Harvest 3, 855
“Who goes th– fuck!” one guard called, starting when their light caught on the wolfdog’s black shape. Reaching for their weapons, but not drawing them, they stopped their advance. “It’s got a kid this time.”
Buu turned to watch them, blinking slowly as he tried to reconcile the previous few minutes with reality. The soldiers looked young — most likely they’d drawn the short straw for patrol duty. They carried spears, typical of Thiab troops from the never-ending plains to the west of the Aching Wood.
“He looks alive though… Hey, kid! You alive?” the taller of the pair called, apparently content not to come any closer. Buu nodded, a ripple of goosebumps blossoming across his skin as he registered the certainty behind the assumption: the dog has the kid, so the kid must be dead. He watched the wolfdog from the corner of his eye.
The beast had calmed, sitting and staring at him with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe. Its eyes glowed like fresh blown embers, spots of focus against fur that was otherwise indistinguishable from the night. Buu hadn’t realized the size of the monster at first. It loomed over him, at least as tall as Yuravi’s largest hog. Even with its mouth closed, Buu could see those long, sharp fangs peeking from its lips.
“Is General Ido with you?” the shorter soldier asked, waving the torch around to try and pierce the shadows.
“No. It’s just me.” Buu had to start the sentence twice, clearing his throat before he could force the words out. All of a sudden, his fatigue came crashing back. Not the usual kind, weakness and fever, but the collapse of a nine-year-old boy after a long day and a hard beating. He couldn’t tell if the world had started swaying, or he had.
“What are you doing out here? You should be with the others.” The taller soldier edged forward, trying to get a clearer view of Buu.
“Shit, that thing makes my spine tingle,” the other muttered, staring at the wolfdog. “Is it supposed to be this close to the village?”
“Who knows.” His companion glanced over his shoulder with a shrug. “Hey, this kid doesn’t look so good. We should get him to the doctor.”
Moving slowly, keeping one eye on the monster, the tall soldier moved behind Buu. Scooping him up with surprising tenderness, the soldier nodded to his fellow and marched back into the village. His partner swore as he hustled to keep up with them, a waver in his voice.
“Fuck — it’s following us.”
“Make it go away then.”
The shorter soldier considered this for a moment, biting his lip and walking backwards to keep the creature in his sight. A few breaths later he puckered his face, brow furrowing as he turned forward again.
“Nope. I don’t fancy seeing the campfires tonight.”
The taller soldier bobbed his head in agreement, pausing to knock on a door before pushing his way inside without waiting for an answer.
Buu’s head spun, the familiar mixing with the strange around him in a dizzying array of oddness. His uncle’s axe hung over the hearth, as always, but books and loose papers covered the table where his bag and coat usually sat. The big chair with the sheepskin had moved from its quasi-sacred spot by the hearth, placed at the head of the table instead. Strangest of all — someone had swept up the permanent dusting of wood shavings that made a fixture of Buu’s existence.
A clatter came from the small kitchen as the soldier placed Buu on one of the benches flanking the table, a woman appearing in the doorway a moment later, wiping her hands on her trousers. Buu couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a woman in their house, his presence making it awkward for his bachelor uncle to bring anyone home. He glanced around, half expecting to see his uncle leaning by the fire, then remembered that, no, his uncle would be with the other villagers. Light-headedness… Buu’s thoughts swam, his usual ritual too much for his tired mind.
Belatedly, Buu realized that the adults were talking about him, the soldier that had carried him putting a hand on his shoulder absently, drawing him back into the present. Before he could decipher the words, however, a yelp came from the house’s threshold where the shorter soldier had been loitering.
The wolfdog shoved its way inside, snarling and snapping its teeth at the soldier when he didn’t move out of the way fast enough. It glanced around Buu’s home with vague interest, nose twitching from side to side, before making its way to the hearth and pacing the length of the room.
“Get that thing out of here,” the woman ordered, unease buried beneath a layer of authority. “Where is the general?”
The taller soldier shrugged, looking longingly after his counterpart who had made a hasty exit.
“I’m not going any nearer to it than I need to. If you want to make it do something it doesn’t want to do, you’ll either need to find the general, or do it yourself.” The soldier rubbed one hand across the back of his neck, closing his eyes as he massaged some invisible ache. “It seems to like the kid. Followed us the whole way here.” The soldier gestured vaguely at Buu before returning his attention to the woman. “Do you need me in here for this?”
The woman looked from the soldier to the monster and back, some weight and balance being checked behind her eyes. “No, you can wait outside. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
The soldier nodded once before retreating, closing the door firmly behind himself, trapping Buu and the woman inside with the wolfdog. The woman released a steadying breath, smoothing her long ebony hair back before turning all her attention to Buu.
“Hi. I’m Dr Dyan , but you can call me Aru. I ’m a professor of physiological magics at Three Lakes University. What’s your name?” the woman asked. She had the impatient, frustrated air of someone who would rather be doing something else.
“Buu Yati. I’m nine,” Buu offered. Buu liked doctors — whether they succeeded or not, they always tried to make him feel better. A handful of traveling healers came through the village each year looking for custom, and Buu liked to think he knew them all. He had never met this woman before though. “Are you an army doctor?” he asked, hearing his words slur.
“I am not really that kind of doctor — I’m a researcher — but the Thavens are… borrowing a few of us for non-combat duties.” Aru’s face pinched as if she had just sucked on a sour sorrel leaf. “It’s complicated.”
“Sounds like,” Buu mumbled as Aru began poking and prodding at him. She lifted his arms, watching them fall, took his temperature, and examined each of his bruises carefully.
“What happened, Buu? Looks like you took quite the hiding.”
Buu started out of an unintentional doze . He blinked dumbly at Aru, then stared at the monster, still pacing in front of the fire. Doctor or no, he decided to keep the truth to himself. He ignored her question, countering with one of his own instead: “Why us?”
“This village? I haven’t a clue. They don’t exactly loop me into the decision-making around here,” Aru answered. Seeing his blank, disappointed stare, she added, “It’s usually either a raid for supplies, or something about the land made this place strategically valuable. Open up.” Aru tapped his chin and Buu opened his mouth obediently.
“Have you been unwell lately?” Aru asked, peering into his mouth for a moment before sitting back on her haunches and tilting her head.
The wolfdog chose that moment to release a low, irritated growl, almost bowling over Aru as she scrambled to get out of its way. It reached the closed door and continued walking as if it wasn’t there, flowing through it like water through loose cloth. A loud curse came from the far side, then silence. Aru and Buu stared after the monster, mouths agape.
Buu broke the silence, saying, “Did it just…?” He didn’t quite believe his senses.
“Go straight through a solid door? Yep.” Aru settled onto the bench beside Buu, face pale. “Not really a comforting sight, is it?” Buu shook his head.
Buu’s heartbeat had steadied by the time Aru repeated her question.
“So , have you been feeling sick lately? Or did anything unusual happen?”
Buu fidgeted, avoiding Aru’s eyes. He didn’t like the way she studied him. It made him feel more like one of the frogs Kudai would pin to logs in the summer and cut open, rather than a sick patient.
“I’ve been sick,” he admitted, once again ignoring the second part of the question.
“Uh-huh.” Aru eyed his purpling bruises skeptically. “That’s all?”
“Yeah…” Buu cleared his throat. “Why?”
“Your body isn’t responding the way I would expect with someone in your condition.”
“How would you expect it to be?” Buu peeked at Aru, seeing that frog-cutting curiosity plain on her face.
“Dead.”
Then the screaming started.
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