Friends (2013) - Adams, Robert

“A cuckold, as you damned well know, woman!”

“You son of a bitch! You knew all about that when we got married. Otherwise why would 1 have married the likes of you?”

Peetuh’s hand snaked out, and Behtee went sprawling. “Woman, I’ll deal with you later!”

He turned back to Djoh and yelled, “Take off that shirt! Now!”

Djoh yanked his shirt off so fast a seam ripped.

“Turn around!”

Djoh turned around. The first lash landed seconds later, so hard that it knocked the breath out of his lungs. The second one knocked him to his knees. His father swung again, but he heard a loud scream as the third lash bit into his shoulder.

“You bastard! Hit him again and I’ll leave you! Even if it means selling myself on the streets of Blue Springs!”

Djoh turned. His father was hunched over as if he were taking a beating himself. “Arrrhhhhhh!” he shouted, throwing the whip down. Then he ran out of the barn, not meeting his wife’s or his son’s eyes.

Behtee half crawled, half walked over to Djoh and cradled his head in her arms. “My beautiful boy, don’t worry. He won’t whip you again. 1 promise, I promise. I should have done this a long time ago.”

Djoh’s head spun with questions, but his throat hurt too much to let any words out. Then uncontrollable tears began to stream down his face as he buried his head against his mother’s bosom.

Iron Claw watched intently as the doe’s hooves bit through the thin ice crust around the pool. He continued to mindcall soothing reassurances as the doe slowly moved into striking distance, two body lengths away. He’d been here for two days and nights, trying unsuccessfully to ignore his growing hunger and painful body, patiently waiting for his next meal. He couldn’t survive another two-day fast.

His luck had been bad ever since One Eye drove him out of the pride. In spite of his lead, the younger cat had trailed him for five days and four nights. It seemed that the son had learned the father’s lessons about making sure opponents never came back.

Now Iron Claw was lost, farther north than he’d ever traveled before. His wounds and hunger made feeding himself desperately important, and this had brought him to the pool.

During the first few days, game had been plentiful and he’d eaten well. Few of the animals here had ever seen a prairiecat his size. But his wounds made him clumsy, too many would-be meals escaped, and far too quickly his presence was known and feared. If he’d been thinking clearly, he’d have moved on at least four days ago. He hadn’t wanted to leave his half-completed den, though, and now it was too late.

The doe moved another two cautious steps. Iron Claw felt his heart beginning to race, preparing for the great leap. Then the doe paused, sniffing the air. Iron Claw willed his heart to slow down and tried to send a message of serenity, peace, and safety. The doe made a tentative half-step. Iron Claw felt his left hind leg begin its familiar throbbing.

With surprising speed, the doe leaped to the edge of the pond and put her head down to drink. Like most animals, she preferred water to snow when she had a choice.

Iron Claw was digging in for his final leap when his bad leg gave way, throwing him off balance. He landed on his side, with enough noise to alert the doe. She sprang into the air and in a moment was nothing but a patch of brown and white bobbing in the distance.

Iron Claw let out a roar of anger and frustration that silenced the forest. Then he slowly limped back to his den. Maybe there was still some meat left on that scrap of rabbit skin he could so clearly remember from an earlier meal?

Everything had changed and nothing would ever be the same. That single thought went around and around in Djoh’s head as he approached the forest. His father had sent him to mark some trees for cutting and dressing, but it seemed to Djoh that this was more to get him out of his father’s sight. They already had more than a year’s supply of lumber stacked outside the bam.

His father had been even more silent than usual since the incident at Oskah’s farm. For the most part he acted as if Djoh weren’t even there. At first Djoh enjoyed the anonymity, until sheer boredom drove him to confronting his father and asking for some work. This makeshift tree-marking was all he’d been given.

Hazel, the old mare he was allowed to ride, suddenly reared up and tried to turn. Djoh pulled on the reins and mindspoke soothing emotions to calm her down. What was spooking her, anyway?

He dismounted and walked slowly through the trees, all his senses alert. Then his mind heard something discordant—a searing edge of pain, new and old pain mixed together, along with hunger and rage. He began to move more cautiously.

He would have missed the den if it hadn’t been for the paw he spotted out of the comer of his eye. It was the largest paw he’d ever seen, ten times the size of a bobcat’s paw. He’d heard tales all his life from occasional travelers about the great prairiecats, but he’d never believed them until now.

As Djoh moved closer, he could make out the great head. It was still, except for an occasional movement as its breath rattled. What was a prairiecat doing in these parts? What was wrong with it?

And shouldn’t he be running like hell rather than standing here spying on a creature that could gut him with one swipe of that paw?

He was about to do exactly that when the cat’s huge yellow eyes opened and it mindspoke.

