The Land of Broken Roads

The sunlight failed to provide any warmth, except where it fell long and undisturbed on Dirt’s clothing, if he held still. That was not enough, and he found himself wishing those dead birds had fur so he could wear that. His clothing was too thin.

The girl was doing well and looked more relaxed now. She’d made peace with hovering in the air and although her meal of raw meat wasn’t sitting well in her stomach, the water Dirt gave her had already caused a positive change. Her cheeks and lips remained pale from having lost too much blood, but when he looked at her mind, she could feel the water helping.

In fact, right now, she was thinking of other ways to melt water. She’d started out on her travels eating snow, but it took a lot of snow and made her too cold. Perhaps if she had a big dark cloth, it would get hot in the sun and melt snow that would then drip into a pan? If she had a pan. But if she had a pan, then she could light a fire and melt it in that, but to light a fire she’d need… Her throat was dry again.

She turned her head to catch Dirt’s eye, then looked deliberately at some snow. She tried bringing her good arm up to mimic drinking again, but it caused twinges of pain in her torso and she let it rest, hoping Dirt would just figure it out.

Well, he did, because he could see her thoughts. Dirt nodded and gathered another big ball of snow and melted it down for her, then let it trickle into her mouth while she slowly drank.

The blood was still wet and chilly in places, its moisture held in by her thick fur clothing, and usually in a spot where her clothes had rents or holes in it. Truthfully, she looked awfully ragged, and the blood was probably going to be hard to wash out. The cloth parts of her clothing could be soaked in cool water to get the blood out, but what about the fur? That might not be a problem, but it was hard to say.

Cleanliness aside, with that many holes, her furs probably did about as much good as Dirt’s linen. Too bad the trees hadn’t had time to show him how they’d made their cloth. Or taught him to ask the elementals for language.

Socks was having a great time slicing up the corpses, though, and he was getting better at it as he went. There was only a short rest before the next piece was ready, and even shorter for the piece after that. From that point on, Socks sliced the meat away faster than Dirt could cover it.

After tossing a prodigious amount of snow, Dirt realized he was sweating. Lifting so much with his mind was still hard work, even if he did it in small chunks now instead of big ones. It was strange—he felt warm under his armpits and his legs were fine, but the air chilled the sweat on his brow and his back where his shirt was damp.

Finally it was done, and Socks helped cover the rest of the meat. Afterward Dirt sighed and stretched, trying to absorb as much sunlight as he could against the cold, which was already starting to seep in through his sweaty shirt. Socks made him and the girl eat another helping of pale bird flesh, more than they were strictly interested in, because who knew when they’d eat again? They couldn’t just carry the meat around until tomorrow. It would go bad. But it would be here, frozen, if they wanted to come back another time.

Socks stepped down the slope a bit to admire his handiwork and take in the stench of butchery that sat heavily on the still air. They had truly made a mess, an enormous one that went from mountainside to mountainside and covered the ground in blood and viscera and black feathers. The pup liked the smell, and Dirt had learned to appreciate it from him, but the girl preferred the wind to be blowing in the other direction. After a few moments of self-pride, it was time to go.

“I have one more thing first. Hold on for a moment,” said Dirt.

-What is it?-

“I want a staff, so I’m going to make one while there’s some wood around. They’re useful, and Home can’t manage it right now because we’re too far away.” Dirt stumbled his way back up the mountainside and into the nest, where he dug for a likely chunk of wood to use.

He found one the right weight and gathered a few good puffs of mana, then spoke the magic into the hidden world and commanded the wood to transform. Despite being dry and dead and old, it creaked and cracked and slowly responded. Straighten, he told it, and condense. He left it a hand’s length shorter than he was, then ended the spell.

Dirt swung it a few times, thumping through the snow and smacking it against exposed branches. It seemed solid enough. He stuck it in Socks’ harness.

He and Socks both regarded the young woman, who kept thinking the same thing over and over: Hè un diu? Deve esse un diu.

