Road To Amaroq

“Welcome to Wedmal, Cody.”

“Did I miss anything? How long have you been here?”

“A few weeks now.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have flown here—just, you know how I get with those steelbirds. So damn loud and cramped and… well.”

The large wolf-man, whose ears were covered in a beaver cap, lumbered away from his truck and pulled up his belt buckle, which slid back down his belly.

“It’s fine. Got some research in. It’s more your loss. I was hoping you’d be here earlier so we could hit the historical sites.”

Cody stretched, his white-furred gut poking out between the buttons of his red-and-black flannel. He spoke while yawning, then went to fish something out of his truck.

“No thanks. I’ve read enough about Wedmal: tourist trap. You’ve seen one old mall-fort turned city, you’ve seen them all.”

“I would have thought, you know…”

“It’s my people? Because it’s the north? Did you see how far this was? This is squatchland. I had to drive for five days and go through six passports to get through here. Some of those squatches still eye me funny.”

“They didn’t give me any trouble.”

“Of course they didn’t, Fridgeman. No one wants to kill an endangered species.”

Cody handed Jason a canister of gas for the generator from the trunk of the car. “Speaking of failures to reproduce—you and Cassie…”

“Ah, dammit. Not you too…”

“Look, you know it’s going to come up. I just want you to brace yourself.”

It was silent for a moment as the two friends looked at each other. Jason nodded slowly while looking out at the sky, his face receiving no warmth from the winter sun. It was going to be sunset soon.

Cody moved toward the truck’s backseat door and looked at his friend, wondering if he was going to need to apologize. Jason looked lost in thought. Cody steered the conversation back.

“Anyways, if we’re doing history, we should do real history. Remember that trip to Tai Son’s?”

“Oh, back in college?” Jason smiled despite himself. “That feels like ages ago.”

“Yeah, first year we roomed. Were you with Cassie back then?”

“I don’t think she was enrolled yet.”

“Oh yeah.”

“While you were dating that—what was her name? Qar—”

Cody squawked. “Khaa-ren. That damn harpy.” Cody grimaced. “I selectively erased that memory. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t restore it.”

Jason laughed while Cody rummaged through the passenger seat of his car-turned hotel suite.

“Still, Tai Son’s, back near our old school—that was a real Mal-city. Layers of settlement, siege damage, actual archaeology…”

“…Julie the Tribal Raider.” 

Cody whistled at that. “The allure of history.”

“Why didn’t you join her re-enactor group then?”

“The Amerok weren’t in that war."

"So? They had travelling mercenaries back then right?"

"Speculative...but... if I knew then what I know now, I could have fabricated evidence for a wolfman mercenary, ‘Lon Red-Mag, wondering warrior of The White North.'"

"I can see the mural already."

" Spent enough time as an archivist now—I know all the tricks.”

“Too late now. Her vault has probably already matched her a partner. Plus…”

“Jason, man, I come here to bring hope to your cause and you just gun down mine. I mean, look at you and—ah-ha, here we go.” Cody found a packet underneath the bags of clothing and sleeping bag.

“Well, I passed by the school here. Maybe you can find a nice girl to talk your ear off.”

“This place?” He gestured vaguely toward the direction of the town, then snorted.

“About what? Mostly abandoned until the shale rush. Then they just thawed out old buildings and called it heritage. Barely a settlement during your people’s time: only one crater. Besides…”

Cody reached into the bed of his truck and shook a cluster of bottles. “We’re here to find your moose and drink my beer.”

Jason, who was filling up the large multi-fuel generator by the RV, snapped at attention. “I left them outside so they’d stay cold. You gonna let me into the RV, or do you want me freezing my tail off?”

Jason nodded while gesturing toward the generator and gas can.

Cody, already familiar with the space, tugged at the generator, which roared to life. Cody grunted as he spoke, revving the engine.

“Man, gas is cheap out here. Way cheaper than Amaroq. Might stock up to the max before heading back. You should too—especially if you’re serious about Lasqa.”

The word froze Jason in place while he moved toward the RV door. Cody noticed, his breath lowered to a soft steam.

“You did tell Cassie about that part of your plan, right?”

“Not yet.”

Cody pulled his hat off his head, then scratched at his ears and head. His tail stopped wagging. 

“Then let’s pray we find one here.” He shook his head and scraped the snow off his hat. “In any case, is the RV warm yet? Because I’m freezing, and I’ve got fur. I don't know how you can still move.”

Inside, the RV was a shrine to obsession: cabinet doors repurposed into corkboards and blackboards, layered with maps, photographs, and charts. Beneath them, a cramped sink and cabinets. Food on the inside; knowledge on the walls. At the far end the bed's boxes and samples allotted only a small corner for a tired man to curl up into.

“You remembered to bring the stuff?”

“Oh, I brought the stuff.” Cody grinned, opening the bottle on the wall. “And you owe me big time. Special Collections nearly had a stroke letting me photocopy these.”

They climbed into the RV. Jason shut the door while Cody flopped onto the couch, rattling the RV. He opened a manila folder, slurping a beer with the other hand.

“All right. Take a look at this.”

Jason fished through the photocopies—yellowed maps riddled with holes, ancient typefaces barely legible. Red symbols slashed across the copies. His fingers shook as he held what he had only heard about in books, "The Ridowmal Map."

“These are from the old Empire."

"They supposedly tracked moose and counted types of trees, which is why most people think it’s a forgery.”

“Why?”

“To quote Professor Vulfhearte: ‘Why would an empire focused on military prowess and practical engineering have an entire department dedicated to tracking a mythical creature? The mapmaker either thinks we are fools, or the Youzonians were.’”

Jason ignored it. He’d heard it before. “How far were they from here?”

“A couple miles. Truck territory.” Cody pulled another page. “Problem is climate. During the intermediary period, temperatures hit Neo-Holocene levels. Too warm. Moose should’ve migrated north.”

“But there are northern accounts of reappearance.”

“Right. Which means you’re banking on a species surviving extinction events, starvation periods, and then thriving enough to recolonize.”

Jason bristled. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m cautious. This place is famous for the idea of moose, not proof of them. Most consensus still says it’s a myth—an upsized deer.”

“The antlers don’t match deer.” Jason pointed at a cartoon image of a deer on one cabinet. “Their antlers are like hands, not sticks.”

“Artistic interpretation?”

Jason crossed his arms while Cody reached for another beer. “Look, I’m here to help. But this evidence is shaky. These documents? Usually fake. Museums are drowning in forgeries.”

“And this one?”

Cody scratched his snout and took another swig of his beer. “Either real—or terrifyingly good.”

Jason smiled, eyes ablaze. “That’s the fun of cryptozoology.”

“Does Cassie agree?”

Before Jason could answer, his pager beeped.

“She’s at the airport,” Jason said. “On her way.”

Jason grabbed another beer and put the pager back in his pocket. “Thanks for coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Cody said. “Not excited about freezing for cataloging poop—but if we find one?”

The pager beeped again.

“Tell her to bundle up.”

“She’s from colder climates than you, Cody.”

“Still. Say it so you seem like you care. Do I have to be your assistant boyfriend too?”

Jason laughed, low and rough. “If I ever date a harpy, I’ll ask your advice.”

"Don't ask my advice, ask my help to clean your place before she gets here. You didn't tell me she was coming now!"