Chapter Two
The image of a dark wetness washed Boongar, and the boy screamed and flailed desperately. He finally opened his eyes, breathing heavily from the nightmare.
Immediately he realized his surroundings were different; he sat on a low matter devoid of the straw he usually slept on, and the walls had the texture of wood and instead of the familiar clay surface. Boongar finally took note of the ornate curtain that ran the entire length of the space he was in, and Boongar finally scratched his head.
“Where am I?” he whispered.
Then slowly, as he carefully stood on his weak feet, the memories came flooding back. Screams, gunshots, shouts. Blood.
Boongar paused. He felt something solid in his hand and looked at it. The red knife of the Ekandel was still in his grasp. Boongar suddenly felt a resurge of strength as if the fresh memories brought him back to the middle of his village. “Mother. Father…” Now Boongar finally remembered the past minutes of his life. He was just about to be swallowed by the waters along with the other children, and what became of them gnawed at Boongar’s being.
I’m the chief’s son. I’m the next in line to lead my people. Where are my people?
Boongar decided removing this obstacle before would be the first step in solving his problems, and pulling back the curtains, he saw someone a few paces away tending to what looked like pots on a fire. He couldn’t see much of her, but noticed that she was short, and an energetic tail swung behind her.
Just as Boongar was about to speak, Gishky turned around, looking at Boongar. She smiled, and said, “I see you’re finally up.”
Boongar nodded, despite a non-human being looking at him.
Gishky said, “You speak common tongue boy?”
Boongar nodded.
“I asked you a question?” said Gishky.
“Y-Yes,” said Boongar.
Gishky placed the cover on the pot and walked away from it. She approached the boy, who made just one step back, looking up at the female. Gishky saw his body slowly swaying from his depleted strength. “I found you near a river. Where are you from?”
Boongar said, “…The plains. I’m Boongar Zak-Ekandel. I’m…the son of the chief…”
Gishky pursed her lips and rubbed her chin. “Well I’ll be damned—the son of a chief. You were screaming in your sleep. What happened to you?”
Boongar hung his head.
Gishky saw the knife still in his hand, and wondered what its use was for prior to her finding him. She gently touched his shoulder, and Boongar backed away. “What happened, boy?” she said.
“They came for us,” droned Boongar. “The Red Jackals. My father fought them, while my mother and I, and the rest of us ran.”
Gishky had a fixed stare on the human child. The utter of their names stuck spikes in her mind. “The Red Jackals, huh? Those are some nasty folks last I checked.” Gishky started to paint a clear picture of what led the boy here. No doubt he came from over the mountain, and guessing where she found him, he took the quickest route. “Shit…” Gishky chuckled.
Boongar looked up at her, to which Gishky said, “You actually came down the waterfall, huh?”
Boongar nodded. “The other children and I. Did you see any of them—my tribe?”
Gishky said, “You were the only one I found. I had to stop a sarchus from eating you too.”
Boongar rubbed his head. “My tribe…it’s gone.” Boongar felt a hotness in his nasal cavity, and his eyes welled. “My…my parents…”
The first tear fell down his cheek and Boongar wiped his eyes. Gishky, however, felt indifferent to his struggle. Her concern was an orphaned child and what she would do with him. Initially she’d thought about selling him to a circus or some slavers when she saw him, but when he mentioned his tribe being raided, it slapped a sense of guilt in her face for even having entertained the idea in the first place. Now Gishky had to think of another way to exploit the situation.
In the meantime, the sobs of the boy were really annoying. “Hey!” she barked
Boongar flinched. He looked up at Gishky, her images blurred by the water in his eyes. Gishky knelt before him. “Stop crying now, you’re alive. As long as I’m here, the Red Jackals can’t get in the house to kill you. Understand?”
Boongar nodded, then said, “Yes…”
Gishky touched his cheek. Boongar didn’t pull away. “Good.” Gishky stood. “Now, I know you’re probably hungry, so I made you something to eat. I—”
Someone called to Gishky from outside. She turned to the door with an inquisitive but knowing air. “Who the hell’s that?” She heard the person, and the voice became familiar. Gishky said to Boongar, “You stay right here,” and she opened the door and stepped outside.
