Ander - Part 1: Subchapter 4
4
It would have been difficult for them to make their way through the jostling crowd if they didn't have Banno. Those that noticed his massive form quickly squeezed together to let him and his brothers by, while those that didn't were simply shoved aside without warning.
It was as Ander followed close behind that he suddenly did notice the smell of blood. It wasn't the blood of a stag or any kind of wild game, nor did it belong to a Wolf. It was fainter, less bitter, something he's never -
Gripped by a sense of urgency he couldn't explain, Ander elbowed Banno out of the way and pushed through the crowd, the scent growing stronger all the while.
"Hey!" Banno shouted, but Ander ignored him. Being a rather large Wolf himself (second biggest after his brother, in fact), he parted the crowd without too much trouble and finally broke into the open. What he saw froze him to his core.
In the shadow of the effigy of Cora, the Mountain God, there stood a simple cage of iron. In the farthest corner of this cage, huddled up against the bars, was a creature the likes of which Ander had never seen.
She was similar to a Wolf, but smaller, and instead of having the usual colours of black, grey or brown, her fur was orange. The clothes she wore were different, too. Most Wolves wear leather pants and vests, or simply go around bare-chested, but she wore a dress beneath an emerald green cloak, both made from a strange kind of woven material Ander has never seen before. As his eyes travelled down her slender frame, he found the source of that bloody scent.
Her foot was torn wide open above the ankle, and Ander knew immediately that wound could only have been made by one of Wardo's cruel traps. He calls them his 'biters' and he's fond of hiding them near the river, where deer and elk like to gather.
"What the hell is wrong with you!?" Banno shouted as he burst out of the crowd. If Hezzi wasn't perched on his shoulders he might very well have struck Ander right then and there.
"What is that?" Hezzi asked and pointed at the cage, temporarily diverting Banno's anger.
"By the Cora, that's a Fox!" he exclaimed, a strange look spreading across his face.
"A Fox?" Ander said, tearing his eyes away from her with effort. Of course he's heard of the Foxes that supposedly live on the other side of the Cora - everyone has - but he's never actually seen one. "What would a Fox be doing here, on this side of the mountain?"
That wicked grin spread across Banno's maw again. He was indeed a Wolf of extremes, always finding joy in anger and hatred, and satisfaction in the misery of others. "Right now it looks like she's crying," he said, staring at her with an unmistakable lust in his eyes; not for her body, but for her pain.
Ander couldn't stand this. She was indeed crying, and he could tell despite the way she had her face covered with her hands. It was in the way her shoulders hitched with each breath, the way her ears were flattened against her head, and the way her tail was curled around her body, as if to comfort.
To confirm all this, a single tear snuck past her sleeve and rolled down her cheek, carving a dark line in her fur, darkening it to the colour of blood.
Ander had a sudden vision of the day's hunt; how the stag seemed to cry blood in its death, just like she was doing right now. There could no worse omen than this.
No, Ander! he thought to himself. You cannot allow yourself to think like that. She is not a stag, or an elk, or a deer. She is not crying blood and she is not dead! She is a Fox, and even these heartless creatures you call family must understand what that means.
No matter how hard Ander tried to convince himself of that, his own thoughts were nothing more than hollow wishes. He knew the tribe, and he knew what they were thinking. To them, she really was no different than a stag, no different from a piece of unexpected excitement in an otherwise boring day, just another slice of meat, and even though she wasn't crying blood right now, it would only be a matter of time before they forced it from her eyes, like they force everything.
Their taunts and jeers attested to this.
"Hey, foxy foxy foxy!"
"That pelt would look great on my wife!"
"Your wife's so fat she couldn't even use it for a hat! The pelt's mine!"
Laughter. So much laughter, even as the Fox in the cage cried in fear. Always the laughter. Ander could feel it eating away at his restraint like maggots boring into spoiled meat.
