Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 5
5
The 'Town Hall' (as Rufio had called it) was a grand building made of stone. Nilia estimated it was probably big enough to fit at least three dozen of the tents back home, but even so, it was absolutely packed. The whispers of a thousand nervous Foxes bounced from wall to wall, echoing back and forth among the wooden benches. Sunlight streamed in from the tall, rectangular openings in the eastern side, turning every piece of dust into a tiny floating star.
Getting here had been quite a challenge. The moment they stepped outside they were practically engulfed by the crowd. Rufio had tried to gently persuade them to make way, but evidently Ander's two-month stay had been long enough for the Foxes to completely discard their fear of Wolves. One of them actually came up and touched her tail, an act that resulted in a swift kick to the face and a bloody nose. Ander had scolded her for that, but at least the Foxes gave her enough room to breathe afterwards. Once they realized Rufio was leading them to the town hall, a sort of impromptu emergency meeting was called. They had banged on a big metal instrument out front called a 'bell' (slightly annoying, but infinitely better than the constant clacking of hollow skulls back home) and Foxes came streaming in from all directions. It just sort of snowballed from there. Now they were all crammed together in this single building, with Foxes taking up every inch of available space. Even the aisle down the middle was filling up. The Fox who had grabbed her tail was standing by the wall with his head tilted back and a bloody rag held to his face, telling another Fox who looked exactly like him how he'd never wash his nose again for as long as he lived. The second Fox rolled his eyes and called him an idiot, a sentiment Nilia agreed with wholeheartedly.
Nilia frowned. She was trying very hard not to be distracted, but these Foxes... there was something strange about them. She wasn't thinking of the odd clothes or the giant buildings, but the Foxes themselves. When one of them showed up among her people, their first reaction had been to cage her and sacrifice her to the mountain. Personally, she thought the sacrificing thing was going a bit too far, but the cage was just common sense. They had no idea what they were dealing with, after all. Better safe than sorry. But what did the Foxes do when a bunch of strange Wolves suddenly appeared in their village? They gathered 'round and touched her tail and asked all sorts of stupid questions, like where she got her necklace, and if she was 'married' or not. What the hell does 'married' even mean? Come to think of it, it was the same Fox who had grabbed her tail that had asked her that...
Nilia shook her head, trying to get rid of all these distracting thoughts, but it was difficult. Everywhere she looked there was something that tried to grab her attention, something weird or out of place, something that simply didn't make sense, but mostly it was their behaviour that kept snagging her attention like a bothersome thorn. Sure, there was a feeling of unease passing through this gathering, everyone knew something bad had happened, but despite that, most of the Foxes still sounded jovial and carefree. It wasn't the kind of happiness she associated with her own people, the dangerous kind of happiness that had you constantly watching your back to make sure the source of their mirth wouldn't end up coming at the cost of your pain. It was... different. Everything here was just different.
She was beginning to understand why Ander liked it so much.
She glanced in his direction, but Ander's attention was focussed elsewhere. She followed his gaze to a pair of Foxes at the back - a male and a female, bright red and drab brown respectively. The male was quite big for a Fox, immaculate and smiling, while the vixen sitting next to him looked very nervous. She kept fiddling with her clothes, pulling them tight and wringing them out, but then she looked up and her eyes suddenly brightened. She lifted her hand and waved and Nilia quickly looked away, thinking that she had been caught staring, but Ander was the one she was waving at. He raised his hand in return, but his smile seemed forced. Did he know that vixen? It wouldn't surprise her. Ander probably knew every vixen in this valley by now.
What is wrong with you, Nilia!? Pull yourself together!
She wasn't the only one having trouble. Sorrin was even more out of place than she was. He kept scratching at his bandages, his eyes darting all over the place like a frightened jackrabbit. He nudged Ander in the ribs with his elbow. "Hey, Ander?"
"Yes?" His eyes were still on that vixen, looking at her in a way Nilia couldn't place.
