Ander - Epilogue: Subchapter 5
5
He could hear it up ahead, the sound of the river. It was so different to the roar of a year ago, the thunderous, roiling crash of muddy brown water sluicing through the earth. This sound reaching his ears now, through the trees and the shifting blades of sunlight, was soft and gentle, like a whisper half-heard in the middle of a daydream.
Ander rounded a bend in the pathway and there it was, exactly where he knew it would be. But, just like the sound, the river itself wasn't the same as a year ago.
A familiar sensation settled on top of his heart as he approached the bridge. It happened every time, regardless of whether he was coming or going. It was a sensation he didn't quite understand - heavy and stifling, but even so, he didn't think it was a bad feeling. Not something to be avoided or ignored. Just difficult.
He ascended the short set of stairs on this side of the river bank, checking (as always) to make sure that the joints and fastenings were still secure and hadn't shifted around. Everything seemed okay. He climbed up onto the bridge proper and began to walk, trailing his hand along the railing. His prosthetic foot made a wooden clunk against the planks with every step, but he could barely hear it over the babble of the river flowing underneath the bridge, unseen.
He didn't have to go far before his fingers brushed against the first name carved into the railing, and, just like it always did, the heavy feeling in his heart suddenly got worse, as if someone had piled a sand bag on top of it.
He could read the name without even looking at it. Just running his fingers along the rough, angular cuts was enough.
Allekai.
Ander kept going, knowing he didn't have to feel every name, or even look at them, but he did so anyway. He felt he had to, that to ignore these names would be the worst kind of dishonor.
And so the names flitted by, brushing against his fingertips.
Venti.
Tallik.
Rika.
Lota.
Prya.
And then, taking him by surprise, as it always did, a name written in a completely different text, not rough and angular, but smooth and flowing. A name that didn't seem to fit with the others at all.
Gordon.
How many names were carved into these two handrailings? How many lives recorded on this simple epitaph?
One hundred and forty one. Seventy on the left side, and seventy one on the right.
One hundred and twenty two Wolves. Nineteen Foxes.
Two peoples. Two tongues. One tragedy.
Banno's name was carved in here, too.
Ander stopped. He took a deep breath, smelling the river, the woods, even the sunshine, taking it all in and then blowing it out again in a shuddering sigh. He wanted to get back to Grovenglen. He wanted to get back to his home on the hill. Most of all, he wanted to get back to Kiana. But he had to stay here for a while. Just a little while. Just long enough to pay his respects, and think about what these names really meant. Who carved them and why. What they were feeling. Who they were remembering.
Ander turned to the south, where the river was flowing downstream, and looked at the names between his hands. It was no one's idea, as far as he knew. No one woke up one morning and proclaimed to start carving the names of the lost into this bridge. It just happened. One day, completely out of the blue, a single name simply appeared in the railing. The next day two more showed up. And the day after that, five. Every time Ander crossed this bridge, there would be more. It was something that happened naturally, over the course of several weeks. Even the Fox names, standing out from the rest with their fine lines and delicate curls, simply showed up one by one. No one saw them being written. No one questioned them. Each name was something unspoken. Something private and personal, like a prayer, unique to the one who had made the journey to the river.
Ander ran his hands across the names. The different handwritings. The different cuts, made by many different knives. Some of them weren't even made by knives, but by sharp rocks. Some were carefully carved, one line at a time. Others were sloppy and uneven, clearly made by a hand that was shaking uncontrollably, but whether out of grief or anger was impossible to tell.
Beyond the names, the river flowed around the supports like silver arrow heads, babbling across the smooth, white stones. The sun shone off the crystal clear waters and threw wavering snakes of light across the wood. Large grey boulders broke the surface here and there, creating more of those silver arrows in the slip stream. Dragonflies flitted back and forth, hunting for midges and mosquitos. Every now and then a twig or a leaf would come floating by, and Ander would trace its course for a while, watching it bob up and down and weave between the jutting rocks, spinning around and around in the eddies caused by the uneven riverbed.
These distractions never lasted long, however, and his eyes would always be pulled back to the names. The names of Wolves and Foxes he once knew. Lines scratched into the wood by mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters. Names left behind by those who would mourn their loss for the rest of their lives.
