Little Chicken

I place my hand in the running water, washing off the blood and cooling myself. Sweat drips down my ribs, the digging is finally finished. I look over the small waterfall we have created, the rushing water will take some time to fill the hole, unless we widen the trench more.

“Chill out big guy, let the water do the work and you’ll be chomping more arms soon.” I shout down to my hippo trapped in a well.

Artur stares at me puzzled, a questioning look on his face.

“Don’t worry about it. He’s just got a strange diet. Speaking of food, you should grab honey out of the tippee and eat something.”

He shakes his head and starts expanding the channel.

I crouch down beside him and take the dirty pauldron from his hand, looking him in the eyes. My mangled face must make a sight, but he doesn’t flinch at my wounds. I suppose compared to the Depths, this is nothing.

“Artur, I’m not going to pretend to be your Dad or older brother. But I am the leader of this flock. Which you are a member of, so you gotta listen to me. You did a great job, now go get some food, have a rest and if you want to help me some then come back afterwards. Understood?” He nods and hands me the armour plate.

“Good lad, I’ll be over to get some food soon as well.”

And with that he lets me take over.

I widen the entire trench by another inch and deeper it by the same. The flowing water helps to remove the loose mud so the work starts to get easier. My exhausted body protests from the labour, what I'd give for a dribble of elixir. I consider doing the Victor's prayer to hand over the men's spirits, but just in case the Reaver I dealt with earlier is still on duty, I postpone it for another day.

As the light starts to fade, I check the water's progress using my Cattle senses, the pit is filling up rapidly. Deciding gravity will do more than me, I say goodnight to Cane.

After washing my grubby hands, I head to bed for a honeydew supper and a decent night's sleep. My route takes me by the sanctum once again.

Curiosity niggles at me. Pacing around the side, I find a bark door that I can peel open. The inside contains a supernova of blinding light, the motes are too tightly compact for me to see. So I keep my eyes shut and crawl into the hollow stump.

The soft mossy inside reminds me of the night spent in the vagabond tree. When life was a challenge but in a simple way, now It’s still hard and complicated.

The motes smell of spring, a light pollen scent with hints of sweetness.

“Mother, are you there?” I ask feeling a little silly.

A green glow forms in my mind's eye, like when you slowly remember a dream you had from the night before. A woman’s face forms, matriarchal and handsome her gaze bores into me like it did in the forest the first time we met.

“Mother.”

“Shepherd. I am so proud of you, my child. Fighting against the tenacious evil of your kind with such vigour. But you have lost your flock.” Her words vibrate through me without ever making a sound, soothing and familiar.

“It was the Voice, he betrayed them. All of them. They’re being taken to a human settlement to be sold into slavery.”

“Nooooooo!!!!” She screams out, I feel the motes swirling in a rapid typhoon until she seizes.

“You must rescue them, my followers must be brought to my haven in the mountains. Look for the source in the sky, you can not miss it.”

“I will, but I need your help to save them. I can’t fight them all by myself.”

“It is difficult to take shape outside of the sanctum, so far from my realm. The forest will answer the call, my Guardians and Verox move for the slaughter.” The beautiful woman talks of killing with no remorse, her reputation and namesake feel a little misleading though I don’t disagree with her actions.

“The slavers leading them away have abilities from Order, and there are a lot of them.”

“Do not doubt my warriors Shepherd. Only worry about reaching your flock in time. They head to the human watch tower, now go! Hurry!” The mental image disintegrates.

I crawl from the sanctum, feeling stiff and hungry. Reaching my shared tippee as Artur emerges with Honey.

“I thought I said you need to get some rest.” I sound like my Dad, how quickly life makes you the old badgering git in the group.

Artur nods, makes a sleeping gesture and points towards the sky. The fading sunlight slowly intensifies, what is going on?

“Wait a branch fall, is it rutting morning?” I bleat out with realisation.

So the Voice didn’t lie about everything, the trance conversations with Mother do take a while. I suppose every good lie is hidden in truth.

