|
Laura and the Rhymwulf
(This story is dedicated to Patch)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun had just kissed the horizon of the savannah, and Laura still had a fair way to travel before reaching her burrow. She would have reached home by now, but she was determined to take a meandering path that curved and frequently overlapped itself. She certainly didn't need the exercise, between hunting for grubs each night and plenty of narrow escapes from predators in the past, but she was convinced that this was safer than a straight line. By travelling in this fashion, it would be harder for larger creatures lacking the intelligence for tool use and speaking a common language to track her to her family's home. For those with it, she would simply appear to be wandering aimlessly, neither threat nor prey. You are what you eat after all, and no one wants to be an imbecile, if the can help it.
Laura felt clever and confident, and she was eager to share the night's bounty with her cubs and guardians, no doubt eagerly awaiting breakfast at first light. She changed direction often enough to not require glancing over her shoulder, and indeed she was not tracked by any beast driven by instinct or malice. Unfortunately, she had no defense against the insane, and was thus quite surprised to hear a sharp and deliberate clearing of the throat directly behind her.
Laura did not move. Keeping her back turned to the unexpected visitor, she slowly angled her feet inward and outward, creating a small divot in the sand. By feeling for signs of disturbed earth beneath her, she could guess the location of nearby holes she could jump into, where larger creatures could not follow. This also created a small pile of sand which she could kick into its eyes, giving her a bit more time to sprint toward her own burrow. It was too far to reach on her own, but she could get close enough to raise an alarm for her guardians. Whatever was behind her hadn't tried to maul her yet, so there was a good chance it would back off when confronted with a team of angry meerkats.
"Why do you shuffle? Do you wish to run away?
You'd not hesitate if you truly were prey.
Your head seems to hold more than stimulus-response.
Might you speak Language, by any... chance?"
Laura winced, but said nothing.
"You felt that stretch, that's all the evidence I need.
How nice to encounter an intelligent breed.
I'm conducting a study, you might like to hear
as you've been selected as my next volunteer."
Laura pivoted to face this strange speaker. For the most part, he looked like any other desert wolf, or perhaps coyote. She had tangled with a few in her time, and her comfort zone had expanded drastically. He was large but lean, meaning either he had trouble finding food elsewhere or this "study" of his overrode his basic survival. If he tilted his head up slightly, she could walk upright underneath the length of his body. Not that she had any intention of doing so, but having a frame of reference is important for this kind of thing. Intelligent or not, he was a hundred yards too close for her liking. "You don't look like a scientist. You look like you want to eat me."
"Lies and slander! By your words I am slain.
But lab coats and spectacles don't fit my frame.
Appearance aside, it's time for your test.
Once we're in position I'll explain the rest."
With that, the wolf unsteadily rose to stand upright, just like Laura was. He towered over her now, but his obvious difficulty balancing on his tiny hindpaws nullified any hope of intimidation. Even so, Laura did not want to give this beast any more time to prepare what he was planning. She turned and fled as the wolf wobbled and flailed, his gaze focused on his own legs rather than hers. She couldn't drop to all fours to run, as her foodsack was too bulky to hold in her mouth, and she left her shoulder strap at home. She heard a sudden sound of joints popping behind her. Then a thudding rhythm matching her own, indicating the wolf was giving chase on two legs, and had suddenly become skilled in doing so. Before she could get much farther, she was sent flying with a mighty kick from behind. Her reflexes instinctively made her tuck and roll, avoiding muscle damage but forcing her to let go of her sack. Thoroughly disoriented, she tried to stand but was pressed to the ground once again. Somehow, the wolf's paws had lengthened in seconds, covering from neck to knee while pressing down with a force just short of suffocating. Could any of her guardians have seen the commotion? Would they be able to help her in time? She knew she was trapped and had to save every bit of breath, but an urge welled up to try and make some sense of all this. She forced a single word from her throat, hoping she could be understood while pressed facedown into the sand. "How...?"
"Tis a trick I learned from an old white beagle,
lets me flip my stance between feral and regal.