Ander always wondered about the power of these names. By themselves, that's just what they were. Names. But together, like this, they were somehow more. They were a message. But what kind of message?
Ander supposed that everyone who crossed this bridge had their own thoughts about it. Perhaps a warning. Perhaps a remembrance. Perhaps one last desperate cry of grief. Perhaps it was all of those things. Perhaps it was more.
Ander thought about what that 'more' could be every time he crossed this bridge. The one thing that always nagged at him was the knowledge that the existence of these names didn't really make any sense. Not from the Wolf side, and not from the Fox side either.
Part of the reason why Wolves burned their dead was to move on as quickly and as painlessly as possible. To say goodbye and be done with it. But carving these names here, displaying them out in the open, possibly forever, was something that went against generations of tradition. It was like they were whipping themselves, over and over, a penance that could never be paid in full.
And as for the Foxes, they buried their dead and honoured their memory with markers of stone. But if they already have a place of mourning, a place already inscribed with the names of their loved ones, then why repeat the ritual here, on this bridge, on the other side of the mountain?
Ander looked down at the names, lightly tracing his fingers across the cuts, and wondered if everyone else also paused halfway, like he was doing. He wondered if everyone else felt compelled to touch them, to remember them, like he was doing.
He wondered what it meant to them, what they thought of, what they felt. Wolf and Fox. How they were different. How they were the same.
These names...
When a Wolf crosses this bridge to go into the valley, they look down and see the names of their fallen comrades. They remember what happened the last time they marched through the pass, the last time they allowed their hunger to take over. And when a Fox crosses this bridge from the other side, they look down and see the names of their friends and family, those who died to keep them safe, who died trying to do the right thing. And when the day is done and it's time to head back home, whether they're a Wolf or a Fox, they look down and see the names written in a different text, letters and symbols they may not understand, and remember the price the other side had to pay, the sacrifices that had to be made. But most of all, they remember why they still have a home to return to.
A single tear rolled down Ander's cheek and dripped onto the railing, staining the wood a darker shade of brown. He did not know if his thoughts on these names were true, or if there even was just one 'true' answer, but he believed they were true for him, just as, he supposed, the thoughts were different and yet also true for everyone else who crossed this bridge and paused to contemplate these names. The lives lost. The ones left behind. The past, closed forever, and the future, opened up to some unknown tomorrow.
Wolf names. Fox names. All together in their grief. Different, yet the same. The same, yet different.
Ander looked at the names and he thought about the bridge he was standing on. He looked at the names and he thought about the day, so much like the day this all started, the day when the mist was thin in the sky and crawling along the ground, the day when Wolf and Fox came together. He looked at the names and he thought about the day, not too long ago, when there was no bridge here. Just a scar of water running through the land. He looked at the names and they began to flow together, hundreds of lines and scratches, splinters sticking into his palms. He looked at the names and he thought about the water flowing around his legs and the mist hanging in the air. He looked at the names and he thought about the weight of the logs on his shoulders. He looked at all the faces staring down at him, so silent, so afraid, and he knew, he just knew that -
*
- he had to finish it. He had to keep going.
The water was up past his knees. Not nearly as vicious as the torrent that swept Banno away on that stormy autumn night so long ago, but Ander could still feel it pushing and flowing around his legs, trying to trip him up. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad by itself. He was sturdy. He could handle it. But he was also carrying a log on his shoulder, and the weight was getting worse and worse the closer he got to the opposite bank, where a horde of Foxes was watching his slow, but adamant progress. Adults, children, it felt like the entire town had trekked through the pass just to watch him trudge from one side of the river to the other, their faces wracked with worry, whispering to each other behind cupped hands, chewing their claws down to stubs and gasping in horror every time he slipped and almost fell.
Finally, after what felt like an hour, he reached the opposite bank and heaved the end of the log on top of the dark, crumbly soil. He would have to anchor it at some point, but he still had five more logs to go, and he knew the longer he stood here, the more the quick-running waters would sap him of energy. Still, he took a moment to lean against the embankment and rest his head on top of his crossed arms, taking long, slow breaths in preparation for the difficult task ahead, a task that wasn't even close to done yet.
He looked up at the Foxes, standing so still, many of them with their hands up near their mouths, as if in prayer. So many familiar faces. There was Jonah and Jon. James and his three kids. The twins. Bethany, Rufio, Layla, and Kiana, her pregnant belly standing out more and more each day.
