The Wanderer
Rain fell starting late that evening into the afternoon, when the sky finally started clearing up. Tanda ran out of his house after dinner and headed to Torogai's. Puddles in the path reflected the red light of the setting sun. Tanda leaped over the puddles.
The temple where the tolcha were stored came into view at the top of the path. Balsa was already there, waiting for him. Tanda waved. "Balsa!"
Balsa stood up, short spear over her shoulder.
Tanda doubled over. He had a painful stitch in his side.
Balsa laughed. "You know better than to run so fast right after dinner," she said.
Tanda frowned, then stood up straight. "I'm fine," he said. "It already feels better."
The rumor of the wild dog had spread widely, so Tanda hadn't seen any other people on the path. The only sounds were those of birds returning to their nests for the evening. Balsa and Tanda walked downhill together, toward the koza trees and large stones that people often rested at while traveling. The leaves of the koza tree were always green, even in the depths of winter. The bright and brilliant autumn colors of the surrounding trees were in sharp contrast to the dark green of the koza trees.
The path forked to the left and right. The right fork led to Kosenkyo, while the left fork led to the other villages that were downriver. Tanda stood under the koza trees on a rock with a very serious expression. Balsa looked like she wanted to laugh—Tanda was never so serious—but she refrained.
"Want me to stay down here with you?" Balsa asked.
"You promised to watch from the tree," Tanda said.
"All righty then. Don't get eaten." Balsa squeezed Tanda's shoulder, then turned around, setting her small pack against the trunk of a tree. She placed her spear upright next to her pack, then climbed up a koza tree and was swallowed up in its dark branches.
"Hand me my spear," Balsa said after she'd found a good spot to keep watch. Tanda picked up her spear and lifted it all the way over his head. He was surprised by how heavy it was, but he tried not to show it.
Balsa gripped the spear, then stood upright in the tree with the spear next to her on the branch. "All right, good. You stand there. That way, if you're attacked, I'll be able to stab whatever it is before it reaches you."
Tanda nodded, then moved to where Balsa was pointing. He remembered seeing Balsa running yasu fish through with her spear when they were at the river together and frowned a little. He didn't want to be attacked by the wild dog, of course, but he also didn't want to see Balsa stab anything again.
Darkness fell. Even the birds went quiet. Tanda heard nothing but slight rustling in the grass when an animal passed by and the sound of his own breathing. The weight of the stillness overwhelmed him, making him even more nervous. "Balsa," he whispered.
"Yeah?" Balsa whispered back, her voice echoing slightly overhead.
"Nothing. I thought you might be asleep."
Balsa snorted, though she kept it quiet. "As if I'd fall asleep while standing in a tree."
Tanda took a step closer to the tree. The grove was shrouded in deep gloom, and only the path leading into the city was visible. It was a damp night, and cold. Tanda had sweated through his clothes while running here, and the evening chill made him shiver. He wished now that he'd thought to bring a coat, even though it would have slowed him down. He rubbed his trembling arms to warm them and felt goosebumps rising on his legs.
A shrill sound like that of a high-pitched hand flute pierced the dark stillness. Tanda crouched down instinctively, feeling suddenly afraid. It was probably just an unusual bird call, but Tanda thought that the sound resembled the cry of an infant. The grass rustled all around him, but Tanda saw nothing.
Suddenly, Tanda released his grip on himself and came all the way up to the tree where Balsa was standing guard.
"What are you doing?" Balsa asked.
Tanda found two branches with his hands and settled the sole of one foot on the tree trunk. "I'm coming by you," Tanda said.
"You can't! The branch will break if it has to support both of us," Balsa hissed in irritation.
Tanda's mouth snapped shut. His lower lip trembled. He didn't reply to Balsa, but he looked for another branch near hers so that he could climb up.
"Not that one," Balsa said. She reached out and pulled Tanda's wrist over to a different, fatter branch that was slightly higher up. "This one."
Tanda was about to pull himself up to the branch when Balsa shushed him. "Don't move," she whispered. Tanda clung to the tree and waited. Balsa sounded like she was on edge. She let go of his hand slowly and stood up straight, holding her spear in both hands.
Tanda felt something cold and wet along the back of his neck and went rigid. There was heat emanating from behind him. He heard footsteps squishing into the slightly muddy ground of the grove. Tanda guessed that a very large beast was here, and coming closer. The beast took heavy, panting breaths as it approached.
Slowly, carefully, Tanda released his grip on the tree and landed on the ground. He turned and saw two blue-white eyes staring at him in the darkness. He could see nothing else of the wild dog, but he smelled its breath, which reeked of blood. Tanda had been scared of being alone in the dark before, but now, the nature of his fear was completely different. The light in the wild dog's eyes started to spread out, illuminating its entire body. The tips of its long fur glinted like a koza tree's evergreen leaves on a day of fresh snow, clear white in the darkness. Tanda tried squinting to see the wild dog better, but the light surrounding it was dim and did not brighten past a certain point.
Then Tanda smelled something very familiar.
"Uncle...Onza?" The wild dog smelled like the water candy that his uncle sold at festivals every year.
The light surrounding the wild dog intensified. The brightest illumination still came from the very tips of the wild dog's fur. Some of the fur was shed into the air, like long pieces of thread. The fur was still attached to the wild dog, but it expanded the range of light even further. Tanda had no trouble seeing the wild dog now.
The semi-detached fur started to form into a different shape, but it collapsed before the formation was complete. Tanda was able to recognize the shape before it disappeared, though.
Uncle Onza's face. It really is him.
