Fish Tails (45 page)

They watched Sun-­wings flying north, circling, finally turning west, toward the peaks. Once they were alone, they began on the duties they had already assigned themselves: collecting as large a pile of firewood as possible; filling all their pots and pans and water bottles at the spring. Needly sorted through her kit, repacked it neatly, put it where it could be grabbed up in a moment if needed. She went down into the forest, hid, took the little pouch from beneath her skirts, and checked it over, being sure everything was tightly corked, the corks tightly bound to the tiny bottles as she took an inventory. One bottle for sleep: three drops for a person; probably a small spoonful for something as big as a grown Griffin. One bottle held peaceful death: one drop for any creature of any size, even a very large size. One bottle held medicine for healing wounds: just a little diluted with water, then the water wiped onto the wound to moisten it. One bottle for questioning: one drop—­then, as soon as the person's eyes went funny, ask the questions. The person would answer. One bottle held a long, terrible dying: one drop, only one. Grandma said she had seen it used only once, in order to elicit information that saved many lives.

Grandma had not said whether the healing mixtures she made would work on a Griffin. Well, along with parts of lions and eagles and who knew what to make Griffins, men used the patterns of parts of men's brains to create speaking creatures. Chances were Griffin brains worked very much like men's brains did! Altogether, there were ten tiny bottles, each with its own purpose. She put them into the pouch, closed it, knotted the bottom tie around her leg, fastened the top one to the belt she wore next to her skin day and night, shook down her skirts, and returned to the cave.

Some time later, crashing noises from the forest below heralded Sun-­wings' approach, dragging behind her the gutted carcass of a young buffalo. Willum and Needly were summoned to learn which parts were most suitable for feeding children, human and otherwise. “Without the inward parts, it will stay good longer,” she said, to which Willum nodded, then, noting the thickness of the hide, he asked Sun-­wings to draw her beak here, and here, and there, creating flaps of hide that could be folded back to give him access to the meat below.

Still later, Golden-­throat arrived with a child somewhat larger than Dawn-­song. The child walked through the trees beside her mother. Only moments later, another Griffin, one they immediately titled “Silver-­shanks,” arrived. She also had a child, a bit smaller than Dawn-­song. The mother carried it like a mother cat carries a kitten. As dusk approached, the children were cutting meat from the carcass when they saw another, a fourth Griffin, arriving, a bundle dangling from her feet. She landed down the slope somewhere, and they heard her hurrying up toward them, past them, and into the cave, sparing them the briefest possible glance. The children picked up their burdens and followed, naming the one they had just seen “Bell-­sound,” for they had heard her calling like a great bronze gong from the sky.

Bell-­sound's burden—­carried in the hide of some recently killed animal—­contained three eggs: her own very large one and two others, smaller but distinguishable by size.

“We have to leave you here alone,” Sun-­wings told them, speaking directly to Needly, her wings twitching with the strain they could hear in her voice. “Some of them got Despos to fly off west so the others would have time to get their eggs and young here. Now, of course, he will demand to see our nests, to see us, to determine that there are no young, no eggs. Ordinarily, Griffins do not change their nests. Ordinarily, we build one and one only, deep and soft with plucked feathers to keep the baby warm. Now . . . well, now he will see empty nests. Now, hear me carefully, Willum, Needly.”

She fixed them with her huge eyes, and even Willum, oblivious as he sometimes was, saw the pain and tension there. “I have pulled the buffalo carcass as near as I can to the cave door. Willum has had me pull the skin and cut it in several places so you can get at the meat. Cut what you will need from it for two or three days and bring that part into the cave. Do it as soon as we leave. There is a large piece of . . . human house-­skin there. I took it from a man-­place. Use it to cover the body outside, so it cannot be seen from the air. You do not want a gathering of crows or vultures drawing attention to this place. The eggs were carried here in a hide; I will carry that hide away. After that, do not leave the cave. Listen to me! If you go out, some small things may watch you, from the trees, from the ground, from the air! They are little, harmless things. You think, ‘Oh, they can't hurt us.' You are right. But those little harmless things can be seen! And Despos can see them! And Despos can think, ‘Aha, what is that little bird looking at?' ”

“So he would come to see what the bird was looking at,” said Willum.

