The People
July 8th, 2007
We were all there. Those of us who were left. Our camp sharded in a few more directions than normal, slicing through a convenience store, a suburb, a salon. The other folk walked like shadows through us, buying and preening; we remained unperceived.
I walked with her through the trees, pausing only occasionally now, to stretch, to examine some unfamiliar herb or peer upward at a vine blooming high above. We moved in circular swaths, radiating from the entry point, moving quietly.
You’ll have to do better than that, she mentioned inaudibly.
My question showed on my face; she continued. We won’t find him at this pace. And you’re making enough noise to frighten an elephant – give him credit for some caution, even when you have none. This way.
Her tone was wry, but she meant her words. She quite floated over the leaves and scrubby grass, twice as fast as we’d been going. I hadn’t learned the knack, yet, so I stepped as lightly as I was able, and tried to keep the newness from catching my eyes so.
(hunt, hunt)
And there he was, like the light bounced off a passing car’s mirror, then gone. She hissed in her teeth, and redoubled her speed. I started to pant. He drew us on, or we pushed him on, for quite a way. He was beautiful, like a red peacock or a dragon in a museum tapestry. He warmed to us fair quick, I thought. Rather than taking to his wings, he let himself be chased, even doubling back to rush at our legs. When he darted toward my ankles, clicking his head rapidly back and forth, I could see the intricate designs in gold, teal, and plum in the feathers of his head and tail. I couldn’t stifle my small laugh; he was like my brother Isan, who loved playing tag in the meadow when the skies were clear, but would run shrieking from whomever was nearest – even when he was it. The bubbling happiness rising from his ground-level antics was so exactly like Isan’s.
My laugh, though, seemed to disturb the phoenix. He darted away, flustering his wings, and skittered out of sight, though he stayed within hearing. She threw me a look, then a smile. We were almost to the camp.
We heard them coming, and had time to melt into the background like I’d practiced. They were even more incautious than I’d been: clomping in dark combat boots, speaking aloud. They were speaking of the phoenix, though I didn’t know their language. Their thoughts were foreign, too; images flashed and wavered, shapes and forms as unfamiliar as any I’d met. But some, in the usual way, were clear – their excitement for the hunt, one man’s anger at a reprimand not long before. The other’s thoughts of his lover.
They were here for the phoenix, and from the methodical, correct way my companion was calling to our guards and watchmen, I got the feeling it would be quite bad if they succeeded. She looked at me, and nodded towards the west. I blinked, then concentrated. The two hunters’ minds were oddly receptive; they followed their hunches easily, and it took less than a minute to send them away in the proper direction.
I lay in my hammock, idly folding scrap paper from the ream someone’d charmed to stay filled. The golden glow of late afternoon was fading, and the camp was humming with activity. There were more shadowpeople than usual, but it was one of their holidays, so that was all right. I thought at first that the two visitor girls were more of them; they were dressed in the multiple layers and skinny jeans fashionable at the time, their studiedly disordered hair could have come directly from the beauty shop, and they kept looking around in interest at the obviously unfamiliar everydays of our camp.
They were really there, though; someone was dispatched to make them welcome. I watched them through my hammock, commenting on this or that. They were not interesting, so I went back to my paper. A small bubble of excitement, mixed with anxiety, came across my thoughts. I looked down at the baby rabbit nibbling near my discarded shoes. The phoenix had, for some reason, come with us after all, and now took a less spectacular form. His ears waggled, and I smiled.
It was a fun morning, yeah?
You have no idea, he replied.
“Oh, what a cute bunny!” the girl with blonde braids said, coming near. “Where’d you get her?” asked the older one. I looked up at them; their faces, voices, thoughts were familiar. Their eyes looked hard and bright, and far too interested.
I ran, holding a knapsack – always keep one packed and accessible – over one shoulder, and the infant rabbit in my hand. I was too frightened too notice that I’d finally gotten skimming right; I fled with no more sound than my ragged breath. The rabbit was light, and almost fluttering with delight. I felt impatient; no matter how powerful he was, no one’s invincible. He was less anxious now than when we were at the camp! And we had who knew how many of all kinds of magical folk after us, and I didn’t even know where we were. I’d somehow been jumping between shards all night, going from city crosswalks to cattle pastures to trailer parks and then back to the familiar forest, and we could be anywhere.
I stopped to catch my breath. I set the phoenix – still an adorably fragile-looking rabbit – carefully on the ground and leaned over with my hands on my knees. The roaring in my ears kept up unabated for several minutes; I pressed my hand against the stitch in my side and concentrated firmly on nothing.
The cow arrived without warning. She was huge – larger than any other moose I’d seen – and incredibly quiet. I waited; I wasn’t entirely familiar with their etiquette, but I’d gathered the guest generally spoke first, and the moose of course was always given precedence. But then, I’d never been in this particular situation before, so the rules could be different.
She lowered her nose and took a while before speaking. We’ve been waiting for you. I blinked, but still remained silent. Her mind speech was almost as foreign as the hunters’ had been, also clipped and dry, sophisticated. This seemed all that she would say.
A bull arrived then, coming into the clearing and nearly filling it. They stepped gingerly around the rabbit, who was happily eating something or other. I think you’d better leave him with us for now, he said, in a deeper version of the cow’s precise language. You don’t need any more complications.
The deer – it was a deer in the dream – actually spoke a bit about the hunters. They were German, and they and their people were of the opinion that we should “go back to when all countries had armies”.
And then I woke up. But wouldn’t it be a fun beginning for a story? I’ll have to see where it goes.
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