The Land of Broken Roads

Socks gave him a thorough licking to make sure all of him was clean, which left the familiar film of dry saliva all over him. After that, he followed Biandina’s family out to where they lived, about halfway through the mass of tents toward the wall.

They lived like everyone else in their tribe: in an unstable tent supported by shaved strips of bone tied together to make longer poles. Wood truly did seem scarce, which Dirt should have expected after seeing so much flat landscape. It wasn’t like there was none at all; just that things he expected to be wooden often weren’t.

The tent was tall enough for the adults to walk in without ducking, and the flap that served as a door was tied to the interior ceiling. The covering that made up the tent was a mixture of leather and cloth, but striped and deliberate instead of patchy and random, giving it at least that much appearance of civilization. Patterns of green, red, and white colored all of it, so at least it wasn’t plain.

Socks chose to rest nearby and chat with the swarm of curious onlookers rather than stand and peek in through the light-holes in the tent roof, so with nothing else to sort out, Dirt removed his shoes, set them near the pile, and was the last to enter.

It was almost dark inside, so the first thing he did was snap his fingers to make a light, which he made hover in the center, near the top. He also summoned another couple embers to warm the tent up quicker.

The inside felt roomier and more comfortable than he expected. A rich carpet of furs covered the entirety of the stone floor, several layers deep and soft. Woven baskets hung by coarse threads tied to the frame and contained whatever a family like this kept handy. Food, extra clothing, and tools. Stuff like that, judging by what Dirt could see from this angle. Half of the baskets were up out of his reach, and since at least four of the children were younger than him, that made sense. They probably put the oil up there, or the knives.

The children were much better behaved than a den full of pups. They sat calmly instead of running around and fighting and causing chaos like he’d expected. There was no room next to Biandina, since her siblings sat protectively close to her, and the littlest one climbed into her lap. Dirt sat near the boy who looked closest to his own age. They sat somewhat in a circle, and it looked like the room had been arranged that way. Everyone had their own spot with their own bedding, although it looked like most of it was shared. As it should be, especially in winter.

Eight children, one infant, and two adults wore varied expressions, either staring at Dirt, peering up at his magical light, or watching the magical embers lazily float around and warm up the tent. Even with so much ventilation, the temperature was quickly becoming bearable.

Dirt settled in and looked around, wondering what was going to happen next. No one said anything, so he spoke first. “I guess you already know, but my name is Dirt. The Mother of Wolves says I’m eight years old. Socks named me Dirt because when he found me, I was covered from head to toe in dirt. Dirt means ‘dirt’ in my language. Some people laugh, but I like it. I was born in a forest of trees that go all the way up to the sky, and they’re alive and can turn into people called dryads. This is a part of one of them, named Home,” he said, holding up the arm with the brace on it. “She was the first tree I made friends with, but Socks was my first friend overall. He was the first thing I ever talked to.”

He paused, not sure what else to say, and no one jumped in to get things going. They looked at him and each other silently. The children curious and nervous, the mother stony and mad. The father scowled, but Dirt got the impression he was more conflicted than angry.

Dirt said, “I guess I can tell you stories, because Socks didn’t tell everything earlier. But first I want to hear all your names. And can you tell me something about yourself? Anything at all. I’ve spent, maybe, ten or fifteen days around humans in my whole life.”

Biandina nodded, seeming happier already. There was still tightness in her lips and posture, but the frown was gone and her eyes had lost their despair. “I’ll go first. Let’s go oldest to youngest. We had an older brother, Prosperu, but he was taken by the rucche. I’m Biandina, and I’m in my fifteenth year, and…”

She bit her lip and glanced down. She had no idea what to say about herself, poor thing, now that she was an outcast.

Her father said, “When she was a little girl, she found a snake and picked it right up, then carried it around showing everybody. It was deadly venomous, and no one dared get close enough to snatch it away from her. It caused quite a panic. We didn’t want to scare her in case she dropped it or let it bite her. She finally took it outside and put it down, and it slithered away.” He had a hint of warmth in his eyes that faded as soon as he was done speaking.