All of them were wearing the same unasked question on their faces, but on Kiana's it stood out the most clearly, just like the tears slowly running down her face, tracing the faint remnants of the scars running down her cheeks, and that question was why.
Why are you doing this?
It was a question Ander himself didn't really know the answer to, but at the same time, he didn't think he really needed one. It just needed to be done. That was pretty much the long and short of it.
It needed to be done.
So Ander turned around and started on his way back, pushing his legs through the rushing waters one careful step at a time, trying not to trip on the smooth, shifting rocks below. A difficult task even for someone with two perfectly healthy feet, but for him? He made it about a third of the way before his pegfoot slipped on one of the stones and he crashed down to one knee. He wasn't hurt (all the water spraying up against his face made it look much worse than it actually was) but worried gasps rose up from both sides of the river.
Yes, both.
Ander stood up, wiped the water from his good eye, and blinked at the western bank, where a horde of Wolves was gathered, almost like a warped mirror image of the eastern bank.
They were standing there with the same worried, anxious expressions on their faces. The same prayer poses, with their hands up near their faces, some actually praying, and some chewing on their claws. Hushed whispers to and fro. Heads shaking. Some started forward when he fell, going right up to the edge of the bank before stopping fast and retreating back to the safety of the crowd, like frightened animals scenting danger.
Ander could tell they wanted to help. Or perhaps just stop him from doing this before he bashed his head against a rock and got swept away.
But they couldn't. And the reason they couldn't was one of the reasons why he had to do this.
It was fear. They were afraid of the Foxes staring at them from beyond the rushing waters. No, they were more than afraid. They were petrified. Those were the creatures that had summoned the snow from the mountain tops. Those were the creatures that had killed so many of them with nothing more than the agonal cry of a single ram's horn.
Ander looked back over his shoulder and saw the same thing reflected on the Foxes' faces, as well. It was fear. Overwhelming fear at the Wolves lining the opposite bank. Fear of their gnashing jaws and crimson teeth. Fear of the wild, animalistic insanity that could burst forth at any moment, rending flesh from bone and life from body.
Two sides. Two peoples. Absolutely terrified of each other.
And Ander was right in the middle.
I have to do this... he thought, knowing perfectly well how useless, how unnecessary, how futile this thing actually was. Nobody needed a bridge here. Even a Fox could wade through it without too much trouble, as long as the water wasn't too high. It was only during the rainy season it turned into a raging torrent, and even then, nobody would have such a burning need to cross that they couldn't wait a few days for the water level to drop. So then why? Why go through all this trouble? Why chop down six great big pine trees? Why lop off all the extraneous branches? Why drag their corpses all the way here, to the exact same spot where it all began?
Why try to build a bridge between two peoples who could barely even look at each other without cowering in fear?
Because it's not just a bridge, Ander thought. It's not just six pines and however many planks it'll take to level out the walkway. It's more than that. It's something that should have been built long ago. Something that only I can do.
Something to stitch shut this bleeding wound, once and for all.
Ander pushed his way back to the western side. The water kept swiping at him from the right, spraying up into his face and unexpectedly stinging him with sharp twigs, and the Wolves simply watched his agonisingly slow progress, one step at a time, not saying a word, just like the Foxes.
Ander finally reached the bank and grabbed hold of the next pine, jutting slightly over the water. The notch (what James called a 'lap joint') made a good handhold as he dragged it onto his shoulder. Ordinarily this wouldn't be too much of a problem with most of the log's weight still resting on the ground, but his arms still hadn't fully recovered, and they were already beginning to ache and scream, as if Banno's teeth and claws were still embedded in every scar.
"Come on, Ander..." he whispered to himself, beginning the slow, arduous task of dragging the log out across the water. "This is only the second one. Come on."
The murmurs behind him grew louder with every rickety step. It seemed everyone expected him to keel over at any second and, truth be told, Ander couldn't truly blame them. If he was in their position, looking in from the outside, he would doubt the ability of this crazy Wolf, too. With his dark leather eye patch and his odd-looking wooden stump of a foot, his arms, chest and face covered in all manner of healing scars, he was the absolute epitome of a lost cause. Better to leave him to his fruitless cause and go home.
