focus was not on him, however. It kept a majority of its tentacles extended in a thick, uneven circle and slammed then down at Socks from every angle, trying to finally bring him down.

The pup was barely hanging on. He bit clean through three tentacles wrapped around his front legs at the cost of two heavy strikes against his ribs, and Dirt felt the pain flash in his mind each time. The pup’s fur was red and pink now as much as gray. Blood dripped from the longer fur on his belly.

Somehow, the creature knew where Socks and Dirt were looking. It knew to attack from the periphery. It was only a single thing, but it had them both surrounded.

Dirt quickly stepped back, trying to get just out of the thing’s reach. As he went, he tried to open more and more of his mind to Socks, to share everything he saw, every motion of every tentacle from an angle the desperate wolf couldn’t see.

Socks did the same. The pup sent everything in one steady stream, every scent and sight and sound. Dirt received it all and learned how to send more of himself, with greater clarity.

The dual streams of pure thought kept both of them alive for another few heartbeats. The creature shot out another bundle of tentacles for each of them and this time, finally, they saw them in time to move. Dirt was a small target, and Socks was uncannily quick on his paws, even injured.

Dirt could do this. He could help. He was not big and strong, but he could look, and he could trust. He opened himself, gave everything he could.

Their minds began to fold together. Dirt felt it start to happen and surrendered himself further, giving everything, receiving everything. Eagerly. Socks registered surprise at the intensity of it, and for the first time, Dirt was glad for his child’s body and mind, which could process emotion so intensely.

Socks didn’t resist. He followed Dirt’s lead. Their minds merged together with a psychic snap they both felt.

Five tentacles struck at Socks from five angles, and he easily sidestepped them all and grabbed the last in his teeth and severed it. Dirt and Socks both tasted the blood, its rich flavor of life and triumph. Socks stepped in to grab another, which he yanked tight instead of tearing, preferring to let it rip off slowly.

Two tentacles came for Dirt, but he had Socks’ reflexes and perspective now. He moved only inches, first one way, then the other, and was never touched. Before the beast could withdraw its tentacles, Dirt grabbed one and bit. They laughed, swallowing the creature’s blood.

The battle reversed then, with Socks making quick work of too many of the beast’s tentacles. Each attack cost it several more. Most were only injured near their ends, but that still seemed to limit their usefulness.

The two who were one stepped back, not forward, hoping to bring its bare, unprotected belly farther from the water.

Finally, the creature had enough. They sensed the faintest hint of frustration from it before quickly vanishing.

It stretched out all its tentacles overhead, even the injured ones, and wound them together into a great rope four times its body length.

Dirt ran forward at full speed as it slammed the thick mass down onto Socks, who stepped out of the way. The pup leaped over the thick tentacle rope as the creature swiped it side to side, and Dirt only barely made it to the creature’s front legs in time, where it couldn’t hit him.

There was no doubt that a swat from that tentacle rope would kill either of them. They both felt the incredible force behind it. It rose high overhead and swatted down at Socks, hitting the ground so hard the shock wave almost knocked Dirt over.

Dirt dodged a fat foreleg as the thing tried to stomp on him. The beast swung its tentacles overhead and stepped back, trying to open enough room to get a good swing at the boy.

But the wolf was ready for the distraction. He darted in too fast for eyes to follow and sank his teeth into the creature’s thick, slimy skin. They felt the teeth puncture and tear, the watery taste of its skin and the richness of the blood underneath.

The pup spun, ripping open a huge gash in the creature’s side, then leaped back, ready to dodge. The creature turned its attention from boy to wolf and thrashed wildly, slamming the tentacle rope into the ground in a hundred random places.

Dirt dodged again as the thing stomped wildly, hoping to get at least one of them. It ignored the loop of intestine that slid out of the wound, but Dirt didn’t.

He darted in, wolf’s eyes guiding him between its legs, and grabbed the intestine with both hands. He turned and ran as hard as he could.

The creature turned and raised its tentacle rope to crush him, but Socks used the opening to grip the thing’s knee with his teeth and steal its momentum.

Its guts were long, far longer than they expected. Dirt made it out of the tentacle’s range and kept pulling. The beast slowed and grew weaker, and Socks no longer even needed Dirt’s perspective to dodge its attacks. Again and again he jumped in and ripped away the creature’s rubbery skin.

Socks opened a hole big enough to get his entire head in, and whatever he pulled out was the last thing they needed to finally kill it. The wretched creature slid to the ground in a heap of gray flesh. Its tentacles twitched long after the light of its mind winked out.

