Born a Monster

189 Servant of the Axe, 89 – Igrun Meets Blackfur

Chapter Type: Slice of Life

“I thought we were supposed to learn this tale while walking to camp?” I asked.

“Shush.” Caeso said.

Igrun let her eyes go unfocused. “Uncle, I see no enemies within range. Have you extended yours since we last met?”

“Listen. What do you hear?”

“Ah.” Kismet said.

Madonna snorted. “I hear nothing... Oh. I hear nothing.”

I rubbed my eyes. I had grown up noticing when the forest sounds stopped. When had I stopped paying attention?

Puffball said, pouncing out of a bush.

.....

I sat down to better be able to do so.

Her tail wagged wildly, and clansfolk looked at each other, their weapons still pointed where Puffball had emerged from the woods.

Kismet closed her eyes to focus.

He emerged from shadow to butt his head against her ankle.

“Wait.” Said on of the clansfolk. “What is going on?”

Caeso rolled forward, came back up from his roll facing where he had been. Blackfur stood there, just radiating a mix of emotions I can only describe as a smirk.

I said.

She sent.

Kismet sent.

Blackfur tilted her head slightly to the side.

“Caeso, it’s wolf tax time.”

“It was wolf tax time last night, too. Four lambs gone, and not even a bleat from the flocks.” He grumbled.

“If you want me to tell her... wait.”

I asked,

sent one of the males.

Bloody-Thoughts? THAT wasn’t a name that made me feel comfortable.

Igrun approached Blackfur, tentatively extending one hand to stroke her ear. “This is the wonderful creature causing so many problems for Sigmund?” she asked.

Blackfur crouched slightly, to bring her head level with Sigrun’s.

Kismet asked.

there was a distinctly bitter taste mingled with Madonna’s scent,

What DID I want? No, focus, talking now.

But what did I WANT?

I idly stroked Puffball’s fur, as she sat there in my lap. The children were growing quickly; a month or two, and they’d be the size of normal wolves.

What size would they be in seven or eight months, after winter was over?

How would the island possibly feed nine adult Cousins of Fenris?

No, focus, talking now.

I pulled my attentions back to the waking world.

“... then he... she... will know where our camp is.” Said one of the clansmen.

“She already knows.” I said. “By smell and sound, if not by her own eyes. Caeso said it himself, four heads vanished from your flocks last night. How far from your camp do you keep them?”

“Well, then it sounds like it’s settled.” Igrun said. “Blackfur of Fenris, will you be our guest in camp tonight?”

Blackfur turned her head to the side.

sent Bloody-Thoughts.

She sounded undecided.

Puffball pushed her cold nose into my lower jaw.

How could she crave gravy, a dish she’d never tasted? I admitted.

said one of the daughters, still off the path among the bushes.

Blackfur looked directly at me.

I sent. “She agrees to the truce, but I’ll need some large pots to make gravy in.”

Caeso shook his head, but said nothing.

#

Butter, flour, broth, seasonings. The hardest part of this was the broth, which doesn’t keep long. Honestly, I was lucky the clan had some available; it takes hours to make from boiled bones, which I also set by the fire, ready to simmer and cook overnight to replace what I had used.

I added sheep milk to make a creamy gravy, in part because there was so little broth. No, let me qualify that. There was plenty of broth for a family or four or five. Four eight growing Fenris and their mother, there was simply not enough broth.

The problem of satisfying an audience with a strong sense of smell is that there is no surprise; they can smell what it will taste like before it is even served to them.

In addition to this is that unless you’ve done something wrong, a Fenris will lick the plate clean before complaining that the taste is wrong.

Bloody-Thoughts sent.

Blackfur added,

Puffball sent the taste of butter.

I took in all of the comments, good and bad, and promised to do better next time. What I suspected they wanted was a lamb shorn of bones and skin, and heated but not cooked. Something to try for later, I guessed.

Blackfur said.

Then she gathered her pups, some of them yawning, others with wagging tails, and walked them into the woods. It is an awesome thing, to see an entire family cast Shroud together.

“You choose interesting allies.” Caeso said.

“There weren’t a lot of good options.” Madonna said, “And most of those ended up betraying us.”

Kismet clenched an unclenched her hands.

“Reality is what it is.” I said. “I am quest-sworn to Igrun’s cause, and allied to the Cousins of Fenris.”

Igrun looked at me through pinched eyelids. “Are we allies, or not?”

My right hand twitched. “Honestly, once this quest is done, I think we three need a break. On a different island.”

“There will be a difficult time, after the death of the jarl.” Said a clansman.

“You must be Titus.” Kismet said. “I can tell by the jaw and cheekbones.”

I looked at Titus, and at Caeso. Different eye color, different hair color, different eye SHAPE. No, different eyelid shape. “Half-brothers?” I guessed.

“Our mother was much loved.” Caeso said.

“And still is.” Titus added.

Caeso shrugged.

“I joined a large family.” Igrun said. “Where are Julia and Solvi?”

“They have joined the island.” Titus said.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Igrun said. “I knew there were a lot of deaths...”

“Feor lives, and has tricked a new son into adopting her.” Caeso said.

Igrun snorted. “I suppose Freya also lives, if her mother does.”

“Igrun, be kind. She will soon have her first child.” Titus said.

“Ooh. Feor was expecting grand-kids.” Kismet said.

“Husband.” Madonna said. “Help me to wash dishes?”

WHAT? When had Black Madonna EVER volunteered for clean-up duty? I mean, she would if you asked her, and she would certainly help...

.....

Oh. This wasn’t about washing dishes.

“If you’ll pardon me, I’ll be back when the dishes are cleaned.”

“No hurry.” Igrun said. “Big family, lots of news to talk about.”

“There would be less news if you would come by more often.” Titus said.

I grabbed my share of the cookware, and Madonna and I walked off to the river, where others (mostly women, but I wasn’t the only male there) were also doing after-dinner cleaning.

“So,” I said, using Neonen, “you wanted to talk where others couldn’t overhear us?”

“Why don’t we just fail the quests and leave?” she asked. “Now is the time for that.”

“And where would we go?” I asked.

“Anywhere that people weren’t trying to kill or enslave us.” She said. “This island has turned into a big fat sack of delays.”

“All we need to do to complete both quests is see Victor and Sigmund dead.” I said.

“Oh? Name the one person you’ve killed since being here.”

“I...” Oh, gods.

“Just one.”

I sighed. “All right, I haven’t been the most proactive in completing these quests.”

She rolled her eyes. “The technical term you’re looking for is nothing. You’ve done NOTHING. And if you continue doing nothing, the quests won’t get done until those two die of old age.”

I held up my hands, flexed them. “I do seem to have recovered from the worst of my wounds.” I said.

“Well, then, MASTER. You should figure out what matters to you and then ACT to GET IT. Oh, and hand me the scrubbing thing again.”

#