4. The road (II)

The cheetah absented herself for a bit, he supposed to do her business, and when she returned let it be known that it was time to move on. She made no objection when the dogs, without waiting to be invited, shook off the dust and followed close behind. They gamboled about between Oren's strides, first one then another taking the lead, though Marta would now and then lunge and snap at her companions testily to make it clear who was boss. They had set out in the direction of the near shore of the lake, an opaque muddy green expanse in the morning sun. In daylight, as they descended from the knoll, he could see now that this body of water was much longer than it was across, and that a wide plain in fact separated it from the peaks that had appeared, in twilight, to descend right to its far edge. As they came onto level ground the lake disappeared from view for a time; in the otherwise featureless terrain he could tell, from the angle of their approach to the summits beyond, that they were continuing on the same course, though he didn't know whether the cat was taking her bearing by the same method or from other signs in the landscape that were unrecognizable to him.

After a half-hour's walk there was a subtle change in vegetation, the dry and brittle grass mixing with a low, loose tangle of waxy green vines that his feet shredded as they swung through. There was a new sound as well, the hoarse rasping and creaking of a numberless host of grasshoppers that flew up at the approach of the travellers and then settled again, a few yards away, to resume their song. The dogs slowed, peering intently into the weeds, and the cheetah, looking behind, cut her pace as well. First Pharos, then Marta, then finally Wawet pounced, then pounced again, until each had seized a struggling insect in their teeth. With a few quick crunches and grimaces they devoured their prey, then immediately began to stalk another.

Lucinda sat, watching the dogs, but made no move to share their repast. Oren stood, amused by the comical disproportion between the dogs' ferocious leaps and the size of their catch, until Pharos paused a moment in his hunting and suggested he join them.

“They say they're not bad, actually,” Lucinda chimed in. “You might as well. There'll be no other food today, in any case.”

His reservations overcome by hunger, he took up the chase, clumsily to begin with, until he seized hold of his first prize. He held the wriggling body up to his face, regarding it for a moment creature to creature, then closed his eyes as he popped the grasshopper between his teeth, crunching rapidly to suppress its furious motions. To his surprise, the taste was not nearly as repellant as he expected. The extremities were unpleasantly scratchy and dry, but he soon perfected a technique of nabbing an insect, severing its head with a quick bite, then removing the unpalatable wings and legs with his fingers at leisure before consuming the rest.

They slowly made headway as they hunted, the dogs and Oren joking and laughing as they crashed through the weeds and filled their bellies, until the cat began to draw ahead of them and they hastened to catch up. The lake was not far off now. The near shallows were lined, in both directions as far as he could see, with slender reeds whose tips were nodding in a halfhearted breeze. There a few small islands far out, a hundred yards long at most, and beyond them, near the opposite shore, a few waterfowl were floating on the waves. As they reached the water's edge, the dogs barrelled joyfully through the reeds, sending up great sheets of water, then paddled out and swam parallel to the shore for several minutes before emerging, exhausted, satisfied, and shaking water off their backs, to recline in the grass and dry in the sun. Lucinda took no part in their play, but did step down to the water for a long drink. He joined her, removing his shoes and wading in the soft mud nearby.

It was soon midday. Even along the water the sun was becoming intense and oppressive, but Lucinda did not let them rest for long. They skirted the reeds, heading north along what he was surprised to discover was a broad straight causeway that paralleled the shore. Here and there he saw wheeltracks in the dirt, but they were not new and already tiny spikes of grass were rising from the ruts where the earth had been scraped bare. The dogs were quieter now; they had fallen back a few yards and were travelling with heads lowered, panting in the heat. Now and then they would break off, cool themselves in the lake for a moment, then trot ahead until they had caught up again. The cheetah didn't bother, and kept to an even pace that Oren found he could manage as well, as long as he kept his mind focused on their journey and not on the heat.

In late afternoon, as the glare of the day began to cede to a hazy sunset, he caught sight of something moving towards them along the opposite shore, heading south. It was some time before he could make out what it was, or what it appeared to be: a great beast of burden, of a kind he had never before encountered, bearing a half dozen or so shrouded human figures on its back. The animal belonged to no order of quadruped known to him. Entirely coated in long, dark fur, it was several times the length of a horse, but of no greater girth. It moved with a ponderous, halting gait, though on account of the great length of its spindly legs it nevertheless covered ground quickly. The most peculiar thing about it was its long, whiskered head, which seemed equal parts rodent, canine, and bird, and bore an expression — as far as he could judge from the distance — of both fathomless sorrow and utter stupidity.

He tried to hail the riders, but it was impossible; no sound could travel across the lake's breadth, and they showed no sign of spying him and his companions. The dogs regarded the strange party with evident interest, but did not break stride. Lucinda, on the other hand, never gave them so much as a glance, and before long beast and riders had disappeared into the distance and the onrushing dark.

May 12, 2007

Copyright © 2007 Chris Kearin. All rights reserved.