The rush of battle faded quickly, and as soon as it did, their minds slid apart. Once they were two again, they reached out to each other, this time in triumph. They exchanged no words—only the feeling of celebration, of victory, that swelled in them both. They had done it. Socks had performed his task and kept Dirt alive. And Dirt had not been useless, like they’d both expected.

Their cheer slipped away, though, as the horror of what had just happened started sinking in. They increasingly remembered the disgust the monster caused in them and Dirt regained the nausea he felt at the taste of its blood and flesh, which still lingered in his mouth. He wished it tasted like it did to Socks, but he had a boy’s tongue, not a wolf’s.

The pain of their injuries grew also, and soon it was too much to keep ignoring. Dirt’s face hurt as much as it had a few days ago when he’d been punched and wanted to die. The fiery agony made that eye nearly blind again. He had bruises on his ankle from being grabbed and a few on his knees and shoulder that he couldn’t remember getting.

But that was nothing compared to Socks. The big pup’s handsome face had been laid open to the bone from nose to ear; somehow his eye was still there, but it was red and he couldn’t fully close his eyelid over it. Broken ribs made breathing difficult, and the injury to his back leg was worse than they’d realized. It was quickly swelling and becoming impossible to move.

Socks hobbled a few steps away from the dead creature and lay down on his side, unable to do anything else. Dirt limped over and buried his face in the pup’s neck, throwing his arms as far around as he could. Even though his own face throbbed in pain so hard he felt it down to his shoulders, Socks’ pain was worse. It came through the pup’s fur like sparks, making Dirt’s skin sting. Socks wasn’t even sending it—it was simply that bad.

Dirt’s pain was bad enough, but he might have been able to grit his teeth and bear it. But seeing Socks like this was more than he could stand and he could do nothing but weep. He cried into Socks’ fur, sending him all the love and remorse he could.

Socks’ mind was quiet now, his thoughts withdrawn and unreadable, and Dirt refused to think for even a second that Socks might be dying. Socks’ injuries were Dirt’s fault. If Socks had been alone, he could’ve easily gotten away. Socks had wanted a pet human and Mother made him pay the price for it.

“You did what Mother asked, Socks. That means you’ll live, right? You proved yourself worthy,” thought Dirt, trying not to sound so desperate. Strange that he could talk so calmly with his mind while his mouth was crying.

Socks didn’t reply, even though Dirt was sure he’d sent that thought loud enough for Socks to hear from wherever his mind had withdrawn to.

Dirt looked down, and sure enough, that was blood. It was pooling around his feet, probably from the enormous gash on Socks’ face; Dirt couldn’t tell from here, and he didn’t want to let go to check. O Gods, what if Socks really was dying? If you lost all your blood, you died.

“I’ll feed you and bring you water until you’re better. I’ll never leave you, never. I’m so, so, so sorry!” he thought. Pity and guilt swirled in him, making him feel like he was going to throw up.

-Be quiet, I am talking,- said Socks.

Dirt tried as hard as he could to quiet down and listen to what Socks wanted to say, even shutting down his tears with a surprising burst of willpower, but there was nothing to hear.

“…what?”

Socks gave no reply. He must be talking to someone else. Mother. He was telling Mother.

Would Mother come save him? She must. She had to, after her little pup had done what she said and killed such a disgusting creature, especially when it was a little bigger than he was. Mother could heal him, right? Would Mother blame Dirt for any of this? If so, she’d probably be right.

-Stop being silly. You are not in trouble. Remember that you saved me from the water current,- said Socks. Dirt supposed he had, so that was something.

The pup continued, -When he gets here, submit and say nothing.- Socks sent an image of himself laying on his back, stomach exposed, demonstrating perfect submissiveness. Then he fell asleep.

He? Who was ‘he?’ Another of Socks’ siblings? It certainly wasn’t Father, or Socks would have told him to run far away. Father would kill him just for being noticed. At least that’s what Socks said. So was it going to be a brother Socks’ own age, or a bigger one?

Dirt kept watch for a while, still leaning on the weary pup’s neck so he could feel the blood pumping and know he was still alive. Blood was everywhere, spattered all across the flattened grass and both himself and Socks. How much of it was the pup’s, he couldn’t tell, but certainly a lot. Dirt felt the pup’s pulse and waited, trying to hide from the black dread inside him.

Hunger was creeping in. Dirt had hardly eaten anything all day except the blood he swallowed. Even his muscles felt hungry, but he didn’t want to let go and find something to eat, not yet. Later.

Socks’ brother must be bringing food for him. What did the pup eat? Milk from Mother, probably, but what else?