Dirt recognized one word, diu, as being similar to his word for ‘god’. She had a sense of reverent awe, which combatted an undeniable sense of dread within her. Her thoughts about Dirt’s potential godhood were complicated and rapid, and she couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he might be one. The dread, he gathered, seemed to be related to an impending disaster that she had either avoided or caused. She wasn’t sure herself.

“Why does she think I might be a god, but not you?” Dirt asked Socks.

-Aren’t gods all human shaped?-

“Are they?”

-All the ones you showed me are. But you better not say anything, if you don’t want her to think you are one. If she finds out you can read her mind you’ll never convince her otherwise.-

“That’s probably true. I think I’m just going to let her think she’s really good at body language.”

Socks dropped his jaw open and panted, eyes sparkling with amusement. He looked at the girl, then back at Dirt. -Me too.-

“Well, I’m ready to go if you are.”

-Should I let her stand up and move around a bit first?-

“No, not yet. I think she’s still too sore. Eventually she’s going to have to pee and we can let her walk then,” said Dirt. He inhaled a puff of mana and jumped up onto Socks’ back, then wondered where they were going to put the girl.

Socks had it all figured out, though. He lifted the young woman and lay her down on his back, with her head resting where Dirt usually sat. -Pat her head and make sure she’s ready, then you can lay on my neck and head. It’ll be fine that way for a while.-

“That works. Just let me know when your neck starts getting sore.”

Careful not to step wrong and tug at Socks’ fur, Dirt stepped around where she could see him.

The girl had a look of trepidation on her face. She knew what was about to happen, but not what to expect. And who could blame her? How many people had been privileged to ride a wolf, in all of history?

Dirt smiled and mimicked holding still, then nodded at her.

She lifted her hands a little, then acted like she was dumping something off to the side. Herself, he gathered. He looked at her mind, and she was indeed concerned about being dropped along the way.

Dirt shook his head and pointed at Socks, then at her, and made a holding-on motion. She panicked and tried to get a handful of the pup’s fur, so he had to correct himself. He pointed at Socks first, then made the holding motion, then pointed at her. After that, he pointed at her again, then smiled and made a pillow with his arms, and relaxed into it.

She got the idea. She kept a grip on Socks’ fur, though. Dirt knelt and made her unclench her fists so she wouldn’t pull any out, then guided her hand to show her she could stick it in there and keep it warm.

Once that was all taken care of, she looked at him with something important on her face that she couldn’t figure out how to express. He looked at her mind again and it was easy to read: Where are we going?

He had no good way to tell her, so he didn’t try. He just patted her on the head and lay against Socks' neck, resting his arms on the pup’s head, and his chin on those.

Socks weighed his bearing against his direction sense, then turned back around and headed down the mountain in the direction they’d come. -The bird was carrying her in almost a straight line from a human place. It’s not the closest one, but it seems the most likely.-

The pup picked up speed bit by bit instead of all at once to keep from terrifying his cargo, but it scared her anyway. Even with Socks’ curved mental shield in front to direct most of the cold wind away and nothing to look at but the sky, she could sense how fast they were moving. She felt the motion of the pup’s muscles below her and caught glimpses of lumps in the snow from the corner of her eye as he ran, and she spent the next while in a state of mild emotional distress.

Dirt and Socks had little to do other than watch her thoughts, which were easy enough to understand if they didn’t struggle to learn each word that went through her head. She kept having loud, imaginary arguments with several people, and not always the same ones. Two who must have been her parents, a man and a woman. And one who might have been the Father of her tribe, since he was old and seemed to be giving orders.

She wasn’t supposed to go back, but if the wolf was taking her home, then there was nothing she could do about it. She was worried in part for Dirt and Socks, fearing they might be attacked, which Socks found amusing. Her mental picture of that attack was four large men with spears.

