Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 40
40
There was chaos all around him, terrible and familiar, a gut-wrenching return to that awful night that started it all - the night of Ander's trial.
There was no bonfire this time, but everything else was the same: the jostling crowds of ecstatic Wolves, half of them already adorned with the decorative symbols of family and war, dancing to the frenzied rhythm of the drums, and right in the middle of this throng stood Dorin, completely motionless, a single rock jutting out from a roiling sea.
He had spent all of last night tossing and turning, unable to get to sleep. He kept envisioning the hundreds of different ways this day might unfold, none of them good. He must have unwrapped his wrist at least a dozen times, checking to see if there was any improvement.
There wasn't. It was still raw and bleeding. If he made a tight fist or turned it in just the wrong way, the teeth marks would flare wide open.
Now, standing in the middle of this cacophony, Dorin had to be very careful not to let the wrappings come loose. He ran his hand along the leaves, pressing the edges flat, and shuddered as his backup plan shifted against his fur in a hard, rigid line. It had been bitingly cold when he first strapped it to his forearm, but now it was warm and sweaty, a constant weight reminding him of what would almost certainly become his final task in life.
Oh, how ironic fate could be...
Dorin closed his eyes. From every direction, he felt the innumerable bodies bumping into him, slapping him on the back, grabbing hold, jumping up and down in time with the beat. From every direction, he heard their screams, their yells, their shouts, their cries of wonder and delight, the sounds of curses and boasting and cheering. From every direction, their scents came to him on the breeze, scents of excitement, of eagerness, and just a tiny hint of fear.
Dorin opened his eyes and saw Aisa through the crowd, surrounded by a small group of she-wolves. One of them was holding out a bowl of deer blood and clay while the others dipped their fingers and scribbled symbols on each other's bodies. Aisa had the symbols for 'Renna' just below her neck, where her collar bones came together, and just below that, the symbol for 'Baiya Yamre'.
Please forgive me.
She saw him looking, excused herself with a slight bow, and moved through the crowd, slipping past the shifting bodies simply by turning sideways, a feat he never could have replicated.
"Dorin?"
"Aisa." He was thankful she left out the 'Sai' part. "What are you doing here? What's with the war paint? Don't tell me you're actually planning on going over there?"
She turned her head away. "I have to. If there really is going to be a... a fight, then I need to be there. I need to find Renna."
"You could be killed."
"So could you. So could anyone. We have no idea what's on the other side of the Cora. That's why I need to go, Dorin. Don't try to convince me otherwise."
"You're not a warrior, Aisa."
"No, I am a mother!" she spat. "I may be the worst mother to ever live, but a mother I still am! It was a job I never wanted, but a mother I still am! I threw my daughter away in the dead of night, but a mother I still am! And if something happens to Renna... if something happens... if she -"
"Don't."
"- if she dies... a mother I still will be. Even with her gone, I will still be a mother, I will always be a mother, and that, Dorin, is a pain I cannot live with. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Dorin looked into her eyes, into that sheen of unborn tears, a thin line between sorrow and madness no thicker than a blade... an ugly, plain blade with a simple wooden handle... a blade that could make all the pain go away, forever...
But only if you gave up all hope first. It was a price he was willing to pay not so long ago, but not anymore. At least, not yet.
Dorin took her by the shoulders. "Aisa. If something happens, whatever you do, don't try to interfere."
"What are you going to do?"
"I..." Dorin sighed. "I don't know. But I hope... I_hope_ it won't have to be too drastic."
"Dorin?"
He turned his back and moved deeper into the crowd.
"Dorin, where are you going!? Wait! Dorin!"
He moved faster and faster, leaving her behind, shoving Wolves out of his way until he could no longer hear her shouting his name over the sound of the drums.
Where was he? Where was that deceitful piece of -
"Sai?"
Dorin nearly ignored him. The only reason he stopped to take a second look was because of the bizarre paint job. This Wolf had foregone any meaningful symbols or decorations and had simply splashed a whole bowl of deer blood all over his face. It had run down his neck and chest, drying into long, nasty lines down his front. Dorin wouldn't even have recognised him if it weren't for the constant twitching of the eyes and ears, and the bald patches along his arms.
