Len Gilbert - The Furred Reich

“Nowhere, really,” Hans said, lighting a match and kindling a fire. The wolf shook its head, as if Hans had given him a wrong answer.

“Do you have anything to eat…”

Hans opened up his mess tin. There wasn’t much left in there. He reached in and broke off a small slab of the dried meat from Deltia.

“It’s not much, but—” Hans leaned over slowly to give him a slab.

The wolf took a small, careful bite of it, then sat back and stared at the human. The fire danced upwards and illuminated both of their faces.

“A human escaping this far west. You must have been through hell,” the wolf finally said.

“Yeah. I have.”

“Must have come a long way, too…” the wolf mused.

“You could say that,” Hans smiled.

“Yes, well. You’d better keep going. They’ll be here soon enough.”

“I see…”

Who was ‘they?’ Hans didn’t want to show he was ignorant on this, lest the wolf begin to wonder.

“Actually. I was hoping to stay here.”

“You can’t. Grimeskins will be here soon. They chased me down the river.”

So he was talking about the ‘Grimeskins.’ They didn’t sound very friendly.

“Where should I go, you think?”

“Flee straight west. To the edge of the world if you have to. The Grimeskins will kill you in no time,” the young wolf winced in pain as he spoke.

“That where you’re going?”

He shook his head.

“Me? No. I’m going to the forest wolves. I’ll fight and die there, that’s all.”

“What if I went to the forest wolves, too?”

Kasha raised an eyebrow at the human, as if Hans had dropped in from another planet. Deciding to quickly change the subject before Kasha became yet more suspicious, Hans stretched and got up from his seat.

“If you don’t mind I’m going to sleep,” Hans said. “You should stay here. You’re in no shape to run.”

“…I know…” he sighed.

“Oh, and sorry. What was your name again?”

“You may call me Kasha,” the wolf answered.

Hex bit his lip as he departed the reception room. He’d had enough of the arrogant emperor Jiroft and his slights. One way or another Jiroft would regret the tone he used today. The monsters were coming to depose Jiroft soon enough. Good riddance.

Xusa, the capital of Ahuran, was just as it looked when Hex was much younger. Beyond the manicured green sprawl of the palace grounds, columns of tall lime-rock buildings lined the wide streets like giant offerings. From a distance, orchards and fields struggled in the semi-arid soil until a wall of white-capped mountains stopped everything.

An ox-drawn cart sat outside Hex’s residence early that morning.

“This cart headed to Port Jasra?”

An avian face whipped around at the sound of Hex’s voice.

“Woah! That really you, Hex?”

“It is, but I don’t recognize you.”

“Oh I knew you looked familiar! Last time you was here I took you and your family down to Giraz and the Gulf. I bet you don’t even remember this face.”

“I don’t, sorry, but I do remember that trip fondly.”

“Don’t you remember that time you fell asleep at the table and your face fell into the bean soup?”

“Oh, uh. You were there for that?”

“Sure was,” the avian laughed. “Name’s Qok. Nice to see you all grown up, though I wish it were under better terms.”

“How’d you manage to come so far in all this chaos?” Qok asked.

“Had some help all along the way. One thing I’ve learned is that there are a lot of good people out there. Even during hard times like these.”

The oxcart kicked off and shuffled along the main streets. Families and other travelers hopped aboard the cart. At some point Qok picked up some empty wooden casks which carried the distinct aroma of Berrywine.

By sunrise they were in the outskirts of Xusa, headed south and west toward the cooler vineyard country. Hex kicked his shoes up and relaxed as the sun rose. There was still a very long way to go, but this part of the journey would be safe and smooth. A nice change of pace from the previous weeks.

The slow, bumpy ride took them through a valley of wheat fields, and he could sometimes hear the grasses blowing against each other in the wind. He saw farmers with brimmed hats wading through the fields to collect the harvest before the frosts arrived. That day the cart stopped only twice, and sleep came easier than usual when the sky got dark. Most of the passengers, children included, had fallen asleep. By sunrise the landscape had changed again. Hex saw tiny vineyards passing by them, and felt the cool, mild air on his fur.

That afternoon they came to a scheduled stop. Hex recognized the town as Zarekord, a mishmash of narrow streets that spilled out past an ancient city wall into the cool meadows and orchards. Most of the other passengers disembarked in the town and made their ways home. Hex and Qok stayed at a travelers’ house at the edge of a Berrywine vineyard.

“Ya know I thought you would stay with us in Xusa. It’s much safer here, you know.” Qok said to him as they both got off the cart and put the oxen into a barn.

“I know. But. My younger brother lives in a safe location further west. I’m going to collect him.”

“Oh…” the old bird mused.

“Is that why you’re doing down to—”

“Yes. And its a ways even after that.”

“Where? Deltia?”

“No it’s, well, I can’t say where it is but it’s not Deltia.”

“I see. Well. If I can help you at all beyond Jasra just let me know.”

“I appreciate your help, Qok.”

“Kasha?”

A wet wind blew over Hans’ tent. He woke up and looked around to see that Kasha was gone. Gusts of wind were broken only by the pines. An overcast sky greeted the Landser when he stepped out of his tent and folded it up. Kasha must have been in quite a rush to get away from the ‘Grimeskins,’ whatever those were. If Kasha was right, then this region was no place to call home.

In silence he marched, or just trudged, his way out of Balaton woods and back to the rabbit huts which squeezed together on the glade. No one was outside today, and the door was shut.

Hans stopped for a moment but then gave the door a soft knock. There was no answer, so he knocked once more.

“Oh, who is it?”

The old woman’s familiar voice barked out.

“Ah, it’s just me. Hans.”

The elderly lapine opened the door and scowled at him.

“What is it this time?”

“Um. May I come in? It’s quite cold today.”

“Yes, yes. So’d you see any wolves?”

Hans entered and sat down on the wooden floor. The boy again emerged from the room, staring at Hans, but this time the young lapine came out when he saw the human.

“In fact I did speak to one. I found him down by the river. He was trying to flee because some army is coming this way. Called them ‘Grimeskins.’”

“Hmm. So why did you come back?”

“To warn you, of course. The wolf told me these Grimeskins do terrible things. He says they’re coming this way and will be here soon.”

“Hmm. Well, let them come.”

“What—why?”

“We’ve had invaders before. We’ll have them again. They’ll come, they’ll go, we’ll stay. Though you should probably leave. There’s no space you if these ‘Grimeskins’ come.”

He sat there looked up at the old lady. She was right, of course. Hans needed to go back west to find a home. The lapines were nice enough to help him, so the least he could do was warn them.

“Here.” The woman got up, opened a cupboard and gave Hans a scrolled parchment.

“I can tell you’re one of the travelers from the other world. We won’t be needing this.”