“I’m Antelmu, and I’m in my thirteenth year,” said the oldest of the boys, a muscular lad with the same build as his father, but not the beard. “I already broke my own colt. We’re not going to geld him because he’s even handsomer than his sire. His name is Boulder.”

Dirt nodded, smiling slightly. “I’d like to meet him,” he said, honestly. He had seen horses, but never really interacted with them. Socks scared them too much and Dirt had been too busy to seek them out anyway.

“I’m Lavisa and I’m in my twelfth year,” said the next girl. Her hair was darker than the rest, closer to black than the brown of the rest of the children, and she wore it pulled back tight. “I’m the best dancer in the family.”

Mother almost—almost—cracked a smile at that. She had to force it back. Dirt saw her twitch and he could tell.

“I’m Gnaziu,” said a boy with neat clothing and combed hair. “I’m in my tenth year. I made my own bow. Do you wanna see it?”

“I do. I’ve never shot one. Is there a trick to it?”

“Just show him,” said the mother, her voice flat. “Don’t shoot it in here. Don’t even pretend.”

“I know,” said the boy, fake annoyance in his voice. He stood and took a bow off a hook, which Dirt hadn’t noticed before. Now that he looked, there were several more like it, and quivers of arrows as well. This one was as long as the boy’s torso and decorated with feathers at the top and bottom. “I found the wood myself, and the bones on the end for the notching were carved from a ragnulì.”

“What’s a ragnulì?” asked Dirt.

“It’s those big dog-beasts with the arched backs,” said Gnaziu.

“Oh, Socks smelled some of those, but I didn’t see them,” said Dirt. “I like that bow. It looks great. And you know what? Your name sounds like Ignasi, who is one of the first humans I ever met. He’s a Camayan. And in my language, that name is Ignatius. That makes it a very, very old name.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked the father.

“My language is the oldest one, and every other language descended from it. I’m probably the only person who speaks it anymore,” said Dirt.

“How can you possibly know that, if you don’t know any other humans?” asked Antelmu, the 12-year-old.

Dirt grinned mischievously and said, “Let’s save the other stories until we’re done. Who’s next?”

“Me,” said a girl shyer than the others, about his same size. Maybe just a little younger, but it was hard to tell. She watched him steadily, but with clear distrust. “I’m Lisea, and I’m in my eighth year. I have a cat.”

“You have a cat?” asked Dirt, almost standing. “Can I see it?”

“She’s not here right now, but she’ll come back later,” said Lisea.

“I’ve never seen a cat, even though Socks has smelled them. The trees teased me once saying I’ll learn about cats when I’m ready. I told Socks that and now he won’t show me what they are either. It’s a little animal, right?”

The shy girl cracked a smile and didn’t say anything. After she saw Dirt’s exaggerated disappointment, she giggled.

“Your turn,” said Biandina, nodding at Eudossia, whose name he’d learned earlier.

The squirrely little girl loudly whispered, “What do I say?”

“Your name and how old you are,” replied three different children.

“I’m Eudossia and I’m in my sixth year,” she said. She clamped her mouth shut and acted shy, indicating she was done.

“She likes to sing, especially at night when I’m trying to sleep,” said Lavisa, the 11-year-old girl.

Everyone ignored that.

“This is Miliu. He’s in his sixth year. Say hello, Miliu,” said the father.

“Hello,” said the little boy. “How come you’re naked?”

The whole family reacted, some shifting nervously, others grinning. One girl shooshed the little boy like he’d done something improper. Dirt said, “The old people said I had to burn my clothes and I don’t have any more with me. But I’m used to it. I spent most of my life like this.”

The boy he was sitting next to, Gnaziu, said, “Do you want to borrow something? Nobody goes naked inside the walls.”

Dirt nodded. “If you have anything, sure. I’ll give it back before I leave, unless I think of something good to trade for it.” Judging from how they lived, Dirt didn’t think they had much to spare. Lisea, the next youngest girl, would probably be wearing anything Gnaziu grew out of.