Tanda heard his uncle's voice cry out, "Sis...ter..." before fading away. The fur that the wild dog had shed returned to him and reattached. The dog began to shake like he was trying to dry himself after swimming, but Tanda didn't see any water on the dog anywhere.
Then the wild dog howled. Not loudly, but Tanda heard it. It sounded like a cry of grief. The dog started scratching with his hind legs. The light surrounding the wild dog dimmed, though it didn't go out.
"Uncle Onza," Tanda whispered, "are you...still here? With us?"
The wild dog's ears pricked up. He stared very seriously at Tanda for a moment, then lowered his head. Still looking at his feet, the wild dog shuffled closer.
Tanda heard Balsa shift overhead and cried out, "Don't hurt him!"
The wild dog came a few steps closer to Tanda, then passed behind a tree. He didn't come out again. The grove was quiet and still.
Balsa jumped down from the tree, landing next to Tanda with a muffled thump. Tanda blinked and looked over at her. He was sweating all over and started shivering again.
"You okay?" Balsa asked. She gripped his shoulder.
Tanda nodded shallowly. Balsa's hand felt too warm. "Balsa...did you see it? My uncle's face?"
Balsa shook her head. "Nope."
"But you saw the fur light up, right? And some of his fur came off and turned into a face for a few seconds...you really didn't see anything?"
"No, I didn't," Balsa said flatly. "All I saw was the wild dog. I got the sense that it didn't want to be seen, and it's definitely not starving. I don't think it wanted to attack you."
Balsa bent down to retrieve her pack, which she'd placed at the base of the tree. She rifled around inside the pack and pulled out a tinderbox, which she used to light a small torch. There was nothing oppressive or frightening about the darkness now. It seemed like just an ordinary night.
"Are you sure that you saw his face?" Balsa asked.
Tanda nodded. "I heard him talk, too. He said, 'sister.'"
Balsa absorbed this information, then planted her feet on the mountain path. "You should get home. Your mom'll be worried. I can go with you and apologize for keeping you out late."
Tanda followed Balsa down the path, but he kept looking back, craning his neck and searching for some sign of the wild dog. "I think...uncle Onza wanted to talk to me," he said.
Balsa struck him on the back, a bit harder than she'd intended. Tanda gasped. "Quit with that," Balsa said.
"With what?" Tanda asked.
"If you're right, it'll mean more trouble," Balsa said. "You've seen the wild dog, so I think you should just leave this whole situation alone." She seized Tanda by the wrist and dragged him up the path.
Tanda bent his knees to prevent himself from being dragged and twisted away from Balsa. "Hey, let me go! Stop! Are you angry or something?"
Balsa stopped moving. She turned to face Tanda with stern eyes and a worried expression, still holding onto his wrist. "He's dead, and you shouldn't get involved," Balsa said. "Don't you understand that?" Her voice shook with the force of her anger—or concern. "You should. If you go digging around now, it could be dangerous for you. That's why I told you to quit. Let it go."
"But—"
"—even if that dog has your uncle's spirit or whatever, it's not like you can take him home! He's a wandering spirit now."
Tears clouded Tanda's vision. He tried to yank his arm out of Balsa's strong grip, but Balsa tightened her hold. They stood there on the mountain path, hands connected and eyes nailed together. Tanda cried out, weeping openly, unable to hold in what he was feeling any longer. He started thrashing around, trying desperately to free himself.
Balsa let him go. Tanda tripped over his own feet and landed on the ground.
"Stop being such a baby!" Balsa said. "I'm just stating facts. That's no reason to cry. This is why other kids bully you all the time."
She turned, putting her back to Tanda, and started walking up the path alone. Tanda stared at her retreating back, still crying, not bothering to keep his voice down.
Tanda crouched on the path with his head in his knees, crying until he ran out of tears. The ground under him was cold. Numbness seeped into his bones. It was almost sunrise: he and Balsa had been out for much of the night. Tanda stayed still and watched the sun creep up over the horizon.
Tanda exhausted himself with crying. Everything he felt seemed distant and far away as the bright morning sun illuminated the path. Uncle Onza had called out for his sister last night. Where was he now? Was his spirit sleeping inside the wild dog? Would he remain there until the wild dog died? What happened to bodies possessed by spirits?
Uncle Onza must have been lonely...why else would do something like this?
Tanda's uncle Onza never had a home to return to after leaving the village while he was alive. He was dead now, but he still had no place to belong.
Tanda was no longer crying, but his nose ran. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and stood up.
Balsa returned to the temple where the tolcha were held and sat down on the same stones the elders had rested on before they'd opened the doors for the harvest festival ceremony. The stones were very cold. A torch burned next to her, propped upright; her spear was in front of her. She was rubbing her face with both hands.
"Idiot," Balsa muttered to herself. She could still hear Tanda crying. "He's such a baby..."
She was saying the same things she had before, but there was no heat to them. Balsa sounded frustrated, more than anything. She was shivering, but it wasn't from the cold.
Balsa was scared.
Not of the wild dog: no. She was frightened of what Tanda had seen and heard. She believed him, since Tanda didn't lie, but she feared that his ability to see and hear such things was dangerous. What if he stopped living in the world of the real, and was drawn into that other world that only he and Torogai could see, leaving her behind?
Balsa was frightened and angry at the same time, but she hadn't actually meant to make Tanda cry. She listened to Tanda's voice in the distance for what felt like a long time. Then she stood up, gripped her torch and went back down the path. She still had to take Tanda home.
No comments:
Post a Comment