Silently, suddenly, a shadow the size of the sky covered the sun and plunged the area into darkness. Dirt’s body recognized the presence of irrefutable power, freezing his bones with primal terror. He fell to the earth before his mind could make sense of what was happening.

He crawled a short distance away, trying to get away from the choking fear that made it impossible to breathe. Only then did his eyes adjust to the light, and above him was no shadow. It was black fur.

A wolf as large as Mother towered over him, head blocking the sun. But it was not Mother. Mother had been laying down, which hid a bit of her size. Father standing over him was nearly enough to make him lose all reason, and judging just from his presence alone, Mother seemed gentle in comparison.

Father’s coat was black with a few strands of gray, except where scars prevented fur from growing. His golden yellow eyes, bigger than Dirt’s whole body, burned and smoldered, their pressure bearing down on him like a hurtling boulder. Father’s jaws were closed, but a scar on one lip revealed a single fang large enough for Dirt to hollow out and sleep inside.

Dirt rolled to his back and showed his belly, trying his best to mimic the pose that Socks had shown him. How foolish, to think anything he did could influence a being like Father in any way! Still, he turned his head to keep from making eye contact again.

Father’s presence was enough to make it feel like Dirt was being smashed into paste. Father’s eyes on him were enough to kill without effort. Without even meaning to. Dirt couldn’t see Father’s mind, and didn’t even dare look. It would be too great for his little self to process.

Dirt sensed motion and shut his eyes to focus on keeping his wits. Somehow he could feel Father’s head moving, its impossible weight carried by impossible strength, moving with impossible speed and grace. Nothing that large should be able to move so quickly, so silently.

He heard wet sounds and felt a wave of relief from Socks. Father was licking his wounds and the pup’s pain began quickly fading. Dirt could watch that, at least, in the pup’s mind. Watch Socks feel the cut on his face close and stop hurting, as other cuts and bruises were tended. The broken ribs were not mended, however, nor the bones in his rear leg.

Father sent Dirt a single burst of thought, offhandedly, like waving at a bug while doing other things. Then he lifted poor Socks by the scruff of his neck and left with a leap so quick and silent that Dirt wasn’t even sure what direction they’d gone. The ground didn’t even shudder—the only thing that told him the wolves were gone was the pressure on his soul finally relenting.

He was left to process what Father had told him, and he was glad that Father hadn’t used words like Mother did. Mother’s words had just about killed him, and Father’s would be no weaker. Whether it was from disregard or pity didn’t really matter, but tossing him a bundle of thought to look through was much gentler.

It took a moment to unpack it all. The mind merge was the first thing Father mentioned. It had never been done before, not in all the ages Father had seen, and he was older than the sun. Father wondered how it had happened and was interested in the novelty. Socks had proven himself for now and would continue to live for a while longer. And Dirt should go back to his nest and wait until he was wanted again, which would be soon.

If he didn’t make it in time, then Socks would never come again. That was clear and unmistakable. Father would not tolerate failure.

At the end of the burst, Father sent a long string of intricately complicated bundles of sensation, perceptions that Dirt couldn’t understand at first. But there was something familiar about their alien-ness and soon it struck him: Trees. They were trees, the names of the trees that they used amongst themselves. It was a map. Father had given him directions back to Home in a string of specific trees.

Dirt had no understanding of what the names might mean, or even if ‘name’ was the right idea, but each one represented an individual. The more he tried to understand them, the worse his headache got.

It would be a long, long way. Just crossing the field again might take more than day, let alone getting through the forest. There would be no baby ferns for a while, and maybe not any grubs. Did they grow out here? The ground was harder and matted so tightly with grass that Dirt wondered if he could even dig for them.

He looked back at the disgusting mess of dead creature, its slimy tentacles and slimy innards surrounding its featureless gray bulk. It lay dead on its side, two thick, stumpy legs hanging in the air. The corpse was unnervingly silent.

He looked down at himself, all the blood and slime and dirt mixed together, and felt too dirty to tolerate. Blood and dirt were one thing, but not its blood. He hurried over to the water and slipped in quietly. He scrubbed every inch with his fingertips, hair and toes and everything, until he was sure no trace remained. He washed his mouth out over and over, spitting it out each time. Then he swam to a cleaner spot and drank deeply, feeling how the chill of the water cooled down his insides to match his outsides. It mixed with the blood and slime he’d already swallowed and made him a little nauseous, but he ignored it.

Only then did he pull himself back out of the basin and started gingerly pushing his way through the tall grass, still wondering what he was going to eat.