Gnaziu stood up and dug under the skins for a bundle of cloth, all rolled up. It was a thick woolen pair of pants, much like he had on now, except those were baggy and rolled up on the cuffs for him to grow into. The ones Dirt stood and put on was a bit tight, even though Dirt was a bit smaller. He immediately felt warmer, and when Gnaziu handed him a long woolen shirt to go with it, he wondered if he should make one of his embers wink out.

“What kind of stuff would you want to trade for this?” Dirt asked, adjusting the shirt. It was a little tight as well, but it would do for now. If it had been warmer, he might have declined.

Gnaziu said, “Um, wood, or meat, or good bones. Arrows. Anything silver. Or other clothes, maybe.”

The father said, “Those are too small for you. If you think of anything to trade, we’ll find you bigger ones.”

The youngest boy climbed off Biandina’s lap and started pulling off his long woolen gown. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said, trying to prevent him. The child laughed and struggled to get away.

“That is Oraziu,” said the father, gesturing at squirming, noisy boy. “He’s in his fourth year, but only barely.”

“He’s cute,” said Dirt.

Little Oraziu shrieked in dismay and said “No! My do it!” as he squirmed and tried to get free of Biandina’s interference. Finally, she let him go and he got his gown almost off, up around his head, before one of the other girls grabbed him. Dirt chose not to comment, preferring instead to watch the battle and see who ended up winning.

“What’s the infant’s name? Is it a boy or a girl?”

“It’s a girl, and we haven’t named her yet,” said the father.

“Just don’t name her Prisca,” said Dirt, wishing Socks was around to share in the joke. Judging from the shrieks and laughter he heard outside, the pup was enjoying himself.

“I know of a Priscilla, but no Priscas,” said the father. “What’s a Prisca?”

“She was a magical skeleton who tried to kill me,” said Dirt. Every member of the family glanced at Dirt, wondering if they’d heard correctly. Except for little Oraziu, who struggled his way free again and ran to the other side of the tent, where he resumed pulling off his gown with a look of pure enjoyment on his chubby face.

-Dirt, there is a crying infant nearby and it is his mouth that hurts. Go see if you can help him,- said Socks, just to him.

He looked again at the minds nearby, picking out the children easily. Adult minds had more thoughts, but children had more light in them, and Dirt’s best guess was that it was their spirits waiting for their brains to grow in. The infants were the clearest, just impressions, a single sight or smell or touch at a time, although their emotions were just as vivid as anyone else’s.

One infant was sleeping, and that must be the girl in the tent. Another was resting and tasting milk, so that wasn’t the one Socks meant. Dirt looked around until he found it—a tiny boy who was screaming and thinking of nothing but inescapable pain, coming from his tongue.

Dirt got up and said, “I’ll be right back. Socks found a crying baby he wants me to go check on.”

“I’ll come with,” said Gnaziu.

“Me too,” said Biandina.

“And me,” said Antelmu, the oldest boy. Once that was declared, all five of the others wanted to come, except for Orazui, who was now moaning about being unable to get his gown up over his head. It was stuck around his neck, and he fell over.

Dirt led the procession out to where Socks was, only to find about fifty children of all ages crowding around him. Some were petting him, others trying to climb up, and a handful more were laughing and shrieking at the top of their lungs as Socks held them all a few feet off the ground. Dirt sent the pup a puff of amusement and affection, then asked, “I don’t hear it. Which way?”

Socks gave him the direction and he squeezed first through the crowd, then between the tents and shacks until he heard it himself. The poor baby’s cries were ragged and weary and Dirt hurried as fast as he could go without using mana, so the others could keep up.

He slid into the tent without asking first and found a lonely mother with tears streaming down her face, holding her offspring and rocking, at a total loss of what to do.

“Hello,” said Dirt. “Can I see him?” In came the rest of the children.

“Who are you?” she asked. “What do you want?”

“I’m Dirt. And I want to look at his mouth,” said Dirt. He stepped over as politely as he could and looked in. It was a normal baby mouth, with four handsome little teeth.

