The Wild Beasts of Anthony Mannis

Oaktown, the capital of Forest Zone since CA60, is a beautiful city situated close to the Vasse Bay. Its sister city Lagulina, sits to the south. While Lagulina is known as the artisan city, Oaktown is a famous political hub. Be sure to voice your concerns there, as they will surely be heard.

- Information Available to Borges Citizens, Pamphlet I

An ethereal gazelle leapt through the undergrowth, scouting ahead for Anthony. It left a pale spectral trail in its wake that flashed beautiful colors when it caught the light. The rain had lifted and sunlight dominated the woods; gold and green light dappled the forest floor. The gazelle whinnied.

“Phil, are you watching?” said Anthony eagerly.

“Yes, it’s gorgeous,” Philip responded, “but I think that deer is nothing more than a giant sign that says ’RANGERS COME HERE.’”

“Calm down, grandpa,” Hayley patted him on the shoulder, “We need that thing to flush out the road ahead. There’s more than rangers in these woods, y’know. I can’t believe you haven’t run into any black cats yet…”

“Black cats?” Philip said, glancing behind him.

“Big tough guy with the gun hasn’t heard of em, eh? Where I’m from, they live right on the edge of town, right past the treeline. We have to keep the treeline trimmed. Otherwise the forest will creep right up to the houses, and then we won’t be able to see the black cats attack when they’re hungry. When we need to hunt we always went in groups of four or more…”

“Wait, wait. Are they…big? What are we dealing with here?” Philip’s face was turning pale.

“You bet your ass they’re big!” Hayley assured him. “They’re as large as wild boars, with night-black pelts. They are masters of camouflage, hunting, and trapping. They carry off livestock all the time, and I heard sometimes they even nab people. Why, I’ve seen one tear down a full grown—”

“Yo Haystack, will you cut it out?” Anthony gestured towards Philip, who looked like he was about to throw up.

“Oh no! I’m sorry, I got carried away there. Don’t worry, we won’t see any, I was just messing with you—they mostly leave humans alone. Too much work compared to a goat, you know? Even if we did, with ol’ magic-mind there they won’t be a problem. In fact, we’ll probably get dinner out of it!” Laughing raucously, she slapped Philip on his back, leaving a bunch of straw stuck to his shirt. She skipped ahead, twirling her quarterstaff.

Philip adjusted his glasses and sighed. “I’m ready to sleep indoors.”

“Me too, man. My legs are cramped from walking and sleeping on the ground. The sooner we get to Lanaya, the sooner we can get a bed. And we’ll be closer to finding Ma—”

“Quiet, idiots! Come here!” Hayley hissed. She had melted silently into the brush. Anthony and Philip blundered over loudly.

Hayley narrowed her eyes at them. “What part of quiet did they not teach you in homeschool?”

She pointed at the cottage down in the sunlit clearing. “Tell me, what do you see?”

Anthony followed her gaze. “A house. A garden. A cherry tree. Some goats. Seems nice. Cute. You think they’ll let us stay there?”

Hayley groaned. “Jaggo kitten indeed. Look closer. This isn’t a natural clearing. It’s man-made: the owner chopped down the trees to enable line of sight in all directions. The house is made of greenwood lumber and wattled stone—it’s nearly as strong as a castle wall. The fence is made of greenwood pointed stakes. The owner knows this is a dangerous area.”

She shifted inside her straw jacket. “The size of the garden and the amount of goats is sufficient for two people, maybe three. And the tanning rack there indicates he is a hunter. See, a fresh deer ready to be dressed. These guys, whoever they are, are not to be messed with.”

She brushed herself off and started slowly towards the cottage.

No sooner had she gotten forty feet into the clearing did a man open up the door with a drawn bow in hand, an arrow notched and pointed at the ground.

“That’s far enough, little lady,” the man said in a gravelly voice.

Hayley raised her arms. “Hey there, grandpa. We’ve been on the road for many days during our way to Lanaya, and we are wondering if we could share your roof and maybe a hot meal?”

The old man scowled. He was tall, with bright blue eyes and an excellent white beard. He’s old, Hayley noticed, but his forearms are huge, like a smith’s. This man could tear us in half.

“Y’all are welcome to stay outside under the cherry tree. Don’t think of touching the garden, or your skins will be on the rack next to the deer’s.” His eyes shifted from Hayley, to Anthony and Philip standing nervously behind her. He grunted and spat on the dirt.

“HAROLD!” came a shrill voice from inside. The old man cowed noticeably as his wife bustled out the front door, her grey hair in a bun and her homespun dress swirling about her. “Did you spit on my doorstep?”

“No ma’am,” he said sheepishly.

“He’s lying!” Anthony shouted helpfully.

“Are you pointing your hunting bow at these guests?” she lectured him, gesturing towards the three travelers. “How uncivilized. And they are just children! Why, you scared them silly. Come down here, children, there is venison stew enough for all. And with fresh vegetables from the garden!”

