Porcupine Ridge The Dawn

@Hex

The man had a shadow.

Nutuyikruk skittered along the ground after the man. Leg by leg, and close enough to feel the gentle brush of tail when the spires seemed to stared down at her with beastly claws.

A question muttered out and sought Hex for an answer. "Is this where ridge people live?"

The girl was like the dawn chasing after darkness, hot at his heels, ever insistent. He did not mind. It was the way of things, and to have a youngster following him made him feel important.

He tilted his head back and answered, Yes, Nutu. We live here.

Hex trotted on, though slowly, making sure she could keep up. The two whisked through the forests of the ridge, and when they approached the rendezvous, he slowed, glancing toward her.

This is where we've settled, he told her, nodding toward the clearing.

We live here.

"Oh, thank you," followed a dour voice. She had been too bad to be deserving of any home, but they took her.

Nobody would come and take them here. The pointy teeth would ward off any tricky men. Bad spirits must have roamed these peaks, but the shadow people walked unharmed. 

In all these miles, her father never appeared, and mother never came. 

People left people and faces changed, but of the many people who had left and the people whose faces had changed, had it been Sedna who abandoned her first?

Her head lifted with caution to look over at the clearing.

"I sleep here too? ..Will the sick people come here?" 

He whirled around and shook his head emphatically, gazing solemnly down on her. No, no, he promised gravely. They won't. As long as I'm here, you'll be safe from them. 

Sickness, madness, would not enter these parts. 

This is a place where we all can be safe, Hex went on, walking the perimeter of the clearing. He gestured toward a small hollow in the shade of an old tree, indicating it'd be a nice place for her to sleep, if she wanted it. That's what I've always envisioned, anyway.

He sat nearby the nook, giving the little golden girl a curious look. Where did you come from, Nutu? he asked. Where are your mother and father?

Oh, why, she didn't know what she would do if the sick people came. They would need to leave, or worse, they would get infected all the same; however, it must have not been the worst of sicknesses.

The girl explored the tree with her eyes and moped tiredly around it, before coming to a clumsy sit with upturned hind legs.

"I don't know," was a guilty admission. Aaka, aapa.. The rock that had been her brother, the pillar that had been her sister.. But they were- Smoothed ears and a quiet mutter that would seek the shadow man. "I lost them a long, long time ago."


"A mean woman found me and took care of me at the big-big lake, but I don't think she likes me anymore ever since she had her babies." Nutuyikruk could not piece together the technicolor that was a temporary maternal mother. Even more guilty, "I don't like it there very much."

And the nice wolf Moss and the overwatching husband of Zharille, yet she had felt terribly alone. The air of the lake, it had been drowning. They were not a family.

Her story was similar to his. It was sadder, even—she'd lost both her parents, not just one. Had been adopted, then, and then seemingly discarded. . .or the girl had decided to strike out on her own in lieu of love.

I'm sorry, Hex replied. I know how you feel—my mother left when I was really young. It sucks.

But then Agrippa had taken him in, a buoy in the turbulent sea of emotions that came with abandonment. Perhaps he could be this girl's Agrippa—

In some ways, if not others.

You still hungry? he asked her, feeling suddenly awkward. I can fetch you something from the cache, or I can let you sleep. Up to you.

Nutuyikruk did not remember much. She remembered that the stars came out at night, and that the moon set to raise the sun. That one upon a time, she had a brother, a sister. That aaka smiled brightly, but at many paws of length. That aapa fizzled away much the same, and that there had been deep love anyways. And more vividly, she remembered..

"I'm sorry. I hope you feel a lot-lot better." What pain Hex must have suffered. Empathy swarmed her, and the girl nodded to her own words.

"It hurts to lose your family, doesn't it?"

It hurt, but maybe it hurt a little less to know there was someone else out there who had been dealt the same cards as you.

"You must feel how I feel."

A front paw swung along the ground. "I'm not very hungry, I don't think, but thank you very much for asking, sir." Tired, but then it struck her it could have been him who was hungry. "Would you like me to bring you something instead if you're hungry, mister?" Yet lately, Nutu always felt tired.

Did he? He didn't. Not worse, though. Just. . .different. The heartache and confusion of Jakoul's initial departure had formed into this dull pit in his stomach—always there, but no more troublesome than a meal that disagreed with him.

Thanks—it gets better, Hex answered her. There was a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth, though his expression remained neutral. You learn to live with it.

But her offer did manage to coax a genuine—if muted—look of happiness upon his face. He shook his head. No, but thank you very much, Nutu, he said softly. Get some sleep. I'll show you around some more when you're up again.

For the first time since Agrippa, he felt as if he had care of something—someone. The Ridge was old, wild; it would care for itself with or without his stewardship.

The girl, though. . .she needed him. Them.

And he was beginning to think that he needed her, too.