But they didn't. They were all there. Wolves, she-wolves, adults, children, grandparents, everyone. Standing there, watching him go, shaking their heads and whispering their incredulities. Or perhaps...
Silently cheering him on?
Ander laughed at his own wishful thinking, but as much as he tried to deride himself for such fanciful thoughts, he couldn't completely dispel them. They were still there. That was the thing. They weren't laughing, they weren't pointing, they weren't yelling at him to stop doing such a pointless thing. They were watching. Just watching. Perhaps waiting to see what would happen.
Same as the Foxes.
They were a bit easier to read. All those eyes, fixed solely on him. Every once in a while one pair would flicker towards the opposite bank, and then quickly flicker down again, like a child peeking through his fingers at the most crucial parts of a scary story.
Ander gritted his teeth and kept going, dragging the log out across the water. The problem was, with every step he took, the more weight came sliding off the bank and the more he would have to carry on his own shoulder. He cut them to be more than long enough to straddle the width of the river, but even so, if that first log was anything to go by, this one would become almost unbearably heavy by the time he reached the opposite bank.
And he was right. He was only a few short strides away from being close enough to heave it up and over and get rid of all that weight (at least until the time came to drag the third one) when his wooden foot slipped again and he went crashing down to both knees. He felt the smooth rocks scrape against his shins, bringing blood, and in the same instance the wood slammed down on his shoulder, scratching his ear with a flurry of splinters. Gasps rang out from both sides, accompanied by lots of nervous pacing and grabbing of sleeves and wringing of hands, but Ander was in no position to notice any of that. He felt the river take hold of his midsection the moment he went down, and now, with so much more of his body to push against, Ander could feel himself begin to tip to the right, the weight of the log only adding to the list.
Ander plunged his free hand into the freezing water, anchoring himself as best he could.
For anyone else, this might have seemed a stupid idea, hanging on for dear life when he could just let go. It was only a log, after all. Just a dead, dried up old tree. So what if it got swept away? He could go back into the woods and chop down a new one if the bridge was still too narrow with just five.
But it wasn't just a log. Not to Ander. Not just some dead tree. It was more, and he knew it, and everyone else knew it, too. If he dropped this now, this bridge would never be finished. Ander did not understand why this was the case, but he knew it to be true. It would just end up a broken piece of loosely cobbled logs and planks, a half-assed attempt at something that shouldn't have been attempted in the first place, and eventually even that would be washed away, and in time everyone would just forget that someone had once tried to build a bridge here. No. He wouldn't have that. It had to be this log, this one and its five brothers, no others. And that's why he couldn't allow this one to be washed away. He knew it was a stupid reason, but this was the only way forward, the only way that the wounds would ever have a chance to fully heal. He knew it.
And he wasn't the only one.
There was a loud splash, and suddenly Kiana was in the river with him, pushing her way through the water with all the grace of a pumpkin, her dress trailing out behind her in the rushing current.
"Kiana!" Ander spluttered through a mouthful of brackish water, both happy and furious at the same time. "What are you doing!? You're pregnant, for crying out loud!"
"Oh really? I hadn't noticed!" she called back, the water spraying up against her ample stomach in a fan shape. She was already soaked to the skin.
"Kiana, I'm serious! Get back -" The river swelled and Ander felt himself pitch over, saw the smooth, white river rocks, blurred and twisted by the swirling water, rushing up to meet his face.
Kiana grabbed him, pushing against the weight of his body, pushing against the weight of the log bearing down on top of that, and pushing back against the water surging up behind them, pushing back against all of it, turning herself into a support, like she's been doing for him since the moment they first met.
"Ander!" she yelled, gritting her teeth and squinting her eyes against a barrage of freezing droplets, her hair plastered to her face.
She could only hold him up for a second, but a second was all he needed to straighten himself up and lift the log back on top of his shoulder, and the higher he stood up, the less the water was able to push against him.
"Ander..." Kiana was looking wobbly. The river was forcing her back.
"Kiana!" He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, shielding her from the current. The water rushed around them in a sideways 'V', kicking up fins of river foam. "Just stick close to me, okay?"
She nodded against his side, but for all the excitement, she didn't seem all that concerned. Even though the water was much higher for her, and even though it was cold enough to snatch one's breath away, she was... smiling?
Yes. She was.