The old man scowled again, his bravado returned. “Offerin’ foods to anyone walkin’ down the road. You’ll be givin’ away our house to the next ruffian passin’ through! Don’t get too used to this here hospitality,” he added to the three as they made their way down the hill. His wife bopped him on the head with her ladle.

“Don’t pay him no mind, Harold is just not used to visitors.”

She ladled soup into bowls as Anthony, Hayley, and Philip rested on an outdoor bench. “I’m Sharon, if you please. We moved out here from Free Crossing. The dust in the city was affecting his cough so we came and got some fresh air…we don’t have much space inside, so you’ll have to take your meals out here, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright ma’am, we sure are used to eating outside,” Philip smiled, “this will be the best meal we’ve had in a while.”

“Hey, I’m a pretty good cook,” Hayley protested.

“Apple and onion soup for the last two days, that was great.” Anthony rolled his eyes.

“It’s survivalist cooking! Wanna fight about it?”

“Oh you young folk. Always arguing! Harold and I never argue anymore. Ain’t that right, Harold?” Sharon clucked loud enough for Harold to hear. Harold, leaning over his stew, grunted.

“Anyways,” the plump matron chirped, “whereabouts are y’all from?”

Anthony and Philip looked at each other, but Hayley jumped in. “We’re from Lumber Falls. Going to visit some family in Lanaya.”

Harold grunted again. “Lumber Falls? That there trail you came in on comes through Mint Village.”

Anthony froze, but Hayley continued without missing a beat.

“Oh definitely. We wanted to avoid ranger patrols so we cut a side route through Forestry One, which as everyone knows, meets up with the Mint Village trail.”

Harold grunted, satisfied, and turned away.

“Wow, Hayley, you are on it today,” Philip muttered, as they huddled around their stew.

“Please, I’m always on it. Y’all are kittens. What would you do without me? Forestry One is an old trail that’s now a rabbit run. He’s a hunter, he knows that; you’re lucky I do too.” She sat up straight and fixed her hair as Sharon came around with a pitcher of water.

“Mint Village, eh?” Sharon said, as she poured for them. “Have you heard what happened to them? Whole place annexed by the Borges. Saddening.”

Philip glanced at Anthony, whose jaw was tightly set. “Yes,” he started slowly, “we heard some news here and there. Horrible stuff. Do you know why they did that?”

“Oh, there are rumors. The most common one is that they were looking for invokers, and that they got one! What a fight he put up, some say. A gigantic four-armed creature, giving the Public Safety Officers what for!” Sharon said excitedly, spilling water.

“Bah! Invokers,” Harold scowled. “Never liked those freaks.”

Anthony’s eye twitched.

“Always getting that special treatment. As if life wasn’t hard enough for us regular folk.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Anthony said quietly.

Philip nudged him with his shoulder. Be careful.

“I used to be a master stonemason in Free Crossing. I built sturdy homes, and sturdy walls. ‘No one can break Free Crossing,’ they would say. It’s true. The walls have never been breached by a siege. I designed pulley systems, lifts, all manners of machines. Hell, you should see the defensive turrets along the walls.”

He beamed momentarily, then his face darkened.

“Then some ten-year-olds come by with their mommas and poppas working for half the price and doing the work in half the time with those jaggo mind-freak monsters of theirs. Off o’ my blueprints!”

Makes sense why this cottage is so solid, Philip thought. Sharon swirled over to Harold and put her arms on his shoulders. “Now Harold, don’t you go on—”

“I was out of a job faster than you could drop a hammer,” Harold continued, jabbing his fork decisively. “My machines were obsolete. I couldn’t pay my crew. Two years went by, and we grew poorer and poorer.”

He stopped to hold Sharon’s hand. “I fought for them in the First Uprising. I built a society for them during the Second. I’ve given those freaks enough.”

“Freaks?” Anthony whispered, his voice quavering.

“Yea kid, freaks. What, are you offended?”

“You mean like this?!” he snarled.

Philip stood up, a hand raised. “Anthony, don’t—”

But a beast had already appeared. Seven feet long, it had the scaly lower body of a scorpion but the face was a full-maned lion. It roared and clicked its pinchers together.

“Invoker, I knew it! Why aren’t you wearing your goddamn patch, freak?” Harold scrambled away and grabbed his bow. “That thing is an abomination of nature!”

“Yea,” Anthony said viciously, “and I can do worse.” The monster began to shift, becoming simultaneously more leonine and chitinous in appearance.

“Anthony, CUT IT OUT!” Philip yelled. “Remember what’s important! Remember why we’re traveling!”

“Boy,” Harold commanded, an arrow notched, “you may be fancy and all, but if you make another freak move like that I’ll pin you to that tree behind ya like you was an apple.”

“Big words, old timer,” Anthony smirked, and the manticore growled. Spines flared out along its back.

“Will you BOTH stop acting immature and SHUT UP,” Hayley’s scream cut through the standoff. “Listen!”

Harold cocked an ear and his demeanor changed. “Everyone get inside the house.”

“What’s going on?” Anthony demanded.