"How does that stay up?" Sorrin cast a wary eye toward the ceiling, looking at it the same way he would have regarded a nest of venomous spiders: part fear, part suspicion.
"Rafters, don't worry about it."
"There's big blocks of stone right above my head and I don't like it. It feels too heavy in here."
"That's one way of putting it."
"Shush up, you two," Rufio said. "I think they're finally ready to start."
Thank the Cora.
There was a table at the head of the building, facing the benches. It was stupidly long, almost reaching from wall to wall, despite the fact that there were only three Foxes seated there (two male and one female). They were all old and grey, but the one in the middle was the oldest and greyest of them all, with the bushiest eyebrows Nilia had ever seen, magnified to an even greater extent by some kind of facial decoration. It appeared to be made of the same transparent stuff filling the holes in the walls.
"Quiet down!" he yelled and banged a little wooden hammer that wouldn't be any good in a fight against a tiny wooden shield no wider than her palm. "Oy! This ain't no bazaar!"
The volume died down, but not by much. Rufio tilted his head and whispered: "That's Amos. Not a bad sort, but he can be a bit wiffly-waffly, so the other two usually just go along with what he says so the meetings don't drag on for weeks. If something needs to be done, he's the one you'll need to convince."
"That shouldn't be too hard," Nilia whispered and cracked her knuckles. She's dealt with so-called 'wise-men' before, and she knew the type. Wolves with more words than actual things to say.
Amos grabbed a stack of papers and started to shuffle through them, peering at each one carefully. He set them aside, cleared his throat, and pushed his facial contraption further up onto his muzzle. "It has been brought to our attention that a small group of Wolves has entered the valley. That would be you lot?"
"That's our cue," Rufio said. "Time to step up."
Nilia, Ander, Sorrin, and Rufio approached the table.
Amos peered at each of them in turn. Nilia already had the impression that this Fox never looked at anything, but always peered. His eyes, magnified to bug-like proportions, came to a stop on Rufio. "You're the smith?"
"Yes, sir."
"Rufio, right?"
"That is correct."
"Bethany's husband, if I'm not mistaken?"
"Yes."
"Lovely woman. Tell her I say thank you for the tonic. Made me right as rain."
"I'll be sure to do that."
By the Cora, this was the wise-man? Calamity was clearly looming up to meet them, and yet he was wasting time talking about medicine? Nilia opened her mouth to say something and Ander gave her a quick jab in the ribs. She glared back at him, but held her tongue for now. Ordinarily she'd have no problem standing back while the higher-ups did all their politicking, but Hezzi's impatience must have rubbed off on her. Or something.
"Now then..." Amos said, pointing a jittery finger Ander's way. "You, the tall one, you're Ander, right? You've been living here for..." He checked another piece of paper. "Almost three months."
"Yes, Sai."
"So these other two, they're new. Are they friends of yours?"
"Yes, Sai. Very good friends."
"I see." The shiny frame of metal started to slide down his nose and he pushed it back up with his pinkie finger. "Are you going to speak for them, or -"
"I'll speak for myself," Nilia said. Her voice echoed through the high ceiling, making her feel like she was standing in a cave. A soft murmur ran through the assembly, like a whispering wind.
Ander touched her shoulder. "Are you sure about that, Nilia? Please don't take this the wrong way, but you can be a bit... 'direct' when it comes to stuff like this. These Foxes know me, it'll be better if I talk to them."
"'Direct' is exactly what we need to be right now. You may have a softer way with words than I do, but you have not seen what's been going on in your absence. I'll talk."
Ander's gaze lingered for a second, but in the end he relented. "All right, Nilia. I understand. Just try not to be too blunt, okay?"
"I'll try."
The grey Fox peered at her, moving his eyes up and down, up and down. "And you are?"
She thumped her fist against her chest. "I am Nilia, daughter of Jerardo, warrior of the Wolves. Or at least, I used to be." She could see Ander looking at her from the corner of her vision, regarding her with those light brown eyes of his.
