Robert Charrette - Find your own truth

With the first whiff of the local air, she felt better. The Salish-Shidhe breeze was full of the good scents of a forest much more pleasant than the sterile, machine-purified air of the aircraft.

Sam and the woman stepped forward to greet her, but the razorguy hung back, watchful. When Janice saw the elf with her mundane eyes, she knew why the woman's aura had seemed familiar. This was the same elf who had helped Sam kill Dan Shiroi. Janice didn't give Sam a chance to even say hello. "Still hanging with the same armful, I see. You two serious, or are you just rubbing my muzzle in it?"

Sam stopped, open-mouthed. The elf answered for him.

"My name is Hart, Janice. No one here means to offend you."

"I know who you are. And you call me Shiroi, elf." "That was the wendigo's name," Hart said. Janice showed her teeth. "I'm a wendigo." The elf shut up. She looked offended and maybe a bit nervous. Good. Janice hoped she made the elf real nervous.

"So, Mr. Big Time Shaman, where's your ritual team? Are they lost, or are you? This don't look like a volcano."

Sam looked annoyed. That pleased her. Why should this be easy on anyone?

"We're not doing the ritual tonight," he said. "Drek!" Didn't he understand what he was doing by hauling her down here? She had hoped that if she humored him, he'd be satisfied and leave her alone. She had thought she could hold out for a day or two, long enough for him to see the foolishness of his plan and for her to get back to the fastness before the hunger became overpowering. "Why not?"

"I didn't want to take the chance that something would go wrong slipping you into Council lands. The ritual would be ruined if some Council trackers stumbled into the middle of it. Besides, the moon will be full two nights from now, and the magic will be more potent if the ritual is performed then. It'll also give you some time to learn your part.''

How many more little surprises was he going to spring? "You didn't say I had to do anything."

"Transformation magic is more powerful if the subject is willing and involved."

She heard herself growl and realized that no longer was her annoyance feigned. "Do I have to believe it will work?"

"No. But it would help."

She sat down on the loam. This wasn't working out as she had thought. But then, when had anything ever gone right? When Dan was taking care of her, was when. That had been the only time she had been really happy since before her parents had died. Everything in between had been hollow, almost as hollow as her life now.

From the corner of her eye she could see Sam fretting, probably trying to decide how long to let her stew. After a few minutes, Hart poked him in the ribs. They exchanged a glance, and he nodded and addressed her.

"Janice, I realize that it wasn't easy for you to come.

The trip must have been uncomfortable, but the plane was the best we could manage. You're tired." He placed a satchel by her side. "When you're rested, take a look at the chips in the reader. They'll explain some of the fine points of the ritual. Your part is highlighted. It's not big, but it's important. I'd go over it with you now, but there are still a few more things to be taken care of in the plex. We've got to get back there."

The plex? She never wanted to see another metro-plex. They were dirty and smelly, but most of all they were crowded with people. All those stinking, noisy people. All that meat. No, she remonstrated with herself. That's not the way to think. "You said no cities," she snapped.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I meant Hart and me. You'll stay here with Ghost, and he'll take you to the rendezvous point on the lower slopes of Mount Rainier. We'll meet again in two days just after sundown. Okay?"

What choice did she have? "You didn't leave room in your plan for me to object." "I'll take that as a yes."

Sam reached out to touch her. He was hesitant, as though undecided whether to stroke her like a furry pet, pat her like a little sister, or just lay a reassuring hand on her. In the end, he tried a little of all three. Most likely he meant to be affectionate, but he rumpled her fur the wrong way.. Worse, she felt the trembling of his hand and saw the fear in his eyes. He showed some courage, at least. His woman didn't dare come near enough to touch. X3od, who was he to call himself family, then act like all the other hateful norms?

She didn't watch them climb into the aircraft, but then she looked up in time to see them appear in the cockpit. Sam settled into the pilot's couch. As he went through the motions the aircraft engines revved, twirling the props faster and faster until the low-slung body lifted from the field. Then the plane cleared the trees, the nacelles rotating to bring the props down for horizontal flight. The craft disappeared into the night, its sound fading as it drew further away. When had Sam learned to fly? Their departure left her alone with the razorguy Sam had called Ghost. He was staring at her while she observed him covertly. To judge from his looks and his dress, he was an Indian. It didn't surprise her that he seemed reluctant to give up his place near the trees. For generations out of mind, Indians had been telling tall tales of the wendigo. He probably believed them all.

He'd been left to take care of her. As if she needed a norm, even an enhanced one, for a babysitter. She probably could move through the forest better than he could. She was stronger, likely faster, and had certain supernormal advantages that not even the best cyber-ware could reproduce. What good was he, except as a local guide? Most likely he was supposed to keep her from eating any people she happened upon. Did Sam really think one razorguy could stop her?

The clearing had long since settled back into its nightly cycle of sound and activity before he moved. Leaving his spot near the tree he crossed the grass-silently, so silently that his steps did not disturb the raccoon come to investigate the satchel Sam had left. He squatted a half-dozen meters away. Did he know how well she could see him? "I'm not exactly contagious, you know." Her voice startled the raccoon, who fled. The razorguy showed no reaction save to rise and move closer. Two meters. Just beyond the distance she could reach without getting up. The razorguy had gauged her length of arm well. He remained silent.

"Nothing to say?" Nothing was what he said. She repeated her question in Japanese and Spanish, with no better result. This new irritation was just one more added to the experience of her trip. "Can you even talk?"

Unspeaking, he stared at her. She decided she'd seen enough of him and turned her head away. Minutes passed and the raccoon approached again, dithering over whether to approach and make another attempt to investigate the intriguing satchel. It had just made up its mind when the Indian spoke and sent it scurrying off again.

"You are a shaman?"

Startled herself by his sudden speech, she answered simply and honestly. "Yes."

He was quiet for more minutes. When he spoke again, she was ready for the abruptness but not the content of his question.

"Is it true you follow Wolf?" "Oh, you mean is Wolf my totem?" He nodded. Well, two could play at the laconic game. "Yes," she said.

Ghost grunted and stood up. "It's a long way to Rainier. Sam said we have only the night for traveling. We should start." "What, no vehicle?" "Too conspicuous." "And that plane wasn't?"

"A bribe to an air traffic controller makes it easy for a plane not to appear on a radar screen." "What about the noise?"

"People hear a plane in the night, they think nothing of it. It's in the sky, far away. A car or bike is much nearer and might bring unwelcome visitors. People pay attention. Wouldn't want to drive through the forest, though, even during the day. This terrain will turn good machines into spare parts." "So we walk."