As Gishky thought, it was her neighbors; Donkek and a slender woman with reptilian features and cat-like ears. Gishky approached the gate where they eagerly waited on her on the other side. “Hey.”
“Is it true?” the woman said.
“What’s true, Wellen?” Gishky replied.
“The human,” said Donkek. “The one you were carrying yesterday. What happened to it?”
Gishky said, “He’s inside my house.”
“He?” said Wellen.
“He’s a boy,” said Gishky.
“I would wish you congratulations, but what the hell are you doing with a human in your house?” said Wellen.
“Where did you even find him?” said Donkek
Gishky wasn’t interested in detailing her business to everyone, but she needed to get things under control before tall tales and rumors started to spread. “I was checking down the river for any good farming grounds when I found him near the water. I couldn’t just leave him there—what if humans passed through and saw one of their dead kind in our territory?”
But Gishky didn’t get a reply from the two, instead their eyes were glued to something over her shoulder. Gishky turned around and saw Boongar looking at them through a space in the doorframe. Gishky said with an alarmed tone, “Hey, shut the door and get back inside! Now!”
The boy quickly closed the door. Gishky sighed and rubbed her head. “I don’t know what I got myself into,” she murmured.
“Can he talk?” said Donkek.
Gishky said, “He can speak common tongue. But I don’t much about him. He only just woke up. If anybody else sticks their nose around tell them I’m planning to give the human off to some orphanage.”
“Really?” inquired Wellen.
“Probably,” said Gishky. “I don’t know yet. I need time.”
Donkek said, “Well whenever you need to get in contact with some slavers, I know a few guys.”
Gishky nodded slowly. “Yeah.” She walked away, back to her house. “I’ll talk to you all later. I need to deal with this kid.”
Gishky went inside and closed the door. She found Boongar standing, waiting on her.
“You don’t know how to share your own food?” said Gishky.
Boongar’s eyes darted around nervously. “I…”
Gishky scoffed. “Forget it. Go find a seat.”
Boongar looked around and hurriedly sat on the nearby bench. Gishky shared him a bowl and handed it to the young boy. Without another word he started scarfing down his meal. Gishky watched the boy, her curiosity still piped. She had never been so close to a human child before, and wanted to know more. But based on what she saw so far, there wasn’t much difference between them and ferrans—except their baldness.
Once Boongar was finished eating, Gishky put away his plate and sat him down. “You’ll have to do work around the house while you’re here,” she said.
Boongar said, “Work around the house?”
Gishky nodded.
Boongar said, “That’s…women’s work…”
Gishky’s eyes pried so wide that they seemed ready to pop out of her head. “What?”
Boongar said, “In my tribe, the women tend to the crops and the homes, while the men hunt for meat and go to war—”
Gishky flicked his nose with her finger. “Like hell you’re going to tell me how to run my house, boy. Either you do what I say or you get out of my house. Got it?”
Boongar rubbed his nose and nodded.
Gishky held his cheek. “Good boy. Now if you do what I say, you and I will get along just fine.”
For the remainder of his stay, Boongar acted according to the activities Gishky had laid out for him, helping with baking and stacking the goods and sweeping around the yard. Whenever Gishky went out to the market, it was Boongar’s duty to see to the safety of their home, and he would often patrol the trees around their home with his knife and a stick Gishky made for him. Usually his foes were small predators looking for scraps, but more than once Boongar had spotted the electites peeping in on his abode, but none ever approached. The nights were spent with Gishky forcing Boongar to read articles to get his vocabulary in shape before she gave him a sweet treat for him to go to bed with.
But Boongar wasn’t limited to household duties, and as the days passed, Boongar became more active outside, having small interactions with the residents whenever he and Gishky went out looking for ingredient for her cakes. Boongar noticed more curious stares and question directed at Gishky rather than any actual acknowledgement, but he didn’t mind. Boongar had to focus on enduring the days before he gathered enough strength to move on. He was still the son of the chief, and a chief needed to act as if the entire world was his fiefdom.
Though, he was learning quickly that ferran females weren’t as easily tamed as those of his tribe thanks to Gishky. Despite his many complaints of being unable to roam the forests, hunt rats and make battle tools, Gishky wouldn’t lengthen the leash she had on him, and his movements outside the house was still restricted to being with the older woman’s company.