The huge head nodded. “He would come to see, and you and Needly and my child and the other children, the eggs, all would be gone within . . . moments. If he roared into this cavern, your ears would burst. If he reached into it, you would die on his claws. If you need to pee or poop—­that is your word, yes?—­do it in that earth-­floor corner of the cave. Our children will need to do the same, they can use that place as well. Despos has spies, some who fly, some who walk under the trees, and some who burrow under the ground. None of them are near this place. Not yet. It should be only a day before he goes! One day. Do not go out in daytime until we come to tell you he has gone.” And with that, she herself was gone, walking off under the trees toward the precipice at the bottom of the rise, from which she could drop easily into flight.

Willum and Needly stared at the three eggs. Bell-­sound's egg, the largest one, could have held a three-­year-­old human child, if it were curled up. One of the two smaller ones could have held a one-­year-­old; the smallest was half that size. Needly remembered Abasio's story of the woman, Olly, who had saved a hatchling as a child. So that huge egg must be mostly other stuff and quite a small baby.

Needly asked, “How long does the mother have to sit on the nest?”

“Sit on a nest?” questioned Golden-­throat's child. “Why would a mama do that?”

“To keep her egg warm. So it will hatch?”

“But it is always warm. It is in her pocket. The baby does not stay in the nest until after it has hatched; then, if the weather is warm, it can stay for short times! If the mamas have an egg in the pocket, if they hear Despos coming, they fly away and hide so the egg doesn't get broken. If Despos attacks them, he kicks the mama, hurts her, breaks the egg, he even breaks the mamas. He is very . . .” The little one shook her head.

Needly knew the word. Grandma had very early taught her the word. “Abusive.” It was the word for Gralf, the word for most of the men in Hench Valley. Someone had created an abusive male. Like the three hostile females. Surely not intentionally? She set that thought aside in order to find out something more important. She asked, “You have a
pocket
?”

The little one reared onto her hind legs, reaching down with her beak and running it across just below her front legs, a slit that ran from just below one armpit to the other. “Feel inside,” she said, then giggled as Needly reached out to feel the warm softness within. “It tickles. It's always warm there. When a mother lays an egg, it's small. You know those birds that fly in long lines?”

“You mean a goose?”

“Gooses! They lay eggs in nests, near water, I have seen them. Griffin eggs are the size of maybe two or three of their eggs. The shell is soft. And the mama right away puts it in her pocket. The egg goes on growing there. The baby inside it goes on growing. It takes a long time, but Mama says it's no trouble. The egg takes food from inside the pocket, too. The skin kind of sticks to the shell and lets the food go through and it goes on like that for as many years as we have claws on our front feet!”

“Counting the little one that sticks out behind?”

“Yes. That is how many?”

“Ten. So it takes ten years to hatch.”

“Yes. Or a little more. But finally the baby breaks the egg from inside. That big one over there, it's about ready to break. The mama pulls the pieces of the shell and the insides of the egg out of her pocket, because most of the egg is other stuff that makes food and air for us to breathe. We're not very big when we hatch out, just big enough to climb in and out, and we don't have any feathers or fur. So we stay in the pocket most of the time after we hatch, to stay warm until we grow our fur. When we first come out, the mamas give us meat, more and more as our fur grows on us.”

“Did your mother tell you to tell us all that?”

“Yes. My mama and Dawn-­song's mama. And they said you would give me a name. I think that's nice, having a name. We never did that.”

Willum and Needly shared a glance, both of them feeling the weight of these lives settle heavily on them. What was it Willum had said?
Name something, you're responsible for it.
Needly adopted an oracular posture and intoned: “I name you ‘Amber-­ears.' ” The word echoed in the cavern . . .
eers, eers, eers.

Willum repeated the phrase and the name, matching the tone of voice. The little one frolicked around them, repeating the name. “Ammereers. Ammereers. Amber-­ears.” They stared as the ears rose and spread above her head like the wings of a bird, shining, long and tufted. “Amber-­ears,” she caroled delightedly. “Amber-­ears.”

Willum asked the air: “Is there anything else we're supposed to know?”

“I need a name,” said the other little one. “Does my mama have a name?”