They learned her name. Biandina. She kept picturing people yelling it in anger or surprise, calling it while they plead with her to leave, or sentencing her to death.

And she was certain they were going to kill her for returning. That was clear. She was deciding what to say before that happened. Some of it seemed conciliatory and apologetic, and some was harsh invective. Curses upon them, for letting her get too far in. For letting her do what she’d done.

She struggled to fight against the bud of hope that had grown inside her. The odd little boy-god and the wolf had saved her when she thought she was dead. She should be dead right now. Perhaps the gods were real after all, and not evil.

The girl got some sleep once she finally got used to Socks’ speed and convinced herself she wasn’t going to fall off. Dirt took the liberty of tapping her with his foot any time she started having a nightmare. She slept for well over an hour, which was rather impressive considering the circumstances.

There was less day left than they thought, since the sun raced across the sky much faster in winter than it did in summer. Twilight came before they’d reached their destination, requiring them to stop near a small hillock, which was the only shelter they could see, such as it was. Perhaps they should have stopped at the trees they’d passed a half hour ago, but it was too late now.

Biandina was feeling quite a bit better, and once they let her stand up, she poked at her wounds in amazement to find them closed. Still sore inside and out, but the bleeding was done with and she could move around.

Her good health gave her a bit of spark, brightening her eyes. She gestured at the snow, trying to convey that Dirt and Socks should make a shelter like she had in mind, which was a round circular embankment, tall enough to keep the worst of the wind off them.

They obliged, piling up snow in a ring tall enough for Socks to lay inside of and not be seen. It took an absurd amount of snow, but there was plenty to work with.

After that, they dug through the snow to pull up grass to sit on, which Dirt wished he’d thought of last night. Biandina kept wincing and hissing every time she bent over, so Dirt made her stop and just watch. It didn’t take long to gather enough, especially with Socks helping. The grass under the snow here was long and sturdy and thick and reminded him of the grain that grew around Ogena. They pulled up more than they needed and turned their little snow-bowl into another nest.

Miraculously, it ended up exactly like Biandina envisioned, which made her quite proud of herself. She gave Dirt a nervous hug and accepted Dirt’s invitation to pat Socks on the snout. Socks somehow managed to restrain himself from huffing and startling her, but only barely. He’d been tempted.

Socks curled up in the shelter, and Dirt and Biandina crawled in afterward to make themselves comfortable against his fur. The grass was much better than sitting on the bare snow, and once Dirt summoned a few embers, the shelter held in a surprising amount of warmth. The cold withdrew leaving only a pleasant hint of frost on his breath, and all the rest of him was finally warm.

Biandina did a lot of squirming as she tried to find a position that didn’t put pressure on her injured insides, and Dirt was sure she fell asleep long after he and Socks did. All that digging in the snow had made him tired, and so had being cold. Being cold all day was exhausting. And now that he was warm, Dirt sank quickly into sleep, relishing it.

Once during the night, Socks gave a low growl, which woke Dirt up. Socks said, -It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.- So he did.

The night was long and they all woke long before dawn, at the earliest light. Since Dirt and Socks felt like holding still and resting in case they fell back asleep like they often did, Biandina thought she was the only one awake, and she was wide awake and staying that way. She was too scared about returning home to fall asleep again. The same faces kept swirling in her mind, the same conversations. Her thoughts cycled between that, and wondering how her wounds were healing so quickly and so well. She was still sore inside and out, but not nearly as bad as yesterday.

When Socks finally decided it was time to get up, Dirt and Biandina were surprised to find countless pawprints in the snow around the shelter, all larger than Dirt’s foot but smaller than Socks’. Each bore the claws of a predator that dug into the snow.

-They smelled the scent of human, and they smelled me, and they thought I had killed some and they could scavenge. I think they believed I was something else. Smaller. One of the little cousins, maybe. Or a dog.-

Dirt found that somewhat ludicrous, since he’d smelled both dogs and wolves through Socks’ nose, and they were nothing alike. But he was not one himself, so what did he know?