One day Boongar found himself home alone, with nothing but greenery and the neighboring critters crying around him. The sunlight was modest, and cool shade from the trees danced shadows around him. Boongar was in the front yard practicing with his knife from the little his father taught him. Yet without his guidance, Boongar couldn’t properly execute the quick movements, the strikes and slashes. But never did it cross Boongar’s mind to stop. He was still young, and in time, he thought, he would get the hang of it.
Boongar wore a simple tunic and shorts Gishky bought for him from the market, but chose to go barefoot unless he was stepping outside the yard. He’d been working at it to the point where beads of sweat lingered on his skin. Finally, Boongar did a wild strike, as if imagining one of the Red Jackals before him, and ended his training with a phrase. “Dear forefathers, guide me to divine retribution.”
Then Boongar suddenly heard the pipe running. He froze, then turned around. “Who is that?”
The boy carefully put his prized knife in his pocket, clutched the club from off the wall and crept to the edge of it. Boongar carefully peered around the wall and saw two electites fetching water from the pipe into hollowed out coconuts.
“Fiends…” Boongar whispered. Gishky had warned him about them, and now they had become bold enough to set foot into the yard a second time. Boongar realized one was male and the other female, but that was the least of his concerns. Gishky said that this was his home, and a man didn’t let anyone just violate the privacy of his dwelling. But there also the possibility of proving to Gishky his worth. If he could kill or capture one of the electites, probably the ferran woman give him some leeway.
The electites individually were a little smaller than him, but the two of them could easily overpower Boongar if he failed to knock one out before the other. Boongar recited his small prayer, and with his small hands firmly wrapped around the blunt implement, Boongar screamed and ran from behind the house.
Of course, a novice to battle, Boongar’s screaming alerted the monsters to his location before he could reach them, and the electites, clutching the coconuts, made a quick retreat for fence where they’d covered their new hole with leaves. Then Boongar suddenly realized they were getting away, and flung the club. The projectile clobbered the male electite in the back and the female yelped and fell.
Boongar took out his knife and hurriedly went to finish the job. The electite got up and hopped away from Boongar. They snarled and growled, trying to slash each other with knife and claws. Boongar had the longer reach and managed to poke the female near her breast, making her yelped and give off spark—sparks that startled Boongar and had him wincing.
“Stinking human!” the electite said, and her fur frizzled with electricity as she gave chase. Boongar ran away as fast as he could from her, feeling the hairs on his body stand. However, the electite did a U-turn and went for the fence. Boongar didn’t have the balls to engage her this time, and sullenly watched the electites escape into the trees. Boongar felt a mix of anger and relief. He wanted to prove his worth, but at this rate, he would only end up dead before his time.
Boongar looked at his prized knife, quizzically. “I need a bigger weapon.”
While Boongar was at home tangling with the electite, Gishky had taken transportation into Wirewick Town, a ferran settlement just two miles beyond the market. Ferrans were put into isolated communities due to persecution from the ignorant side of humanity, so even the smallest ferran town tried its best to be self-sufficient and liaise with the other communities in which ever region they were located in. Some tried to get protection under the law of human society by paying taxes; which brought with it access to medical facilities, libraries and protection under the law. However, still they were secluded, finding more freedom amongst their own. Which brought Gishky into the town, seeking government registration.
The buildings here were made from sturdy concrete as opposed to wood, and the roads were paved with a mix of malt and cobblestone. Most vehicles were animal drawn, however there were some motorized method of transportation available as well. Walking along the side of the street, Gishky marveled at one of them, thinking how easy her travels would be. But to acquire such a tool would require capital that selling cakes would take years to accomplish. For now, however, Gishky decided to complete the first step in getting there.
She came upon the Rifle Registry office, opening the doors to a lime green colored interior where several men and woman sat or stood, waiting to be serviced at the counter. Gishky joined a line and folded her arms as she waited. To qualify for a license, Gishky had to provide a sample as reference. Most ferrans, due to the variety in their species, didn’t have fingerprints, and instead a sample of their blood was required.