“Who are you, two-legs? And what are you doing near my den?”

Djoh remember one traveler’s telling about how to address the cats. It couldn’t do any harm, at least.

“Forgive me, cat-brother. I mean you no harm. I heard that someone was hungry and in pain, so I came to find out who.”

“Two-legs! More nose for trouble than head for safety!” A spasm shook the cat’s body.

“Is it you that needs help?” Djoh mindspoke. He was almost sure it was. The cat’s mindcall was surprisingly weak, and layered with pain, hunger, and exhaustion.

The cat shook its great head. “1 have not eaten a real meal for more 1than fifteen days. It seems that I will soon go to Wind.”

“Maybe I can help,” said Djoh.

The cat’s laugh rumbled in his mind. “I see no weapons, and I suspect that your true calling is far from that of a hunter.”

For once Djoh wished he had one of the big fortress crossbows, like the one at Oskah’s farm. But the carpenter’s family did well to have the longbows and pikes that mostly hung over the fireplace, except when the local trained band held its annual muster after the harvest. The only time Djoh could remember it mustering any other time was four years ago, and then the rumored band of river pirates never appeared.

“I have a hunting bow, back with my horse. They say I’m a good shot.”

“I hope you speak the truth, two-legs. Otherwise there is little that you can do for me.” The cat’s mindspeak faded away as it slipped into an uneasy sleep.

It took Djoh an hour’s ride and four hours of hunting before he bagged a large badger. He gutted it and threw it on the horse. Hazel wasn’t happy about the extra load but did carry him back to the big cat’s den. He unloaded the badger and dragged it to within reach.

The cat’s mindspeak was even weaker, but Djoh heard the sarcasm clearly. “A nice morsel, two-legs, but I’ll need more than this to Fill my belly.”

“Be thankful for what you have, old grouch. This is the biggest badger I’ve ever seen in these parts. Even for you it should be a meal.”

“Perhaps you speak the truth,” said the cat, between bites that quickly grew lustier. He’d finished less than a third of the badger when he stopped. “I fear my belly has shrunk even more than my eyesight. I still owe you thanks, two-legs.” “Your thanks are weil received, cat-brother, but my name is Djoh, son of Peetuh, not two-legs. What is your name?” Iron Claw paused. He seemed to expect something more, and Djoh ransacked his memory for hints of what it might be. The memory that finally helped him was not of travelers or prairiecats, but of their old tom watching over his mate and her last litter. He also remembered his mother, with tears in her eyes, cleanly breaking the old tom’s neck when he was dying slowly in constant pain.

“I will care for your kittens and your mate while she is nursing them. If you are dying, I will send you quickly to—to Wind.”

The cat’s approval flowed over Djoh like a warm bath, and with it came a name!

“Iron Claw. I am called Iron Claw, and legion have been my mates and kittens. By sharing names and giving the oath, we are now truly brothers.”

Djoh realized that he’d been granted a very special honor by this magnificent creature. He cleared the snow from a patch of ground, sat down on his cloak, and listened to Iron Claw’s tale of its—no, his —flight from the prairie.

During the next week Djoh spent almost as much time hunting as marking trees for his father. He suspected this suited his father well enough. Everyone was on edge around the house. His parents spoke to each other even less than usual, Nee seemed afraid of her father and solicitous of Djoh’s welfare, and Lilia cried at the least provocation. Peetuh ignored his son, and Behtee seemed to avoid being left alone with him.

It wasn’t until one night when his father returned from a trip to town that they had any real conversation.

“How’s the marking and culling coming?”

“Well enough, Father. It’ll probably take another week, though.”

His father looked away. They both knew that it was a three-day job at best. Does he even wonder what I’ve been doing out in the forest all that time? Djoh asked himself. Or doesn’t he care anymore?

Not that Djoh was complaining. Iron Claw was still too weak to hunt. Another couple of weeks, though, would give him back enough strength to seek prey on his own.

“I’m glad you’re doing such a thorough job, Djoh. Just stay away from the river. Heard in town the pirates are out early this year. Big Everly and his crew lost their barge and all their gear to the pirates. Everly was cut up bad, and three of his crew didn’t make it back at all. He says there was more of ’em than he’d seen in one crowd in twenty years of bargin’.

“There’s two other boats missin’ besides. Council’s put out ordei's that no one’s to leave the wharf without permission. They’re thinkin’ of gettin’ all the boats together and makin’ a convoy.”

Djoh whistled. This was more excitement than Blue Springs normally got in ten years. “What about the militia?”

“Council’s callin’ out one man in four, right now. I’m one of ’em, so I’ll be stayin’ in town for a while. Djoh, you’re goin’ to have to come home early and keep an eye out for the womenfolk.”