"Ivio?"
"Sai," he said again, jerking his head like someone trying to get rid of an annoying crick in his neck.
"What happened?"
"They kept telling me to paint myself, that it had to mean something, the paint, so they kept coming up to me, these she-wolves, telling me that if I couldn't do it myself they could do it for me, that they'd make it look good, but I kept telling them I didn't want any but they kept coming at me with those red fingers like spiders coming at my face, so I just took the bowl and I dunked it over myself, done done done. No more she-wolves with red fingers in my eyes."
"Well, you look terrifying."
He shrugged and ripped a tuft of fur out from between his knuckles. With all the deer blood splattered all over him, it came loose in one long, sticky clump.
"Where is Wardo?"
Ivio twitched. "Is it gonna happen soon? It is, isn't it? You're going to do it. Something, I don't know what. Probably bad. Even if it works, it'll be bad. I know it will be bad, even if it looks good. If it doesn't work and it goes bad, then that will be two bads on top of each other, so I guess the first is better, but still not good. It's all either just bad or very bad. Or dead, there's that, too. Also bad."
"Where is he?"
Ivio looked around, shrugged, and plucked another tuft of fur from his arm. He was looking sicker and sicker by the day.
"Then get out of my way. I have..." He adjusted the wrappings around his wrist, shifting that uncomfortably heavy weight against his wound. "... business with him."
"Wolves will die today, won't they, Sai?"
"Probably."
"Will I die?"
"You don't have to. You can stay behind if you want."
"What I want doesn't matter, because what I want doesn't mean anything unless I do something to get what I want, and what I want now more than just hiding away is for this to not happen! Not happen! Not!" Ivio stuck his fingers inside his mouth and began to chew, not on the nails, but on the fingers themselves, gnawing on the first set of knuckles. He looked up at Dorin, a surprisingly child-like pair of eyes peeking out from beneath a troubled brow. "Will you die?"
"I'll try not to."
"But will you?"
"What do you want me to say, Ivio? That I won't? Because I can't promise that. I don't know if I'll die or not, so leave me alone!"
Ivio kept chewing on his fingers, not saying a word. With all that dried blood in his hair he looked like a messy pup chewing on his first set of ribs. Dorin was just about to turn away and continue his search when...
"You can't be left alone, Sai. None of us can. Not anymore."
Dorin frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, hoping he didn't look as unsettled as he felt. But Ivio, his words were like icicles, each one slowly driving themselves into Dorin's heart, making him feel cold from the inside out.
"I know I'm not right in the head. 'Touched' they say. Ivio they named me. 'Ivvi' and 'vio'. 'Mad' and 'twitch'. 'Mad twitch'. Worst name ever, but I didn't mind. Everyone here is Ivvi, so I never felt like I was alone, even when I was. The times I was alone was always, all the time always, but everyone else was alone, too, with me, so it never felt that way, never, because the tribe was so big. I could be Ivvi and everyone else could be Ivvi and everything was good because everything was the same, even when I was different, because I was different in a way that didn't make everyone hate me. I was different in the right direction. I was Ivvi." He took his fingers out of his mouth. There were tiny crescents of blood above each nail, not dry like the deer's blood on his face, but fresh and flowing. "I'm not part of that tribe anymore. My tribe is smaller now. I didn't ask to move, it just happened. I still don't... I still don't know if they moved me over here, or if I moved myself. I don't think it really matters. I'm here now, and I can never go back. Sometimes I think I'd like to, but then I'd just be back with everyone else, everyone 'Ivvi', and although I'm still 'Ivio', I feel less alone in the smaller tribe, with the Wolves who aren't 'Ivvi'. That's why you can't be left alone, Sai." Blood slowly oozed form the cuts in his fingers, flowed down his claws, and dripped into the dirty, trampled snow. And Ivio, the one who was named for Madness, but might be one of the most sane Wolves left in this tribe simply by virtue of knowing and understanding that he was mad, looked up at Dorin, and said: "The small tribe I talk about? You're its Chieftain."
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