Well of course he's looking at you, you're the one talking. Everyone_is looking at you._
Yes, but it was Ander's gaze alone that kept drawing her attention. Every little twitch of his lips, every nostril flare, every blink, they all stood out in her peripheral vision like a flash of movement, impossible to ignore.
You've got a job to do, so stand up straight and do it. Focus.
Amos leaned forward in his chair and blinked a few times. "Ah, I see... 'Nil-ee-ya'... 'Nilia'. Are you the one who led your friends here?"
"I am."
"All right... Let's see... ah... yes, let's see here... um..." He started to rifle through his papers again, much to Nilia's chagrin. They were all scribbled top to bottom with an assortment of Fox symbols. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot against the stone floor, trying her very best not to blow up with impatience.
"All right, let's get to it. You seem to be -" Amos took that thing off his face, breathed on the round parts, wiped them on his sleeve, and put them back on again. "- eager to go, so I'll just get right to the point. Ahem. Now, first thing's first. This is Grovenglen. This valley is my home. I was born here, I've raised four children and nine grandchildren and seventeen great grandchildren here. That is why, before I let you have your say, I must ask you a few important questions on behalf of my people. Do you understand?"
"I do."
"Good. How many of you are here?"
"Not counting Ander, we are six."
Amos nodded. "And where are the other four?"
"They are injured. Bethany-Kai is taking care of them."
"And how did they get injured?"
This old Fox had transitioned from doddering niceties to direct questioning with such abruptness it actually caught her off guard. It suddenly felt like this wasn't just a meeting anymore, but an interrogation.
"Well?" Amos said. "How did they get injured?"
Nilia hesitated, but what was the point in lying about it? "Our people did it."
The crowd seemed sympathetic, shaking their heads and whispering to each other in hushed tones, but Amos was a different story. His bushy eyebrows came together in a frown. "Is that why you came here? Because your people attacked you? Perhaps even tried to kill you?"
"Yes."
"Are you criminals?"
Criminals. That word struck her like a burning splinter.
"Nilia, you don't have to -" Ander started, but she silenced him with a raised hand. She wanted to answer this question, and she wanted to answer it bluntly, because the truth of the matter was, they were indeed criminals. Each and every one of them.
Nilia didn't know it, but a cold smile had touched the corner of her mouth, and that was why Amos was leaning back in his chair, as if he'd been standing too close to a smouldering fire that had suddenly flared up in his face.
"Yes, Sai," she said, speaking calmly. "According to our people, we are each a criminal. We saved the life of a Wolf who had saved the life of one of _your_daughters, a vixen who calls this valley home, just as you do. For that we were called sinners. We tried to find peace in a world where none existed, and for that we were called fools. We fought back against madness, and for that we were called insane. We were too different from our brothers and sisters, and for that we were hated. For that, we were condemned. We had no choice but to flee."
"So what you're saying is... you're refugees. Gods in heaven..." Amos sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples. "Nilia, you stand before me with a bear's claw around your neck, speaking plainly and calmly of things that would have reduced any normal person to a quivering mush. I ask you to answer my next question just as plainly and calmly as those before." He pulled the wiry contraption from his face and fixed Nilia with a stare she never would have thought him capable of, cold and piercing. "Are your people still after you?"
She could feel countless eyes on her back. She could hear their whispers, each one carried by the breath of a living being. Those voices belonged to women, children, mothers, fathers, brothers , sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces. So many lives.
Perhaps they never should have come here.
The guilt, the doubt, Nilia took all those feelings and she buried them deep inside, where she wouldn't have to feel them anymore.
But she could still feel their eyes. She could still hear their whispers.
Stop it. You had no choice. Stop it! Stop feeling like this! It's not your fault! STOP IT!
The smell of death and vomit. The sound of flies buzzing over dead flesh. Rain, tapping against the hard, cracked ground. Shallow ripples, swallowed by the earth.