Each applicant was to give seven drops of blood on a piece of paper that was taken by medical personnel at the front desk. It was taken from the wrist, poked with a needle after an application of a numbing agent. The droplets were collected and the wound dressed. The applicant was instructed to wait until their name was added to the registry, and after which they would be given their license. After twenty minutes, Gishky’s name was finally called, and she was given her badge; containing her date of birth, place of birth and a blood smear. The scent of the blood smear lasted for sixteen months, which then the holder would need to apply for a new one.
But Gishky was one step closer.
With her license secured, Gishky decided to sweeten the mood by purchase a pistol, and walked throughout the town looking for one. She asked around, and got the direction of the rifle store from a woman selling supposed magical charms. Gishky walked along the roadside of potted flowers when her sensitive ears picked up a very interesting conversation. She stopped near a window and looked inside at the items being sold, however she was keenly listening to the conversation coming from the alley.
One of the men, a grazzleta like Donkek, said, “They usually come through the market looking for young ferran girls and boys to buy, but their main target’s humans.”
The other man said, “So where would we find humans around here? The only ones are the merchants that pass through the market. And they don’t bring their children around us like that.”
The grazzleta groaned and shrugged. “Beats me,” he said. “You asked about slave-traders and I’m just telling you about them.”
The other man said, “I need some good produce. Catching electites and derlkia aren’t cutting it. My buyers need more illegal stuff for the thrill.”
Their conversation diverted to prostitutes, but Gishky had heard enough and walked away. She was pleased to hear there was a market for young humans, and the same time, the image of a small being mounted by a huge man was stomach churning. Gishky rubbed her head and sighed. Unfortunately, she wasn’t complete scum enough to cast Boongar to such a fate.
Once again, she would have to go back home to her human housemate. “I hope he hasn’t eaten all the fruits.”
Boongar’s encounter with the electite made him aware of the flaws in his current battle readiness, and he sought a way to curb that. This brought the young boy out onto the streets of the community.
He passed a ferran woman carrying a basket of fish and said, “Good morning man…”
The woman looked at him annoyingly before walking off. Boongar’s smile fell. He was used to the compliments from the women in his village; being the chief’s son and all. But here his accolades meant nothing to these strange people. Boongar almost felt his body collapsing under his sorrow, but he remembered to keep focused on hope and kept on walking.
He came upon Donkek’s house, careful not to get too close to the gate. From this distance Boongar could see Donkek in his shop hammering away at head of an axe before the burning furnace. The scent of burning wood hung heavy, a smell Boongar kind of found pleasant.
“…Um…Mr. Donkek!” said Boongar.
The man stopped just as he was about the hit the axe and turned to the gate. Boongar saw him hesitate, then toss his tools down and slowly get up. The closer he got the clearer his grimace became, and Donkek rested his hand on the gate and said, “What do you want boy?”
Boongar said, “I…wanted to buy a spear. I want to use it against the monsters in my yard. The electites. I fought one and it shocked me.”
And Donkek threw back his head and laughed. Boongar’s face puckered, and he clenched his fists. Donkek said, “Ha! I guess you’re scared now.”
“I’m not afraid!” said Boongar. “I want to fight. I want a spear.”
“And where the hell would you get money for a spear?” said Donkek.
Boongar reached into his pocket and gestured four silver coins to Donkek, watching with a brief air of satisfaction as Donkek frowned. “I have money. See.”
“Where did you get that?” said Donkek.
“Gishky gave me—it’s my allow…allooo…allowance,” said Boongar.
Boongar was confident now that he could secure the spear. There was no reason for Donkek to refuse money. Little did Boongar know about how much hatred could extend, and learned when he heard Donkek say, “Gishky didn’t give you that money. You stole it.”
“I didn’t steal the money,” said Boongar. “She gave it to me!”
Donkek scoffed. “Lying humans. You always steal everything. I’m not selling you anything.” Donkek walked away. “Get away from my gate!”
Boongar stood dejectedly watching Donkek walk away. He stepped away from the gate, wondering what to do, though eventually Boongar’s young mind decided that home would be the best place to be right now. A few tears fell from his eyes on his way back, which he quickly wiped away. When he returned home Boongar only gave the yard a brief glimpse before walking into the house. He sat down, and assuaged his depression with some of the dried fruits Gishky told him not to eat.
