Deerskin - Robin McKinley

Lissar's eye fell on the straw that made up the puppies' bedding; or rather on the straws. She picked up a stout, hollow one, blew through it once, then stopped, sucked up a strawful of milk, held it by the pressure of her tongue over the end in her mouth, gently squeezed the puppy's jaws open again, placed the straw in his mouth, and released the stream. The puppy looked startled; several drops of milk dribbled out of the sides of his mouth, but Lissar saw him swallow. And, better yet, having swallowed, he lifted his little blind face toward the general direction the straw-and-milk had come from.

None of the puppies would suck the milky rag, but she squirted strawsful of milk down them all. Even with day-old puppies it took several squirts before Lissar was satisfied with the roundness of their small bellies. Her lips trembled with exhaustion and her tongue was sore by the end of their supper, and she'd worn out several hollow straws, but at least she had not failed her first attempt. The fed puppies were willing to lie more or less contentedly in her lap and around her knees, and Ash, having been rescued from that very dangerous puppy, had relented enough to sit down, although she would not go so far as to lie down. Her eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the puppies in case one should make threatening gestures at her again.

There was a little milk left in the bottom of the bowl, and quite a bit of it on, rather than in, the puppies, Lissar, and the surrounding straw; but there was no doubt that six little bellies were distended with the majority of it. The puppies bestirred themselves erratically to make the small vague gestures at one another that in a few weeks would be rowdy play, including growls, pounces, savage worrying, and squeals from the losers. At the moment they looked like mechanical toys whose springs were almost wound down, and since their eyes were not yet open, even the most daring of them kept losing track of what it was doing.

Lissar looked up to a small noise and saw Hela leaning over the half-door.

"There's supper for you any time you want it. I congratulate you on your empty bowl; I didn't get so far."

Lissar held up her last straw, which looked rather the worse for wear. "Hollow,"

she said; her cheek muscles were stiff, and speaking was awkward. "Mostly they swallowed instead of spitting it up." She rubbed her face. "I'm sore."

"Clever," said Hela, but something in her voice made Lissar look up at her again, and there was that expression, much like what she had seen in so many of the faces she had looked at since she came down from the mountains: something like awe, something like wistfulness, something like wariness.

The prince had not looked at her like that. She wasn't sure, as she thought about it, that she had registered with him at all; he was more interested in Ash than in her human companion. Lilac hadn't looked at her that way either. She thought, Why should I care? I need not care. I have a purpose-these people have given me a purpose-and that is all that matters. I need only be grateful that they have welcomed a stranger. "I have to hope it went into their stomachs and not their lungs-but they wouldn't suck." She gestured at the rejected rag.

She dropped her gaze to the mostly now-sleeping puppies, and smiled.

Tomorrow she would find out how to make her way back to the stables and tell Lilac what had become of her. One puppy was attempting to worry the hem of her dress. She touched its tiny blunt muzzle with a finger, and it turned its attention to her fingertip, chewing on it with soft naked gums. "They don't look anything like fleethounds," said Lissar. "You'd never know."

"They're always like that at first," said Hela. "All puppies look very much alike when they're just born, only bigger or smaller."

"It has no legs at all, or almost," said Lissar, picking up the one who was failing to make progress with her finger. She held it up, and its stubby legs waved feebly.

"And its head is square."

"In a fortnight you'll start to see the head and the legs," said Hela. "Er-haven't you raised dogs before?"

"No," said Lissar. "I've only raised Ash, and she was weaned when I got her. She looked like what she was going to be, only smaller, except for her feet."

"Ah," said Hela. "That explains how Ossin convinced you to take this job-begging your pardon-none of us who knows better will do it."

Lissar nodded, setting the doomed puppy down to huddle among its equally doomed siblings. She was beginning to wish that people would stop reminding her quite so often that she had taken on a hopeless project. "I know. But I have no other job, and-and I like dogs," realizing as she said it that it was what she had said to the prince in the receiving-hall.

Several expressions crossed Hela's face; among them was a look that said that she expected not to understand, but the final look was one of sympathy. "All the more reason not to want to do it, but we're all glad you're here, so I'll be quiet. Do you know about rubbing their bellies to make their bowels work?"

"No," said Lissar.

"Yes," said Hela, with an inscrutable glance into Lissar's face. "Mum'd do it if she was here. We've lots of blankets-the royal kennels have better laundry service than my whole village back home-I brought you some more. Make it easier for cleaning up."

"Thank you," said Lissar.

"And-er-there's a room for you upstairs, when you want it, and I-er-laid out some clothes for you, a tunic and leggings and-er-boots. If they don't fit, we'll find other ones. Ossin's staff also dresses better than most of my village. We-I-er-thought you won't want to get your ... dress dirty. That all comes with the job, the room and board and clothing."

"Thank you," said Lissar again, brushing at a milk-spot on her lap. It was still wet.

It would bead up as it dried, she knew, and brush right off. A tunic might make her less conspicuous, however, which she would prefer; perhaps it would stop some of the strange looks that came to her; perhaps Hela's natural friendliness would win out over her imposed caution.

"Your bitch has never had puppies, has she?" said Hela.

"No."

"She has that look to her," said Hela, amused; " 'what are these things? I don't care! Just take them away!'-How old is she?" There was a pause.

"I'm not sure," Lissar said at last. "I-I have trouble remembering certain things."

Hela flushed to the roots of her hair and dropped her head. "My lady, forgive me," she said in a voice very unlike the one she had used till then; and before Lissar could think of something to say in response, Hela went hastily away. Lissar could hear her quick steps down the main aisle, back toward the common-room.

When Lissar followed her a little later (having produced nothing in response to the belly-rubbing; perhaps there was a trick to it, I would not do to have succeeded at step one and failed at step two; she adamantly refused to let this happen, even if she did not yet see, straight away, what to do about it), conversation stopped as soon as she appeared, barefoot and silent, in the doorway. Yet she had heard what they were discussing as she walked past the heaps of sleeping dogs, for whom she must already bear the correct smell of a fellow pack-member, for none challenged her or Ash. The common-room discussion was of a recent hunt, during which one dog had done particularly well; nothing, Lissar thought, that they should have cared about her, or anyone, overhearing, nor anything that, in a collection of dog people, should have broken off upon the entry of another person.

Jobe stood up and served her a bowl of stew, and set another one down on the floor for Ash. Lissar never quite got over her amazement at how swiftly and delicately Ash could inhale large amounts of food; it was like a magic trick, the mystic word is spoken, the hand gesture performed and presto! the food disappears, without a crumb or speck left behind. Ash looked up hopefully at the bowl in Lissar's hands.