After seeing the tracks, Biandina was a lot more nervous than Dirt was, since she knew what the tracks belonged to. Her mental picture was something canine, but with a hunched torso and a short tail. They were a bit taller than adult humans and hunted in packs. She gazed around warily, watching the horizon with a fidgety agitation while Dirt melted enough snow for everyone to get a drink. Socks needed three batches.

Even after that she was still nervous, so Dirt picked up a snowball with his hands and shaped it somewhat like the beast she was picturing. He pointed at it, then at the tracks.

She nodded, curious.

Dirt put it on the ground, pointed at Socks, and then smashed it under his heel. That got a chuckle out of her, followed by a wince. Her stomach muscles still needed more time, it seemed. But it was nice to see her smile. Color was coming back to her cheeks, too.

They were not far from the settlement and saw it on the horizon shortly after full sunrise. It was a perfectly square walled town with the walls intact, but no buildings peeking up over them. It was small, too, smaller than Llovella, and the word that came to Dirt’s mind for it was ‘outpost’. A military place. A fortification where soldiers went. Dirt was sure his people had made it.

Biandina felt Socks slowing and sat up, rotating around to sit and face forward. Dirt slid down to sit right in front of her and she draped her arms over his shoulders, which eased the pressure on her guts.

A group of horsemen charged out from around the walls, and Dirt imagined the gate must be on the other side. Six men, each with spears, rode their horses hard through the deep snow, as if they thought they’d make a charge. Dirt rose to his feet and hopped up onto Socks’ head and waved, hoping to stop them before they did something that would get them killed.

-Look closer. They are not coming to attack me. They know what a wolf is,- said Socks, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Well, that got Dirt’s attention and he looked at their minds, or at least, the six closest humans. There were a few hundred more farther away. And Socks was right. They were terrified out of their minds, but intended to welcome the giant pup, of all things.

Biandina stood on wobbly feet and held her hand out to Dirt. She pleaded, “Sò chì ùn mi pudete micca capisce, ma per piacè, ùn li attaccate micca s'ellu pudete evitari.” Don’t attack them, was the gist of it. That much he could tell.

Aloud, Dirt said, “Socks won’t attack them unless they do something stupid.”

The horses stopped thirty paces away, not daring to get any closer no matter how their riders urged them forward. The men had their spears pointed up, not forward, in a way that reminded Dirt of the Duke’s palace guards. They had no armor, though, just thick furs like Biandina had on, including the tight hood around their bearded faces.

Dirt hopped down and trudged through the snow to greet them. It was only thigh-deep here, not waist deep, but that was still too deep to traverse gracefully. Once he got reasonably close for talking, he waved and said, “Hello, I’m Dirt. Nice to meet you. We brought back a person of yours.”

At this, Biandina rose from Socks’ back and sailed gracefully through the air, to the horrified gasps of the riders. Dirt saw confusion in their minds, in part because they didn’t recognize her, and in part because her torn and bloody clothing made them think Socks was returning a corpse.

But she landed gently on her feet and kept her balance after Socks let go. She slowly raised her face. She stood straight and pulled her hood back. She turned to the rider on the left and said, “Salutu, babbu.”

The man’s face hardened like ice and he slid quickly from his horse. Two steps brought him into range and he stabbed directly for her heart. She closed her eyes and didn’t flinch.

Dirt was ready, though. He already had the mana. He stepped over and grabbed the spearpoint right before it went in, bringing the spear and the man to a jolting stop. He snapped the spearhead off and threw it to the ground. “Let’s not do this, okay?” he said.

The men screamed. Their fear made them lose the last of their control over the horses and each bolted in a different direction. Four men were tossed into the snow. Those got up and ran back toward the fortress. The other rider went off in completely the wrong direction and didn’t stop.

Socks huffed in amusement. -That’s more like I was expecting. Come, little Dirt. Let us go make some friends.-