Then the epiphany came, and Boongar sat up with a renewed vigor. The solution was simple. He had an axe, a knife, and his perfectly functioning arms and legs Why not simply make his own spear?
Boongar got up and fetched the axe from the shelf. He stepped outside, smiling that he’d overcame the problem. He turned to the trees near his yard, and finding the smallest plant his muscles could easily best, Boongar chopped the tree down. It was one four meters long and five inches thick. Boongar hacked the stick into three pieces, and took the length he found suitable back home. He sat down and stripped it of its bark, then shaped the head into a formidable point.
The whole process took less than two hours, and Boongar finally stood with the spear at his side. Boongar almost felt like one of the men in his tribe, still, he couldn’t be satisfied unless he found a way to test the might of his new tool. And the boy took one more trek outside.
This time Boongar had his sights on securing prey, but not just any rabbit or bird would do. He needed substantial game that would sure to impress anyone. Boongar crept through the brush with his eyes peeled. More than once Gishky warned about the predators, not that Boongar hadn’t seen his fair share of monsters. Soon his efforts produce a large boar munching its way through some bushes.
Boongar flexed his fingers on his spear. He had to be smart. The animal could easily rip him to shreds. Boongar looked around, and found the best way to kill his prey. Boongar took up a stone and tossed it towards the boar. The animal’s ears flicked and stood up, and it raised its head. Boongar ran out of his cover and leaped and shouted. The boar immediately went into a territorial stance, growling and kicking up dirt.
Boongar had to fight the churn in his stomach and the urge to shit his pants and stand his ground. The boar shrieked and charged, and finally Boongar ran. They boy made his way to the rock as the ferocious beast got closer, and anchored the end of the spear into it. Boongar held it firm with as much strength as his body could muster. And the boar pounced.
The cart let off Gishky and a few others at the bus top, and they walked their way home. She entertained them with conversations about the happenstances in the market and the colosseum. Soon Gishky found herself walking alone. The sun was setting with an orange haze permeated the sky, and the closer Gishky got to her house the more Boongar dwelt on her mind.
“It’s like I have children again,” she murmured.
Gishky opened the gate, seeing a few wood shavings in the yard. She sniffed the air and smelt raw meat, strong. She paused, looking intently at the door. “What is that boy up to?”
Gishky opened the door, just a creek. The smell of blood hit her hard. She swung it open, and saw Boongar at the counter where he was hacking up the body of the boar.
Gishky glared at him. “Boongar…what…?”
Smiling proudly, Boongar gestured to the wall. Gishky saw the head of the boar hung on display. “Holy shit!”
Boongar put down the knife and said, “See, Gishky. This is what men of the Ekandel do.”
A week had passed, and Gishky was in the kitchen with chunks of meat over a grill, being roasted and ready for delivery into the market. Thanks to Boongar’s efforts, Gishky now had meat to add to her list of goods, which increased her overall income by double. Not that killing a boar was beyond her skillset, but having Boongar do the heavy lifting in that field gave her more time and energy to focus and preparing and selling it. She’d already smoked eight pounds of meat and out it aside to carry to the market today, and was roasting the rest for her and Boongar.
Gishky took a glance out the window, at the young boy practicing his strikes with the spear. A smile came to her face thinking about how the boy so quickly proved himself useful. At times she entertained the idea of getting rid of him, but each day it seemed less likely she would. Gishky tested the meat and decided it was ready. She went to the window and called to the boy, and shared his meal as he came in.
“I hope you washed your hands,” she said.
Boongar placed the spear in the corner of the room and showed her his hands. “See, they’re all clean.”
Gishky said, “Sit…” and directed him to the seat around the small table.
She put the plate before him and sat across from him. Boongar took huge bites and barely chewed before swallowing. Gishky couldn’t hide her intrigue and feeling he eyes on him, Boongar looked from his plate and said, “Is something the matter?”
Gishky said, “I’m still curious as what you plan to do with your life.”
Boongar said, “I already told you, I want to restore my clan.”