The test has begun! My curiosity's seething:
How long will it take for you to stop breathing?"
As the wolf spoke these words, he shifted his paws so that the weight of both feet was distributed evenly across the meerkat's entire body. Between the surface tension of the sandy ground and the scrawny build of the malnourished wolf, this actually took Laura out of mortal peril. Regardless, Laura wished to be anywhere else than here. She knew the end was never far away for creatures of her size, but this was a rather lame way to go, all things considered. She was able to take a few shallow breaths, but she wasn't sure how long it would take before her muscles and bones tried to meld together. She could attempt a few words at a time now. "Who... are you?"
"I am the Rhymwulf, a mythical trickster from folklore obscure.
You care not a whit to hear my origins, I'm sure.
I was sent to this desert to test your endurance...
I hope your pack bought you good life insurance."
At this point, Laura regretted being able to breathe. This 'Rhymwulf' may not act like a normal wolf, but he certainly smelled the part and then some. Every desparate gasp was filled with the full force of his sweat glands, and it was starting to make her dizzy. What was the feeling... hatred? No. Just bitterness. Much toward this beast for torturing her so, but more toward herself for letting it happen. She could hardly move, but she could still go down swinging. Maybe she could talk some sense into him? Her mind went one way, and her voice went another:
"Crushing me for science? That's a cruel trick.
Your feet smell like yeast and it's making me sick.
If you're to stand on me until I'm dead,
this sand could at least cover more of my head."
This sent the Rhymwulf into a fit of laughter - not the reaction Laura was hoping for. From her perspective, his quivering was magnified and considerably painful. Her vision blurred and blackened...
The Rhymwulf's laughter was interrupted by a deep and deliberate clearing of the throat. Looking to his left, he spotted a majestic lion. In all fairness it's difficult for a lion not to look majestic, but this lion wore a little gold crown. It also spoke with a voice that rumbled the underbrush: "You know who I am, and you know you should be running. And yet you stand rooted to this spot, your feet angled like that of Man. What compels you to stay?"
"Fraggle Rock, how lovely for you to stop by!
No need for your claws, I tell you no lie.
After searching the four corners of the land,
I've finally found the best spot to stand.
There's no obstructions to view sunrise or sunset,
And whenever it rains I get just enough wet.
In the lives of mortal critters I'll not interfere
As long as I keep my two feet planted... right here."
Fragarach sniffed deeply. He could not see Laura's prone form beneath the Rhymwulf, nor could he sense her unconscious mind. On one paw, this was not the first time the Rhymwulf had promised to stick to the straight and narrow (at least as well as demigods could perceive it) and he very much doubted it would be the last. On the other paw, Fragarach knew that the Rhymwulf's mind - however warped - was bound by his own logic. "Very well, Rhymwulf. You have made this promise of your own free will, and I have witnessed it. Now if you'll excuse me, riding the winds has given me a great and terrible hunger." And with that, the lion's maw opened impossibly wide... enveloping the Rhymwulf from the knees up, tail and all. To the empty space where the Rhymwulf once stood, he said: "I have left enough of your body here that you will find it easily once you regenerate in the spirit plane. I said I would leave you in peace... it did not have to be a whole piece. Good day." And with that, the lion faded like a sun-baked mirage.
Laura stirred a moment later, her face still pressed between rough ground and enormous paws. Instead of laughter or rhyming, she heard only the wind. The pressure from above had lessened considerably, but the bruises she had sustained would persist for days. She arched her back slightly, and was shocked when the foot not only gave way, but fell to the side as if it were a rotten tree. She slowly slid out from underneath the other leg, then crawled over to her grub sack. It was undulating slowly but had not burst open when tossed aside. Despite her soreness, she hefted the sack over her shoulder, walked over to the toppled leg of the ex-Rhymwulf and gave it a swift kick. Then she began the mercifully short trip back to her burrow. She may not be the fastest gatherer in her pack, or bring back the most, but from that day forward Laura could be counted on to always, always make it home alive.
|
Login
Register
FAQ
Search
Members
WOW Sprotchymon 