In that exact moment, Ander was unable to understand why exactly she would be smiling. But, just like she'd been a support for him ever since they first met, there was something else she and only she could do, something she'd been doing right from the very start.
She could always see and understand the effects of his actions on other people, and even now, she was looking around at all the faces staring down at them from both sides of the river bank, Foxes to the east and Wolves to the west, and she could already predict what was about to happen. The effect of all of Ander's hard work, his compassion, his drive to help and unite these two peoples as well as the two halves of his own soul.
She could see it coming, she could feel it coming, and that's why she was smiling.
She was smiling because she knew that, before this day was through, Ander would finally close the wound he's been carrying in his heart his whole life.
And if he needed just a little bit of help, a little bit of support to take those last few steps, why, she would be happy to do it.
Because she loved him.
"Come on, Ander! Just a little further, come on!"
Ander was so focussed on getting Kiana back to shore that he almost forgot about the log weighing him down and the impossible bridge he was trying to build with it. It actually came as a surprise when his knee bumped against the opposite bank.
Alright, set the log down, then get Kiana up there...
Ander started to lift the log, gritting his teeth in anticipation of the immense weight he was about to raise above his head, but for some reason it wasn't nearly as heavy as he expected. Barely half that of the previous one.
He looked up and there was Rufio, James, and Michael, crouched down right on the edge of the river bank, digging in their heels and puffing like a trio of dray horses.
"Oh gods, this thing weighs a ton!" Rufio said, clamping down on his pipe.
"Good quality, at least!" James added, lifting with his knees.
And finally, with a victory cry of "Upsy daisies!" from Michael, they dropped the end of the log on top, spanning the river bank from west to east alongside its brother. Probably an adventurous Wolf or Fox could cross it this way already, as long as he didn't mind holding his arms out for balance or going for an impromptu dive in the icy water at any second because none of it was fastened yet and could go rolling off in either direction. But yes. Technically speaking, they had the beginnings of a bridge.
Panting for breath, Ander grabbed Kiana around the waist (she wasn't as heavy as a log just yet, but she was getting there) and lifted her out of the water. "Get this crazy vixen out of here!"
Danado held out his hands (covered in a pair of extra-thick, heavy duty leather gloves), took Kiana underneath the arms and easily lifted her back over dry land. The tips of her sodden shoes had no sooner touched the ground, however, than Bethany came swooping in, waving her arms and shooting off about sudden temperature changes and loss of consciousness and lack of air and what if she had fallen and cracked her head open and what if she got swept away and what about the baby and what about her family and did she never think before literally leaping oh but wait if that was the case they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place and the entire time Kiana just looked at her with this small smile stuck on her face before finally cutting the tirade short with a very vigorous (and very wet) hug.
"Kiana by the gods I'm soaked!" Bethany yelled, throwing her arms up in the air. It was always so funny whenever Kiana hugged anyone these days because she had to turn sideways just to accommodate that giant belly of hers, something that always made Layla howl with laughter, and this was no exception.
"Kiana, you're gonna turn into an icicle at this rate!" she said, joining in the hug. "Oh brrrr screw that, I'm gonna turn into an icicle, damn!"
Now that she was back in good hands, Ander was able to turn back west, already mentally preparing himself for the four roundtrips still remaining. But, well...
The sight waiting for him finally made it clear why Kiana had been smiling.
Dorin had jumped down during the commotion, and one of the remaining logs was resting firmly atop his shoulder. A second later, Thoka jumped down as well, hauling the fourth one over the water.
"What are you guys doing?" Ander asked, carefully making his way through the roiling waters.
Dorin cocked an eyebrow, as if the answer should have been self-evident. "Ander, you lost an eye and a foot. You're covered in scars. To be quite frank, I've seen heaps of dung on the side of the road better-looking than you right now. Do you really think you can afford a cold on top of that?"
"But-"
"Stop making us look bad!" Thoka huffed, his bottom lip sticking out like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. "Damn cripple... out here building bridges... making us look like a buncha lazy slackjawed..."
Tio chose that exact moment to jump on top of Thoka's log -
"Ooof! Damn kid!"
- and bounce up and down in excitement. "Come on, Thoka! I want to see Layla-Kai!"
"What!?" Thoka peered over the top, his eyes wide. "She gets a 'Kai' but I don't get a 'Sai'? You little brat!"