It's all my fault.
Never cry... Never ever cry... Never again...
I am Nilia.
They were all waiting. Nilia opened her mouth and said: "It is almost certain. I am truly sorry."
A soft gasp spread from one end of the hall to the other, and then the whispering began. The reaction wasn't quite as boisterous as she was used to, but that somehow made it worse. Her ears kept picking up snippets of conversation from random corners, but it was the voices of the children that stung her the deepest, cutting into her very heart with their sheer innocence.
"Mommy, does that mean more Wolves will come?"
"Be quiet, baby."
"But will they?"
"I... I don't know, sweety. Just... just be quiet for now, okay? The elders will think of something, I'm sure of it."
There were so many. Their voices were so tiny, and yet they drilled into her ears like the clanging of the bells outside.
"Father? Why is everyone so scared? What's happening?"
"Take your sister and go home."
"But why?"
"Because there's going to be a lot of super-boring grown-up talk, so just take your sister and go home."
Why did they even bring children to a meeting like this? Why!?
"Mom... are we going to be okay?"
"Don't worry, dear. No matter what happens, Daddy and I will keep you safe, I promise."
A line of footprints in a field of snow.
We never should have come here...
They shepherded the children outside rather quickly, but if Nilia thought that would make things easier, she was very much mistaken. Without any kids around, the adults no longer had any reason to try and keep their composure. The whispers swelled, flowing over and under each other in a sea of growing despair.
"Does that mean they're really coming over here? Like, genuine Wolves?"
"That Wolfess doesn't look like the joking type, so I would say yeah, they're coming."
"The same Wolves who nearly killed Kiana? The same Wolves who just about tore Ander apart? Those Wolves are coming here?"
"My family is right on the edge of the valley! What are we supposed to do? Pack up and leave? Justin's barely a year old!"
"Where would you even go? The woods? The mountain? Might as well dig a grave right now."
"Shut up! We don't need that kind of talk!"
"You think because you got a kid that somehow entitles you to a free pass? Well let me tell you something, bud, those Wolves don't give a damn about your one-year-old or your wifey, so you shut up!"
"Quiet! This isn't helping! I said quiet!" Amos banged that little hammer of his to no avail. The meeting was quickly turning into a churning mass of panic. Nilia could smell their fear permeating the air, the salty odour of sweat mixing with dust. They demanded to know what would become of them, their homes, and their families. They called for guidance and action from those supposedly capable of giving it. Their voices rose higher and higher, finally reaching a fever pitch, each one desperate to be heard over the others in this growing cacophony, and although Nilia realistically knew the answer to each question thrown to the front, she simply could not respond. Every time she tried, she saw that endless valley of snow stretching before her, pure white and untouched... except for the line of footprints at her back.
That is why it almost came as a relief when one of the other elders (this one still had some black around his eyes and ears) stood up and slammed his fist against the table. "They're not refugees, they're_fugitives_!" he thundered.
"Sit down, Bileam," Amos said. "To be called fugitives, they must first be found guilty of a crime."
"We don't even know what they did yet!" the one called Bileam insisted, chopping at the air with the side of his open palm, his voice rising to uncomfortable levels. "You're trying to judge them by Fox standards, and that's a huge mistake! Whether or not you believe them to be guilty is irrelevant! The important thing is that their people believe them to be guilty, and their people just so happen to be a tribe of wild savages! Savages who will have a legitimate gripe against us if we choose to harbour a bunch of fugitive Wolves!"
"Calm down, Bileam. Shouting never solved anything."
"Then what do you propose we do? Hide them in the basement when a roving war party shows up at our doorstep? 'Six rogue Wolves, you say? Whoops, so sorry, haven't seen them, have a nice day and good luck'!?"
"That's what this meeting is for, to figure out what we're going to do. If you'd just -"
"There's only one thing to do!" The Bileam Fox breathed heavily as he looked over the crowd, his eyes dark and unapologetic. "We have to send them back. Let the Wolves deal with them as they see fit. We will have no part in this."
