Charles de Lint - Forests of the Heart

Hunter wanted to keep it light. That way it wouldn’t feel as weird as it was. It would stop him from brooding about what he’d done already, what he might have to do when they caught up with this thing they were chasing. He glanced ahead to catch Aunt Nancy giving them a look. Her eyes were so dark, her features stoic; she was impossible to read. He thought she might say something again about how they should be taking things seriously, but then she smiled. Turning her head forward again, she continued to lead them on.

“So,” el lobo said. “Do you think they remember that you’re supposed to be friends?”

“No lo se,” Bettina told him. I don’t know.

Because it was impossible to say. These cadejos weren’t the whimsical creatures she’d taken to heart all those years ago. In their place had come strangers to answer her call, dark-eyed, aloof, and dangerous. They neither spoke nor sang and that silence frightened Bettina more than anything. There was no happy dancing, little cloven hooves keeping time as they clicked and clacked on the stones. No childlike songs. These cadejos approached on stiff legs, the hackles of their brightly coloured fur lifted at the back of their necks and down along their spine.

“But can we blame them for their anger?” she added. “Perhaps I was never such a good friend to them. Does a true friend shut you out of their life the way I did with them?”

“I suppose not,” her wolf said.

He moved closer to her, standing in such a way that should the dogs attack, he could easily step forward to protect her. But Bettina put a hand on his shoulder and gently moved him to one side.

“We’re not here to fight,” she said. “But to ask forgiveness.” She turned her attention back to the little rainbow dogs. “¿Meperdona?” she asked of them. Will you forgive me?

Still they remained silent, dark gazes watching them with the singular intent of hunters. She saw there were seven of them. Qué extraño. How odd, she thought, that she should be able to number them like this. They’d never stayed still for long enough before for her to get an accurate count, always dancing, gamboling, never all of them quite in her line of sight at the same time. Now they sat in a half-circle, the colors of their pelts making a peculiar, furry rainbow against the desert soil—like one that had been drawn by a child who had her own idea as to how the bands of colors should be ordered.

“You know I meant you no harm,” she said. “But my sorrow was so great. When the clown dog came and led Abuela away…”

“No somos la Maravilla,” one of them finally said.

Its voice gave away nothing of what it was feeling, but at least they had spoken, Bettina thought. At least they were willing to communicate. She knelt on the ground to bring herself closer to the level of their heads. Beside her, el lobo followed suit, sitting on his heels.

“I know, I know,” Bettina said. “Of course you’re not. But I felt betrayed by spirit dogs.”

“Se traicionamos.” We were betrayed.

“Sí. I understand that now.”

She waited for them to go on, but they fell back to their silent watching.

“What can I do to make amends?” Bettina asked.

Still they gave back silence.

“Por favor,” she said. “Lo imploro. Hable a mi.” Speak to me.

Finally one of them blinked.

“Why should we trust you?” it asked.

“You only want us to kill monsters,” another said.

“You think we are monsters.”

“No soraos monstruos.”

“Soraos los cadejos.”

“Infeliz.” Unhappy.

“No deseado.” Unwanted.

“Los homeless.”

Bettina thought her heart would break. They were still so serious and grave, so unlike the happy creatures she’d known. She could hear the pain in their voices and to know that she was the one who had put that pain there, that she had stolen away their joy, was almost too much for her to bear.

“I can’t make you trust me,” she said. “How could I? I can only ask you to give me another chance to prove myself true.”

Los cadejos looked at each other, as though communicating silently.

“We see you are sincere,” one of them finally said.

“Or think you are sincere.”

“So we are willing to forgive you.”

“But there is a cost.”

Bettina refused to look at her wolf. She knew what he was thinking, but it didn’t matter.

“What will be the cost?” she asked.

“You must give up that which you hold most dear.”

“For as long as you gave us up.”

“By this you will earn our trust.”

Bettina looked at them for a long moment, then slowly shook her head.

“I can’t do it again,” she said.

Los cadejos cocked their heads.

“¿Qué significa? “ one of them asked.

“Don’t you see?” she told them. “During all that time… Abuela, Papa, you… all were lost to me. How can you ask me to do so again?”

“We were part of what you held dearest?”

“Sí.”

“Then why did you abandon us?”

“I did not know I was doing so until you were gone. And then… then… you must understand. The coming of the clown dog marked the beginning of all my losses. It made me angry and afraid of spirit dogs.”

“I can vouch for that,” her wolf said.

Los cadejos looked his way.

“Please,” Bettina said to him. “This is between us.” She returned her attention to the half-circle of rainbow-colored dogs that sat before her. “I was wrong. But I did not send you away. You left on your own. What I did wrong was not calling you back to me until now.”

“We must think on this,” one of los cadejos said after they had all looked at each other again.

“Gracias.”

“We promise nothing.”

“I understand.”

“We are not here to hunt monsters for you.”

“Sí, “Bettina said. “I understand. I do not ask this of you.”

The little dogs rose then and returned the way they’d come, disappearing among the prickly pear. Bettina sighed. Then why are you here? she had wanted to ask them. Why did you ever choose me in the first place? Surely they could make a home for themselves anywhere.

“Well, that was productive,” el lobo said.

Bettina turned to look at him, disappointed.

“How could I ask anything of them but forgiveness?” she said.

He shrugged. “You said it yourself. You didn’t send them away. Your only crime was in not calling them back to you when they left.”

“It seems to me more complicated than that.”

“Perhaps. But now we’re back where we started. There’s a monster loose and we have no way to find it. Unless…” He gave Bettina a thoughtful look.

“Unless what?” she asked, certain she wasn’t going to like whatever it was.

“You call the Glasduine to us,” he said. “The way you called the little dogs.”

“I have nothing in common with that monster.”

“No. But you knew the pup.”

“Barely.”

“And,” her wolf went on, “if he had even an ounce of manhood in him, he would have found you attractive.”

Bettina blushed. “Oh, please…”

“But don’t you see? It’s a connection. I’ll wager that if you call to it, the Glasduine will come.”

“And then? “she asked.

“We will deal with it as we must.”

He sounded far more confident than he could be, Bettina thought. But she knew they had no other choice than to try. It was that, or abandon the chase and then whatever harm the Glasduine did, they would have to accept some responsibility for it, since they hadn’t tried to stop it.