Tio responded to this admonition by sticking his tongue out, much to the enjoyment of the Wolves still watching from the safety of the bank, not least of all his father, Traido, who could only shrug and shake his head.
Ander watched all of this with a steadily mounting sense of awe. It was just some laughter, but there was so much more to it than that. What he was watching was his old life, his old people, his old family, his old tribe, and yet it was so fundamentally different to everything he had known that it caused a kind of overload in his mind, and all he could do was stand in the middle of the river with water splashing up against his pants, and stare.
These were the same people who used to hate him with a passion. These were the same people who nearly beat him to death with rocks and sticks. These were the same people who had nearly taken everything from him. And now...
Now these were the same people trying to give back.
More and more Wolves were jumping into the river, taking up their place as Dorin and Thoka pulled ahead, neatly slipping in line the moment enough space opened up.
And it wasn't just the Wolves, either. The twins were already making their way across the first two logs with a length of rope between them, playfully pulling and tugging along the way, trying to trip each other up.
"Oy, watch it!" Nicholas said, holding his arms out for balance.
"Careful, Nicky! There be more'n snapping turtles in these 'yere waters! Aye!"
"_You're_about to go in 'these 'yere waters' ass over teakettle if you don't stop goofing off, you pillock!"
With so many Wolves working together, it only took a few minutes for the rest of the logs to make it to the other side, and even less time for the Foxes to haul them up the embankment.
It was such a simple thing, but Ander was practically frozen in place, watching the Wolves, down in the water, extend their arms and lift the logs up for the Foxes to grab and pull back. Actually working together to accomplish a common goal. Actually touching...
But then the Wolves began to hoist themselves up onto the eastern embankment to get out of the freezing river, and they were just so damn big compared to the Foxes, looming out of the water like that. Even soaking wet, with their fur stuck to their bodies and lines of water dripping from their sodden clothes, they were just so damn big. Many of the Foxes retreated back towards the mountain, shepherding their kids behind their dresses and outstretched arms, visions of the Winter of Mourning still fresh in their minds, no doubt imagining how easy it would be for a creature so big to hurt a Fox so small. How easily a child's entire head could fit inside a pair of jaws like that.
Ander felt the tension rise in his heart. It would be so easy for something to happen right now, this very instant, something that might not even be hostile at all. A single yawn, showing off all those rows of pointy teeth. A grunt of effort that could be mistaken for an angry growl. Even something as simple as an odd look directed at the wrong person could send everything crashing down again.
It was at that moment, when Ander's worry and the Foxes trepidation were at their peak, that the Wolves did something that came perfectly natural to them. Something Ander himself had done many times without even thinking about it.
A dozen or so Wolves, all in a line, began to shake-dry their fur in a spray of droplets, their chops flapping, their hair flaring outwards, trailing beads of water in the afternoon sun.
The Fox children just about went crazy with delight.
"Big Foxes, Ma!" Theo said, pulling on Vicky's dress with one hand and pointing madly with the other. "Big, big Foxes!"
"I see them, sweety," Vicky said, lightly ruffling his hair, and it created a moment of total recall in Ander's mind, so clear that, for a moment, he was actually transported back to that day so long ago when he first stepped out into town and met with the Foxes for the first time, how scared he had been, how scared _they_had been.
Except for one little kid, tugging on his mother's dress.
Look, Ma! Big Fox!
And amidst all of this was Kiana, sopping wet, simply looking at Ander with that knowing smile on her face, as if to say, 'I told you so.'
And that was how Ander came to spend the better part of an afternoon being the absolute worst builder ever, because he just couldn't stop staring at what was, to him at least, a miracle in motion.
He watched the twins go back and forth across the logs like a pair of acrobats, throwing temporary ropes over the side while Seffer and Vekka ran along underneath, tossing them back up again, quickly developing a nice rhythm. Once that was done, James marked the best places to cut, and supervised his sons as they went about widening the notches with hand axes. After that, the Wolves paired off (two on each bank) and, with Dorin's careful instruction, were able to pick up the logs and slide them into place to make the base for the walkway. It seemed that everyone was taking up a job somewhere. Even Ivio was 'helping' by nailing two chunks of cast-off wood together, banging the hammer up and down so fast that the head was little more than a blur.
