Ellen Datlow - The Beastly Bride

“Uhhhhh! Rat!” a voice bellowed, the sound of thunder. An enormous shoe swung toward her with the slow-fast speed of a pendulum.

Instincts took over. And she flipped with a twist, shooting into the safety of darkness behind the refrigeration unit.

Masako could smell something clean and fresh. It was coming from the small hole in the wall. She shot through as a foot dropped downward, just missing her tail by a hair’s width.

Hair’s width, she thought in one part of her mind. The strands of black on the floor weren’t lengths of yarn; they were human hair.

She had become so very small.

She slowed her headlong plunge and came to a stop. She sniffed and sniffed in the darkness, her whiskers bobbing.

A most marvelous breeze stroked each and every whisker; she could scarcely bear the pleasure. Like when she was a small child and her mother scratched her back for her with long slow strokes. except that the delicious sensation ran along the length of each and every one of her strands of hair.

And the smells. She could smell everything ! Each scent was as precise and individual as snowflakes. Wet mud, loamy and rich. She could virtually taste the acid in the soil, as sour as grapefruit. The spiciness of pine and cedar, sweet and sharp. The nuanced flavor of rain. A banquet of complex and compelling scents—

And a rat.

He was middle-aged, with his own signature scent.

He did not reek with testosterone and aggression. He was tired. But not exhausted. He’d eaten a Mossburger with rice in the past two hours. No potato fries. He had two sisters and one older brother. His father was dead. She could smell-taste all his details from the tiny droplets of urine markings he’d left behind. In the minute vapors that hung in the air.

Come outside.

If it was a voice, it was without words. And if anything had been uttered, she had not heard it with her ears, but with every sense of her body.

She had been turned into a rat.

Delayed reaction set in, and she began to shiver. She crouched low, pulling her legs beneath her body, curling her tail around her. A rounded hump of fear.

Her tail. She clutched it with her front paws. It felt cool in the furrowed heat of her ratty palms. It was a small comfort.

Come with me , the voice called once more. Don’t be frightened.

Masako ground her teeth. The loud noise filled her sensitive ears. She clutched her tail firmly and shook her head.

It’s nice here , the voice continued. That’s why I thought you’d like to join me. But it’s not for humans. That’s why you had to change, first. Into your true form.

Masako froze. In the silence her heart tripped faster than it had ever beat before. Her true form?

You better hurry , the voice continued. I have things to do . Masako turned her muzzle toward the enticing scent of fresh green forest. It was dizzying in its complexity and richness. A pale golden light shone through.

I’m going. The voice was receding.

Wait! Masako actually squeaked.

Startled at the foreignness of her own voice, she bolted outside.

She plunged blindly. All or nothing. It could be a trap, but it was too late. She was out in the open, terror vibrating in each and every hair on her body, running as if she were being chased by demons.

She crashed into coarse, thick fur, and they both squealed, tumbling end over end in a flurry of leaf litter and small snapping branches.

Claws clamped down upon her, and Masako realized that she was going to die now. She was probably actually dead, in fact. She had died and been reincarnated as a rat, moving down the enlightenment path, because she had brought shame and suffering to her parents, and now, after so briefly being a rat, she was going to be killed probably to be reincarnated even lower down the chain, as a slug or mollusk.

She heard a strange sound. On the highest threshold of her auditory frequency. A barely discernible chirping chortling rat laughter.

The tickling contagious sound filled her senses, and she began chirping her pleasure.

Don’t be stupid , the male rat said affectionately. Your true form is rat. Your true form will always be rat. I recognized you for who you were as soon as I saw you in the store.

Come . And the male rat turned and ran into the underbrush. It is not entirely safe here, as we might wish it to be, but it is more beautiful than we could ever speak of.

But I can barely see , Masako complained, still clinging to her memories of human sight.

See with all of your senses , her friend said. See with your entire body and spirit.

They dashed through patches of dark and light, staying close to shadow and narrow spaces. The night was thick with currents of air, water vapor dense with flavors. It was so overwhelming, and Masako soon grew tired as they scurried on, between brief moments of rest, deeper, deeper into the forest.

They scuttled for what felt like hours.

Wait. Masako could scarcely stand.

Here. Her friend passed her a pine nut, and she greedily snatched it with her mobile paws. Fingers, she thought. They were more like fingers than animal paws. But the rich oils and sugars of the pine nut overwhelmed her, and she began nibbling furiously.

Masako sighed with contentment. She could not remember the last time she felt so — so complete. And to think that she could feel this way by being a rat instead of human.

Where are we going? Masako asked.

I’m taking you to the Lady, so she can explain . The male rat’s back was turned toward her. His posture rather stiff.

What lady? Masako looked around, the surrounding blur of forest night. Explain what? For some reason she had imagined she had come to a place far from human. And it had been such a relief. Dismay began to grow inside her, as if the seeds she’d eaten were beginning to sprout.

The Lady of the Pine was the one who first came to me. The male rat’s whiskers bobbed in the sweet breeze. To tell me about my true form. She set me free. Come , he said rather urgently. Rat time moves far more quickly than human . They raced on, from shadow to shadow, following the most sheltered trail, until they finally came to a stop.

Look . Her friend actually pointed.

Masako looked up, up. She saw the dark blurry shadow of an enormous tree. The monstrous limbs grew broad and wide, bark thick and deeply ridged. Masako’s whiskers quivered. Something was missing. The tree should have smelled sweet and biting with sap and needles, but the odor was faint. She blinked nearsightedly.

The branches were practically bare.

Only the lowest branches retained their needles. The upper branches of the tree were already dead. A violent storm would likely snap the tree in half. Something gray ringed the torso of the enormous, dying tree. Masako could not make out what it was.

Lady , her friend called out. Lady of the Pine. I have found another .

Masako began to shiver. Another what?

A pale figure seemed to slip out from the trunk of the tree. Her long hair was pale and bright, the color of moonlight. Her face was young and worn with age. Her dress made of the thinnest silk, woven lovingly by the multitude of spiders she housed in her ample branches. Masako breathed with wonder. The Lady was so very lovely. She felt coarse and common before her. She wrapped her tail tightly around her body and quivered with self-consciousness.

The Lady slowly swept her gaze about until she caught sight of the small creatures in the deep moss. She crouched down with a groan, as if carrying an unbearable weight.