“Surely that can’t be it,” said Gishky. “You’re still ten years old. Don’t you want to make friends and go to parties?”
Boongar’s smile slackened a little. “The people here don’t like me. Like Donkek.”
Gishky chuckled, and said, “Yeah, that is true. But don’t worry about Donkek. I’ll make him come around to you eventually while you’re here. But don’t think you’re going to just get up and conquer the world. Just last week an electite almost got you.”
Boongar suddenly pounded his fist into his palm, making Gishky flinched. “I’ll get her…”
Gishky patted Boongar’s head. “That’s good and all, but keep in mind you can’t even piss properly without wetting your pants. The truth is Boongar, I can’t follow on that path of yours, and I’m not trying to stop you. But I have to admit you’ve grown on me a little, and I would feel sad seeing you get killed before time. All I’m telling you is that when you decide to face these men, don’t think you can’t lose your life.”
“I know,” said Boongar. “That’s why I want to restore my tribe, and bare children to carry on my legacy once I leave this world and enter the astral plane of eternal rest.”
“What?” Gishky recoiled in shock. “Where the hell do you get saying such a fancy statement, kid?”
“From the books I read,” said Boongar.
Gishky rubbed his head. “Just remember that the world hates children with smart mouths. Now let’s drop that topic for now. Hurry up and eat. I have to start your first day in the market.”
After their breakfast, Gishky and Boongar got dressed and packed their belongings. They walked to the bus stop where they got murmurs and stares from the others there. Boongar felt their eyes and breathes on his neck like prickly bugs and hunched over. Gishky put her arm around the boy to reassure him.
When the carriage came, the man stopped and they all boarder. He was taking the payments when he reached Gishky, and retracted his neck when he saw Boongar.
“A human boy,” he said dryly.
Gishky said, “He’s with me?”
“Where are his people?” the driver said. “Where is he from?”
Gishky replied with, “Are you the police are a driver? I have money for the two of us?”
The driver scowled at Boongar, but relaxed when Gishky scowled back at him. He took the coins from her and the ferran and human boarded the carriage. Boongar sat close to her, and taking notice of this, Gishky smiled at the boy’s previous bold statements. He was still just a snot-nosed child after all. Boongar had a small bead that he constantly fiddled with to keep his attention and curtail him from having to meet the eyes around him.
Gishky looked at the scenery to pass the time, until she heard someone say “Where did you find him?”
Gishky turned to the speaker with an annoyed look; a feline female. “What?”
“Where did you get the human?” she said. “Is he your pet?”
Two other persons laughed, and Boongar looked up at the display fangs on scaly and hairy faces. But the noise quickly ceased when Gishky pulled up her blouse and showed them the brand-new pistol she purchased. “One more crack about the human and I start putting holes in your heads.”
The occupants suddenly had innocent looks on their faces. Boongar, realizing full-well the power he was wielding, stuck his tongue out at the adults. From there it was a quiet trip to the market. Once they arrived Boongar and Gishky went about delivering their orders. It wasn’t rare to see humans in the market, but Gishky and Boongar still stood out like a sore thumb.
Boongar himself was immersing his eyes with everyone and everything, letting his innocent mind run a wonder. “There are so many people here!”
“Stay focused,” said Gishky. “They kidnap little children around here.”
Boongar puckered his mouth and lowered his head. He and Gishky came upon a restaurant, where they entered through a gate at the back. Gishky was familiar with them, and quickly introduced Boongar to them. Boongar wasn’t met with hostility, however they did give him an uncertain stare. One female managed pinch Boongar’s cheek and flatter him. Gishky quickly sold the meat and left with her payment and her human ward.
Their last stop was Gishky’s client who ordered her cakes. When the woman looked at Boongar, he replied with, “Good morning.”
The woman said to Gishky, “Is this your son?”
Gishky gave the cake to her, while looking at her from beneath her brow with a grin. “No. But we’ve all tried human once in a while, haven’t we?”
The woman sensed no animosity from Gishky, and allowed herself to grin. “Not too much though.”
“He’s a friend of mine,” said Gishky. “He’s from a human tribe nearby that has hit some hard times. There’s a food drought where they’re from.”
“Really,” the woman