So that was it. That was the inevitable verdict. Nilia knew it would come to this, and she hated herself for allowing even a shred of hope to have invaded her heart. Of course they'd turn them away. It was the only way.
But it was also the wrong way.
Maybe, if she was alone in this, she would have accepted their verdict. Maybe she would have turned around and gone back the way she came, carefully stepping inside her own footprints, but she wasn't alone. She had others to think about, Wolves who threw away everything they once knew, all for the hope of a second chance, and she would not just stand by and watch as everything they fought and bled for was dismissed out of hand.
She would fight if she needed to. She would beg if she needed to. Because she was Nilia, and that's why her friends needed her. Because she was strong.
Promise me you'll be strong. Promise me you'll beat this thing. Promise me...
She reached up and grasped her bear claw necklace, feeling the familiar curve against her fingers, smooth and warm.
My mother gave this to me when I was about your age, and now I'm giving it to you...
A fly had crawled out of her mouth at the end, wet and glistening. It buzzed all over her face...
If I'm not strong enough, it will happen again. If I'm not strong enough, their blood will be on my hands...
...and drank of her tears.
This will help you keep your promise. Every time you feel like it's all too much, you can look at it, and remember that you are strong...
Nilia took a deep breath, thinking of the promise she had made and broken so many years ago. "What makes you think they'll be satisfied with six heads alone?" She didn't shout, or scream, or even speak particularly loudly. There was no reason her flat, even tone of voice should have been heard over the panicky rabble, but the moment those words left her lips, a dreadful silence spread from one side of the hall to the other. Perhaps it was the calm way she spoke of what amounted to genocide that caught everyone's attention, or maybe it was the simple truth of the situation finally sinking in. Either way, she had a captive audience now, and she would make full use of it. If that meant being 'blunt', so be it.
"You can send us away. You can even kill us if you want. It won't make any difference. My people will come to this valley, and it won't be to capture six fugitive Wolves. It will be to feed the hunger that has plagued them since birth. They come to kill, because it is the only way they can feel alive. There once was a time my people needed a reason for bloodshed, but that time is over. They will_come. There _will be war, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. All you can do is prepare for the coming storm."
Bileam looked like he had just smelled something particularly foul. His nose was all crinkled up and the corner of his mouth kept twitching sporadically, showing glimpses of the fangs beneath. "You bring great evil to our home, Nilia, daughter of Jerardo. Claiming it would have come anyway, regardless of your actions, is a weak excuse."
"I am not making excuses, I am giving you a warning and a fighting chance."
"The lady has a point, you know," Amos said. "If the Wolves really are after blood, then banishing these poor souls won't help us at all. In fact, it might actually hurt."
"You don't know that!" Bileam screeched. "You can't possibly know that! Wolves and Foxes have existed within a stone's throw of each other for gods know how long, and no trouble ever came of it till all these yahoos came skipping over the mountain! I say we throw the whole lot of them back where they came from, Ander included, and everything can go back to the way it was!"
The whispers flared up again, and so did the anger in Nilia's heart. She could feel it pulsing inside her, like embers caught in a summer breeze. If she wasn't careful, if she couldn't push it down deep enough, if she couldn't be strong enough, it would blaze out of control, and she would have blood on her hands yet again.
Again...
The bear claw hung against her chest, a constant reminder of what a grievous sin it was to be weak. "You might as well stack your own funeral pyre, climb on top of it, and light the kindling."
"I beg your pardon!?"
"We 'yahoos' are the only ones who truly understand what you are up against. We've all felt the teeth of our brothers and sisters at our necks. I am a warrior. I know what must be done."
Bileam sneered. "Pray tell, Miss Nilia, in all your boundless wisdom and knowledge of all things abhorrently bloody, what 'must be done'?"
The answer she gave was direct, to the point, and true. "We must fight."
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