"I'd like to do more than just skin her, if you catch my drift! Ha!"
"You and me both, friend!"
"Perhaps we can share her!"
"Then we skin her!"
"Then we roast her!"
Ander dug his claws back into his palms, hard enough to make blood seep between his clenched fingers. This was too much. This was simply too much.
He should have known things could only get worse. In this tribe, they always do.
He didn't know who threw the first rock, but he saw it sail over his head, could feel its shadow pass over his very soul, and strike the bars of her cage with a clang. She cringed against the sudden noise and curled her tail even closer around her body as the rock bounced back and landed in the dirt.
That was all it took.
Everyone started scooping up rocks and throwing them at the cage. Most bounced off the bars, but some made it through...
... and struck her.
A sickening wave of horror and fury washed over Ander, more powerful than anything he has ever felt before. It threatened to spill over and engulf his very being, and yet he was powerless to act upon it. What could he possibly do against the whole tribe?
Well, do something, for pity's sake!
Ander looked to the cage and the sad Vixen trapped therein. She didn't make a sound, merely shielded her head as the rocks pelted her and bounced off her arms and shoulders. The sound of every impact was like a hammer blow to Ander's heart. He was so riveted by this horrific sight, he almost didn't noticed Hezzi wriggle his way down from Banno's shoulders and pick up a rock of his own.
He cocked back his arm, ready to throw, but Ander gently closed his fist around the pup's wrist, stopping it cold.
Hezzi looked up, and the confusion Ander saw on the young Wolf's face, as if he couldn't comprehend why it was wrong to throw a rock at a wounded girl in a cage, stung him deeply. Ander shook his head, just enough for Hezzi to see, and hoped he could convey more than just a simple negation with that gesture.
He didn't know if Hezzi understood the full message, but he did nod his head and started to lower his rock.
That's when Banno grabbed it out of Hezzi's paw. "Thanks, brother."
"Banno, wait!" Ander cried out, but it was already too late.
Banno could kill a bird on the wing with nothing but a pebble and a moment's notice, and this was no different. A single, almost casual flick of his arm and that stone went flying through the air before Ander could even finish his shout. It sailed through the gaps in the bars and struck the Fox's shredded ankle with deadly accuracy, tearing it open anew.
She lowered her arms and, clutching at her wound, screamed in agony. It was the first sound Ander would ever hear from her mouth, and it was as if he could feel her pain in his own body, as if the scream itself carried it through the air and stabbed him in the chest, sharper than any spear.
It was also the first time he saw her face.
Yes, it was wracked with pain and agony, but despite that, she was the most beautiful creature Ander had ever seen.
"Ha! Right on the mark!" Banno shouted in triumph, raising his arms to signal to everyone that he was the one who managed to evoke a reaction from their newest plaything.
No one was expecting what would happen next.
The Fox, such a helpless thing mere moments ago, picked up the rock that had struck her and hurled it through the bars of her cage with a primal scream, right at the black Wolf with the raised arms, her face contorted not with pain or fear, but with anger.
Ander could see everything with his keen eyes; a fraction of a second stretched out into what felt like minutes. He saw the rock fly through the air, tumbling end over end, one half covered with her blood so that it seemed to flicker between red and grey. He saw Banno's eyes grow wide, his expression changing from victorious amusement to one of outright shock.
Even while the stone continued its dangerous arc, Ander found himself hoping for two opposites at once. At one end, he dearly hoped that stone would strike Banno right in the face. He hoped it would break his muzzle and knock out all his teeth so he would never again be able to indulge in his sick fetish. And yet, at the same time, Ander hoped that the stone would miss, for if that little Fox managed to hit Banno with it, then she would never live past the hour. Banno would see to that.
He would want to taste her death personally.
This has been the fourth subchapter in my serial novel, "Ander". If you enjoyed it, please help keep my face un-mauled by irritable ostriches by dropping me a donation. Thank you! ^_^
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