Some Wolves went back to the village to fetch more tools. Some were making camp fires for all those who had gotten drenched in the initial stage of the build.
One of the Foxes had produced a packed lunch and was offering some to a gang of Wolves, who sniffed at it and turned their heads this way and that, clearly not knowing what to make of this alien substance known as 'bread'.
Some Foxes had gone off into the Woods together with the Wolves to find more wood, and were actually talking about what kind would be best.
Nilia and Mateo were inseparable throughout all this, of course. She, walking along, picking up thick, sturdy branches, and him, insisting on taking each one off her hands the moment she picked it up, until eventually he was left with a stack higher than his head.
Many of the womenfolk had taken refuge in the shade, and it was just the strangest sight to behold, so many savage she-wolves in doe-skin pants, wiping the sweat off their brows and gossiping about which Wolves cut the best figure, wading through thigh-high water and lugging armfuls of lumber around, all while sitting underneath the same tree as a bunch of prim and proper vixens in finely woven dresses of blue, green and yellow, staring up at these behemoths, nodding their heads and even joining in the talk.
"Now don't get me wrong, I love my Jeremy to pieces, I really do, but I don't think I'd mind it so much if he were built a bit more like that... what was his name again? The one over there, with the rope? The one with the really, really nice abs?"
"You've got a thing for Rahjit?" One of the she-wolves gave her a playful nudge in the ribs.
"I most certainly do not!" she responded with an air of most righteous hauteur. "I just think he's got nice abs, is all."
Back on the eastern side, Kiana was practically drowning in a sea of Wolven kids, all of whom couldn't stop staring at her stomach.
"So there's a baby in there?" one brave lad asked, lightly poking her belly with the tip of his finger, as if he were afraid she might explode. "Just like, in your guts and stuff?"
"Well, yes," Kiana replied, struggling to maintain a straight face. "You were just like this, too, back when you were still in your mommy's tummy."
"Weird."
That was all it took for the floodgates to open, and suddenly Kiana was caught in a deluge of small, curious hands and clutching fingers.
"Oh! Um..." Completely surrounded, there was nowhere for Kiana to retreat to, and she had to stand there awkwardly with her arms up as child after child poked and prodded at her stomach, giggling and chasing each other around in circles.
She looked to Ander, completely at a loss, and burst out laughing. She laughed and laughed until tears stood out in the corners of her eyes.
"Hey, Ernder!" Rufio called, struggling to speak clearly because of all the nails sticking out of his mouth in addition to his pipe. "Whatcha oglin' fer? This is yer dern bridge, innit?"
Smiling, Ander bent down, picked up a dirty old carpentry hammer, and got to work.
Slowly but surely, the bridge began to take shape. The six logs got straightened out, spanning the river from west to east, both ends firmly anchored in place and lifted high enough to avoid the flooding of the rainy season. Planks got nailed horizontally across the logs to make for an even walkway, Foxes hammering at one end and Wolves on the other, eventually meeting in the middle. The last plank had to be sanded down a little in order to fit, but once it got banged in there (with many an old Wolven curse thrown in for good measure) it was barely noticeable. Some supports were added for extra stability (something they probably should have done way earlier, but it really was a spur of the moment kind of thing). And last, but certainly not least (as the future would come to reveal) a simple railing was erected on both sides. Just some sturdy branches for the supports and some left-over planks to span the gaps.
"Okay..." Ander lined up a nail, gave it a little practice tap to get his eye in, and then hammered it home in three hard strikes. He ran his thumb across the head and nodded, satisfied. "I think that does it for this side. How's the other one coming along?"
He turned around to check, but they were already finished. Hezzi gave the railing a little yank and a shove, then raised a double thumbs up, indicating that it was sturdy as houses.
But that meant...
"Wait, are we done?"
Ander went down the steps, hammer still in hand, and turned around so he could get it all at once, the whole thing.
It was probably the ugliest bridge ever constructed. Thick, gnarly old pines at the bottom, a hodgepodge set of planks on top made from many different kinds of trees (really just whatever ones were closest and dry enough to use). A railing made out of crooked branches (some even still had their bark on) and flat planks lining the top, some of which had splinters so big he could spot them even from here. It was a clumsy, awkward collaboration between Fox and Wolven building techniques, with meticulous joints existing side by side with hashes of rope and finely crafted nails sharing the same home as crude iron spikes.