“Whose child are you? Did someone send you? I could use some water, if you want to help,” said the mother. She was young, now that Dirt got a good look at her. This was probably her first.

Dirt said, “I guess you missed all the excitement. I came with the wolf.”

Then, instead of waiting for her to say anything else, Dirt lifted the tiny boy’s tongue up with a finger and examined it. Right away he saw the problem. A briar. The little one had a small briar under his tongue. Dirt pulled it out and the baby stopped crying almost immediately.

Dirt held it up and showed the mother, whose eyes widened in surprise. “That was all? He’s been crying all day!”

He checked all the adult minds until he found hers, which only took a moment. She was thinking over and over, “I’m such a terrible mother, why didn’t I check?” Things like that. She was relieved and yet, at the same time, somehow felt even worse.

“You’re not a terrible mother,” said Dirt, patting her on the head. “I bet you won’t even eat him if he’s weak. Do you want to keep the briar?”

“What? No, please get it out of my tent. Who are you again?”

“I’m Dirt. Maybe I’ll come visit you later. You probably both need a nap,” he said. He handed Lisea the briar, since she was the closest, and stepped back out.

He ran all the way back to Socks, quite pleased with everything, and when he got there, the pup had a new task for him. There was a youth who had dropped an arrowhead into a crack between the paving stones and couldn’t get it out. Socks had heard the scratching of his attempts to fish it out.

Dirt found him and peered down into the crack, then simply yanked the arrowhead out with his mind and snatched it from the air, then handed it to the started young man. “Are there any more, or just that one?” Dirt asked.

“Just that one. Who…?” The young man sat up, confused.

Dirt turned to Biandina and said, “I bet no one is going to recognize me without my old clothes. I look like one of you now, except my hair is darker than average.”

“You really don’t look like one of us,” she said. But Dirt just smiled and made his way back to Socks, parade of children following behind him.

Socks sent him on all sorts of errands after that, which Dirt thoroughly enjoyed. He helped a very surprised man lift a heavy barrel back onto a shelf. A child Oraziu’s age was fighting her parents, who wanted her to take a nap because she was sick and had slept poorly, and they were all exhausted. Dirt pushed her mind to sleep very, very gently.

He found a tent with an old couple, older than the elders, who were shivering and unable to keep warm. With his knife, Dirt scrawled a heating sigil into the stone beneath their furs and filled it with mana, enough to last a day or two. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have to be. No one but him could refill it anyway.

Biandina and her siblings were quite impressed by all of it, and they followed with eager eyes, taking in miracle after miracle. Dirt could tell they were warming up to him. Standing a bit closer, smiling more, things like that.

They even let him feed the horses, and Gnaziu’s horse was indeed quite handsome, a shiny brown color that Dirt honestly couldn’t tell apart from any others. He had no idea what he was looking at, but Gnaziu was quite proud, so that was enough for Dirt.

After running out of helpful things to do, Dirt made his way back to Socks. He sat under the pup’s neck, next to his paw. The crowd of children were still taking turns being lifted up, except now they all wanted to go high enough to touch the netting. The parents were less enthused about it, with many of them standing around to watch, but no one had been hurt yet, and no one wanted to offend the giant wolf.

-I think every human den needs a Dirt,- said Socks. -You are very helpful. But they cannot have you. You are mine. They’ll have to find their own.­-

Dirt sent him a puff of amusement. “Too bad I don’t have a good way to teach them any magic. I wonder if we should find one child, just one, and you could open his mind like you did to me, so he can read thoughts.”

-It would not be hard, but that would only be helpful sometimes.-

“And I’m still not sure how people would react. No one knows I can do it. I don’t know if it would make them afraid, or glad,” said Dirt.

-Maybe we could ask the elders. We wouldn’t have to tell anyone else,- said Socks.

“That’s not a bad idea. Do you know where they are?”

Socks sent Dirt a mental image of ghost sight, just a portion, that showed the two elders still back in the Aedes, alone with each other. It looked like they were deep in conversation. Dirt got up and told Biandina and her siblings, “Stay here with Socks for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.