“INSIDE THE HOUSE. That includes you, patch-less freak.” Harold was no longer looking at the monster of myth or its creator, but the treeline. Hayley too, was facing the forest.

“Do you hear that?” she said.

“I do hear rustling,” Philip said nervously.

“I’m not a freak, don’t call me a freak.” Anthony scowled.

“Ugh, get inside the house!” Hayley barked, “It’s black cats, and they’ll shred you like it’s wheat season. I don’t know what they’re doing around here, though. I haven’t seen their tracks…”

“I don’t know what they’re doing in the area either,” Harold growled, “but they must have caught the scent of that deer I just killed. Or your freak here lured them with his freak powers. Move inside, everyone. And get rid of that monster.”

#

The cottage was absolutely lovely inside. All the furniture—the cabinets, the table, and the two chairs—was handmade. Everything was perfectly sized to accommodate two. Harold shut the heavy door and drew the deadbolt across it.

“I’m cramped,” Anthony complained. He and Philip were squeezed in the spare bit of space made between the cabinet and the far wall.

“You’re more than welcome to go outside,” Hayley snapped.

“I don’t know why you brought that deer inside, Harold,” scolded Sharon. “You’re getting blood everywhere.”

“It took me all day to catch this one,” Harold said. “I’m not about to let some hungry kittens get it.”

There was a loud thump and some yowls from outside. Philip gulped. “They can’t get in, can they?”

Harold laughed. “No, they can’t. These walls are more than half a foot thick of stone and green wood, and the windows aren’t big enough. I would only be worried if—”

There was a large crash and bleating. “The goat pen!” Harold bellowed, and ran for the front door, grabbing a long hunting knife from off the table. Before anyone could say anything, he ran outside, slamming the door behind him.

“Quick! Draw the deadbolt!” Sharon shrilled.

A black cat smashed into the door, drawn by the scent of blood. Five feet of pure lean muscle, it yowled at the sight of humans and had its skull immediately crushed by a swing of Hayley’s staff. Anthony was out the door, running after Harold, Hayley trying to follow but beset by another black cat.

Harold’s back was to the penned goats, whose bleats cut through the evening air. A dead black cat lay in front of him as he squared off against another, blood dripping off his knife. The black cat screamed and lunged, forcing Harold to turn. As soon as his back was away from the pen, another black cat tackled him, knocking him to the ground. The cat reared back for a blow, but was knocked backwards by a giant fist from Anthony’s monster.

Eight feet tall and glowing red-orange, ursine and intimidating, it bellowed fire. It lunged into the black cat: heavy blows were given and taken, the werebear invocation thrumming whenever it absorbed a blow and a crunch whenever the black cat took one. Finally the black cat was laid open with a strike that tore its belly in half; the other cats skittishly retreated into the woods when they heard the werebear’s guttural victory roar.

Anthony breathed heavily as he unsummoned his beast. Harold was staring at him grimly as he helped him to his feet. Great, he’s going to yell at me, Anthony thought as he took the old man’s hand, then maybe stab me. Bring it on, grandpa.

“That was some fine work back there, boy,” Harold said slowly. “I believe I do owe you my life.”

Anthony tilted his head. “You don’t hate me?”

“Boy, I been around long enough to know that hate is one of the oldest demons. You let it control you, and soon it will affect every aspect of your life—and I let it happen to me. I didn’t even know I carried it until today. I am sorry.”

Anthony was shocked. “I…I believe I was behaving childish as well…I’ve never heard anyone sincerely apologize like that, ever.”

“Let me tell you something, boy. The world would be a better place if people owned up to their mistakes. Why I—”

“HAROLD!”

“Uh-oh,” he shrunk.

Sharon came roaring out of the house. “YOU OPENED THE DOOR, RISKING YOUR LIFE FOR THOSE GOATS?! What is your PROBLEM? Why, we were terrorized by those cats! What an utterly rash decision! You have no idea how much trouble you are in!”

“My dear Sharon, I am so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“Don’t think you can apologize so smoothly out of this one! Just ’cause you own up to your mistake doesn’t mean it didn’t happen!”

She chased him around with her ladle, goats still bleating.

Anthony laughed and went back to the house, where Hayley was field dressing one of the black cats amidst the falling blossoms of the cherry tree. Philip, his face a lovely sea-foam green, was pointing his gun at it with both hands.

“Cut it out Specs, he’s already dead,” Hayley said, “I gave you the gun back, I can take it away again.”

“What’s happenin’, Haystack? All that fighting make you hungry for blood?” Anthony asked.

“Funny boy. Harold’s got a smoker, we can cut strips and dry them. We’ll have snacks to eat on the way to Lanaya,” she enthusiastically peeled back a large section of skin and used her hunting knife to dig out the bullet that was lodged in in the meat, “unless you want more apple and onion soup.”

“That’s some damn fine work, little lady,” Harold scruffily approved.

Hayley winked at him. “You ain’t so bad yourself, Harry. You gotta show me how to use that bow of yours.”

“One day, Scarecrow,” Anthony said, watching her as she drew out the entrails, “you should tell us how you know all these things.”