Needly answered. “Yes. Your mother is Silver-­shanks, and you are ‘Snow-­foot.' ”

“Snow-­foot,” the little one said, examining her feet. They were white. She ran out her claws, as a cat does when it stretches. They were silvery white, metallic. “Snow-­foot.”

Dawn-­song had joined them. “We have to take care of three eggs. Mama said this big egg is almost ready to hatch. That's usually when a mama finishes the nest she's been building somewhere safe and warm. From then on, the mamas can sometimes leave it for a little while, while they hunt. Sometimes big animals fight back, and the baby in the pocket might get kicked or gored, so they leave the baby for a little while they find food.”

Willum frowned as he asked, “Dawn-­song, do you and Amber-­ears have big enough pockets for the two little eggs to fit in?”

Needly turned toward him. His face was a little flushed, as though he were embarrassed. He went on doggedly. “The eggs aren't very big at all. Would it be it be all right for you to . . . tend the eggs in your pockets?”

The two little ones stared at each other, turning the idea over and over. At last Dawn-­song said tentatively, “Willum, Mama told me a long-­ago story, about a Griffin who had sister babies, and the older one took care of the egg.”

“Is it unusual for a Griffin to have both a half-­grown girl child and an egg?” asked Needly.

Amber-­ears cried, “Oh, yes! Yes! What she said about the long-­ago! Yes, it made me remember! In the long-­ago, before Despos got so big and before he killed the other fathers, Mama said there were more eggs then, more young, no one was breaking them, killing them! There were big . . . sister babies, yes. And big—­what is a he-­sister?”

“He-­sister? You mean a brother?” Willum asked

“Bro-­therz. Brothers, yes. Brother children. Brothers even helping mothers bring food for children, brother ones protecting the little ones!”

Needly turned to stare at Willum, several layers of thought going on at once. How sensible of him to have thought of that! And how helpful! With a two-­thousand-­year life-­span, a three-­hundred-­year childhood, and babies needing to be fed fresh meat . . . mothers would need all the help they could get!

Willum nodded, his mouth set. “Well then, that's all three of the babies named and two of the eggs provided for.” He took Needly's hand, an icy little hand. The air coming through the cave entrance was cold. Her lips were almost blue, and he drew her toward the fire in the back corner of the cave. “What about the biggest egg, Needly?”

She collapsed near the fire. “We'll just have to bring it over here and keep the fire going.” As Willum went back to get the egg, rolling it across the cavern floor toward her, she held out her hands to the flame as she asked, “Dawn-­song, how are we to nourish the eggs properly? Our skins won't provide food. Nor yours, probably.”

“Mama said it will only be for a little while, Needly. The mamas have all flown back to their nests. When they get there, they will try to find prey nearby that they can kill and take back to their nests. When Despos comes looking to see their pockets and their nests are empty, there will be meat there, and he will eat it. When he eats, he is sleepier, not so likely to hurt things. When he has seen all the nests, he will fly north, east, where the island is said to be.”

Willum said, “That's what's 'sposed to happen. Yeah.”

Dawn-­song said, “While that happens, we will keep the two smaller eggs warm in our pockets, and the biggest one can go here, near the fire. We can keep all of them moist on the outside by wiping them with water. Sometimes, if mamas have to go far away, hunting when the egg is very big, she will leave it behind and the egg dries out. That keeps the inside of it safe until she gets back. It doesn't let any moisture out that way. But then, when she comes back, she has to moisten it and get it soft again so it can go back in the pocket. Usually, a mama licks it all over. As soon as Despos goes away, the mamas will come back and get their eggs or their children. It won't be long.”

Despos going away seemed to be the final word on the matter. With one quick glance Willum and Needly shared hope that Despos would indeed go before he killed anything else. Following the instructions Sun-­wings had given them, Willum went to cover the carcass left outside. The house-­skin she had mentioned was there: Sun-­wings had robbed someone of a tent, ropes and pegs dangling from it. He examined it for bloodstains, finding none. At least it had not been taken forcibly while occupied. And it would serve the purpose Sun-­wings had intended for it. He tugged the tent across the buffalo carcass and laid some branches atop the pile. From above, it should look only like a pile of debris at the foot of the cliff that loomed above them. The cave entry was shadowed by an overhang. It was not a bad place to be—­under the circumstances!