But it was also the most beautiful bridge Ander had ever seen, and it was done. It was actually done. With all the Wolves and Foxes working together, a project he had thought would take at least a week had taken only a few hours.
"I can't believe it..." Ander said, and laughed. There might have been a slight tremble to that laugh, though. "I can't believe it's actually done... Kiana, do you see this?"
She was standing right next to him, holding onto his arm, but she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at the opposite bank.
Ander followed her gaze, and even though he knew he shouldn't be so surprised by this point, he couldn't help but break into a giant smile.
There were Wolves and Foxes together on the western side. Bending over backwards and crackling their backs. Stretching their arms and groaning. Squinting at the bridge with one eye shut and lining it up with their raised fingers, trying to see if it was straight or not. Some were just sitting in the shade, the Foxes with their shirts tied around their waists and fanning themselves with clumps of leaves, and the Wolves panting straight up at the sky with their tongues hanging out. Foxes and Wolves, shoulder to shoulder. Well, shoulder to elbow, in most cases.
The same thing was happening on this side as well. Wolves and Foxes both, standing back to admire a job well done, their hands on their hips and small, satisfied smiles spreading over their faces.
One by one, the realisation began to settle in, just like it did with Ander, and they found themselves looking at everyone else, so many people just standing around, blinking in surprise at what had happened so gradually, so naturally, that barely anyone even noticed it until now.
Kiana squeezed his arm, and when Ander looked down, she was smiling from ear to ear. "Why do you look so surprised? You're the one who did all this."
Ander hugged her close, smiling at the way she had to turn her stomach sideways to get her arms all the way around. He bent down, kissed the top of her head, and simply loved her.
Back when this bridge was just a log spanning the water, little more than an idea being pushed forward by one very different Wolf, there had been a clear line between these people, and not just the physical one drawn by the river. There had been Foxes on one side, Wolves on the other, and that was simply the way it was because it had to be.
But now... now that line was gone. These were no longer the monsters with the red fangs, or the demons who could call snow from the mountain tops. These weren't even Wolves and Foxes anymore. These were just people, plain and simple. People, looking at each other in the fading sunlight.
Not so different...
*
"... after all."
Ander bowed his head as a sign of respect, remembering the reason this bridge came to be, and the reason the names of the dead had appeared upon the railings, sprouting up like infant blooms at the changing of the season, one by one.
"Thank you..." he whispered, running his hand along the scratches and feeling, as always, just a little bit guilty. What right did he have to be so happy when so many of his kin had died in the snow? What right did he have to wake up every morning with a smile already stuck to his face, when so many had to wake up to empty bedrolls and hollow silence?
What right did he have to cry tears of joy instead of tears of sorrow?
One such tear broke free of his remaining eye, fell past his scarred hands, past the equally scarred railing, past the names of Wolves and Foxes both, past the supports holding the bridge in place, and finally ended its short life in the swirling eddies of the river below. The sunlight glinting off the water's surface had gone from silver to gold, and the fact that he was here, standing tall, weighed down with bags of food and an uncomfortably warm bear pelt, seeing these things, thinking these things, wondering what those broken shards of light would look like on a cloudy day or a moonless night, standing here being alive, feeling alive, experiencing it all, the sights, the sounds, the smells, all of it... all of it was a miracle. And that's what this bridge was truly about. That's what these names were truly about. They weren't a way to cling onto the dead, or a way to open old wounds, or a way to remember old grudges. No.
They were for the living. More than a way to remember the lost, they were a reminder for those still alive to keep on living, to never forget the lessons that came so dear.
This bridge. These names. They weren't about death, they were about life.
They were about Len.
Ander looked up at the two monstrous halves of the mountain and the scar of golden sunlight shining between them, as if pointing the way home, and smiled.
He had planned on making camp inside the pass itself, then continuing the last leg of his journey in the morning, but...
By the gods, Ander, come over here, quick! I can feel the baby kicking! No, I'm not joking! Hurry up! Right here, right here. Can you feel that? It's our baby, Ander! It's our baby!
Maybe he would walk all through the night instead.
"Kiana..." He readjusted his bags and finally crossed the bridge to the other side. "I'm coming home."