I rush to the pit as Cane’s little hummingbird ears emerge over the edge, fluttering with glee, he erupts into a roar of joy. Impatient he bobs about in his deep pool, creating a splashing wave that he eventually rides up the side, barely managing to scramble onto the surface with sheer will.

I envelope him in a hug, Artur joining (with Honey attached to him), My flock are finally back together.

“It’s great to have you back my friend. I’m so sorry I left you, those useless sacks of muk are going to answer for what they’ve done.” I sincerely apologise looking into his beady eyes. Cane only stares back, I keep expecting him to talk at some point. I suppose discovering magic opens up a lot of possibilities. Talking animals isn’t that extreme when you can make a literal blood clone using a small piece of someone's nose.

“Artur, get Honey to pump out some breakfast. I’ll pack the tippee away. We are leaving.”

I dip my fingers into the puddle of dark blood, the coagulated fluid cracks and flakes away. The Blackroot’s endless stare cuts through me and onto the heavens. A contorted scream of agony stays with him into death, a Verox tearing your throat out will do that.

Mother was right, it was a slaughter. But not just from the men’s side. Guardians, Verox and Blackroots litter the grounds. For every human slaver, there are three of Mother’s warriors. It shows how fortunate I am to escape my execution against terrible odds.

Arthur kneels nearby over a dead Satyr, an adolescent Thorn who believed he was protecting the tribe from wild animals. The youngling reaches out for a lost spear and leans it against the Thorn's body.

“He died with honour, protecting those he loves. It doesn’t matter that he was fighting his own if he believed it until the end. There was no spite in him.” I say to the lad, hoping it sounds reassuring. He looks up at me, angry and unconvinced.

“The Voice tricked even Mother. A Goddess in her own domain. How was this Thorn supposed to know any better? We can’t hold it against them for the poison whispered into their ears.” He stands and storms over to a heavily armoured Blackroot. His remains, both flesh and armour, were crushed to a pulp by a huge Guardian. Artur pulls a small knife from the remains, it is thick at the handle and leads to a deadly point, practically a sword in his tiny hands.

A rustling noise grabs our attention. I signal for Artur to stay low, then jump into Cane.

Cattle Senses

The world reeks of muk and sweet flesh. My hippo mouth crunches through a skull, the brain popping out like a packed spot to elicit a rich tasting treat. Yellow chunder escapes my actual stomach, I know the taste of my kind now, wonderful. Cane continues his lunch unfazed, now a connoisseur of the carrion variety he glutinously indulges. The overstimulating blanket of smells makes his nose useless, his ears pick up a high pitch whimpering behind a dense wall of ferns.

I return to my body and skulk to one side of the foliage, Riptail in hand and Cane on my flank. I set my blade a fire and push through.

A wall of archers made a stand behind the green wall, firing upon a pack of charging Verox. Their basic looking arrows must have been empowered with Will for they cut down the entire family. A matriarch beast shakes on her side, an entire quiver pincushioning her torso, penetrating chitinous armour plates and flesh alike.

A small compy nudges her, trying desperately to awaken it's dead parent by pecking her side like a hungry chicken. Crying with harrowing pain of loss. My already damaged heart breaks from its shrill whimpers, he’s one of Mother’s own, her elite warriors if only a junior. So he could be one of mine, a part of my flock, and I can command the sadness away.

It hears my shoes crunch the leaf litter below and wheels around to snap at my hand.

“Calm down little chicken. I can help you.” I woo gently.

It leans back on its haunches to leap, those tiny claws could still take my eyes out.

Artur steps in front of me, the Verox and the Satyr share a look with their emerald pupils and the little lizard relaxes. Finally seeing friends.

I offer it some honeydew nectar as a final peace offering, which it laps up with starving enthusiasm.

“You can have all the sweet droplets you want in my flock, little chicken.” I stroke the Verox head as it eats more.

Tame Lesser Cattle.