Shownotes
Atop a desert mesa, a jackal tribe struggles for its place as a rival tribe challenges their very existence. Keth, a young jackal just learning the shamanic ways of lore and magic, is desperate to help, and after undergoing a vision quest finds himself thrust to the forefront of the conflict.
Today’s story is Part 1 of “Water” by Utunu (@WildDogUtunu), a painted wolf who creates games for a living but enjoys worldbuilding and writing in his spare time. His published work has appeared in Heat, and soon FANG. This is a story in two parts, which will conclude next time.
Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.
Transcripts
You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.
Speaker:I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,
Speaker:and Today’s story is the first of two parts
Speaker:of “Water” by Utunu (@WildDogUtunu), a painted wolf who creates games for a living
Speaker:but enjoys worldbuilding and writing in his spare time.
Speaker:His published work has appeared in Heat,
Speaker:and soon FANG. Please enjoy:
Speaker:“Water” by Utunu (Part 1 of 2)
Speaker:The tent sat at the edge of the mesa,
Speaker:a splash of vermilion against the blue of the afternoon sky,
Speaker:the hot desert breeze
Speaker:snapping and rippling at its walls.
Speaker:Keth paused at its entrance,
Speaker:his long jackal ears swiveling at the sharp uttered curse from within.
Speaker:There was the thud of an object being struck,
Speaker:and he winced. Keth pushed the tent flap to one side,
Speaker:peering nervously as he stepped inside.
Speaker:The scent of desperation and fury flooded his nostrils,
Speaker:and he took an involuntary step backward,
Speaker:brushing up against the tent’s fabric.
Speaker:A quick glance took in the scene -
Speaker:the shaman Meket sat, despondent,
Speaker:his ears back, head down,
Speaker:the heels of his paws covering his eyes.
Speaker:Accompanying him,
Speaker:seated around the fire pit,
Speaker:were the small, squat, carved sculptures of the jackal gods -
Speaker:normally residents of the further recesses of the tent,
Speaker:unless Meket brought them out for particular ceremonies.
Speaker:One had been knocked over;
Speaker:instead of being raised to the heavens
Speaker:and calling storms,
Speaker:the wooden paws of Tlal,
Speaker:the rain god, now reached awkwardly sideways as if he were making a vain attempt to right himself.
Speaker:A slight crack was visible in the sculpture,
Speaker:and a stone mortar lay upside down nearby,
Speaker:its accompanying pestle
Speaker:resting near Keth’s paws.
Speaker:He glanced over at the shaman,
Speaker:but Meket was silent,
Speaker:paws still covering his
Speaker:face. “Meket?” Keth knelt
Speaker:and picked up the pestle, then quietly retrieved the mortar.
Speaker:It was half-full of a vivid green paste that Keth didn’t recognize,
Speaker:smelling faintly of citrus.
Speaker:He placed the wayward tools back on a shelf,
Speaker:and moved over to the upended statue.
Speaker:Picking it up and cradling it carefully,
Speaker:he placed it back in its spot next to the fire pit.
Speaker:Keth examined the statue,
Speaker:cocking his head in uncertainty.
Speaker:The sunlight through the thin fabric of the tent
Speaker:suffused much of the interior with a soft orange,
Speaker:and made it seem as if flames flickered over Tlal’s wooden visage.
Speaker:Keth decided the god looked unhappy that way,
Speaker:so he set him back in the shadows in the corner of the tent.
Speaker:Tentatively, he sat in the spot made absent
Speaker:and looked across at Meket.
Speaker:“They’re not listening,”
Speaker:despaired Meket, and Keth shifted uncomfortably.
Speaker:“Nothing. The herbs didn’t work.
Speaker:The gods didn’t speak.
Speaker:Nothing!” Meket lifted his gaze to the younger jackal,
Speaker:misery etched in his face, streaks in his fur from the tears.
Speaker:Keth just sat, stunned into silence;
Speaker:he had never seen Meket like this.
Speaker:The shaman had always been solid,
Speaker:certain, as grounded and unmarred and unchanging as the sculpted gods around the fire -
Speaker:and now both he and Tlal
Speaker:had cracks. Keth let his muzzle dip,
Speaker:unable to meet Meket’s gaze.
Speaker:“I am sorry, Keth. Tomorrow creeps ever closer, and I am unprepared.”
Speaker:“Can I help?” “No. Just…
Speaker:go, enjoy the feast.
Speaker:Enjoy the sunset,
Speaker:enjoy your friends, revel in each other tonight.”
Speaker:Meket paused, ears back and eyes downcast,
Speaker:then got to his feet.
Speaker:He grasped his herb bag and slung it over his shoulder,
Speaker:and Keth followed as he exited the tent.
Speaker:“Aram will be awaiting me at the challenge tomorrow,
Speaker:and I need to figure out how our tribe can survive,”
Speaker:Meket added, then stopped
Speaker:and looked intently at him.
Speaker:“I’ll find something, Keth, don’t worry.
Speaker:There are some herbs, perhaps…”
Speaker:His voice trailed off,
Speaker:and he gave Keth’s shoulder a firm pat before starting down the slope of the rocky path to the desert below.
Speaker:Keth watched until only Meket’s ears were visible above the edge of the plateau,
Speaker:then they too were gone.
Speaker:I know he doesn’t know what to do.
Speaker:His scent bespoke his fear.
Speaker:He knew I could sense it, too.
Speaker:Sighing, he made his way to where the rest of the tribe had gathered around the large cooking fire.
Speaker:It lay in the center of the mesa,
Speaker:ringed by all the brightly colored tents of the Bweha.
Speaker:Too many tents empty now,
Speaker:thought Keth as he approached,
Speaker:but he could not help but smile at the happiness in the faces that turned to greet him.
Speaker:Meat, singed and stinging from the fire,
Speaker:was thrust into one paw and a bowl of kokat into his other,
Speaker:and the laughter and energy of those he loved almost allowed him to forget.
Speaker:But it was there,
Speaker:that undercurrent of dread.
Speaker:All there knew what was to come on the morrow.
Speaker:Aram’s larger tribe,
Speaker:Bweha themselves,
Speaker:had been engaging Keth’s in ambushes and skirmishes over the past season -
Speaker:a display of uncharacteristic aggression that almost certainly originated from Aram himself.
Speaker:Meket knew it was a losing battle;
Speaker:this challenge was his last resort to save what was left of the tribe,
Speaker:a tribe that had been winnowed and culled by Aram’s constant attacks.
Speaker:That knowledge lay heavy upon them,
Speaker:and the feasting tonight seemed more a defiance than true merriment.
Speaker:There were smiles and laughs,
Speaker:but to Keth’s ears they sounded muted and worn,
Speaker:their tones dampened by what the morning might bring.
Speaker:Keth sat, eyes unfocused as he watched blurred jackal shapes
Speaker:weave amongst each other
Speaker:against the backdrop of the cookfire’s flames.
Speaker:“Keth!” A chin rested on his shoulder,
Speaker:its owner’s muzzle inches from his own.
Speaker:Golden eyes glittered,
Speaker:bright with the reflections of the fire mirrored there,
Speaker:as Atoth peered sideways at him,
Speaker:grinning playfully.
Speaker:“Atoth,” smiled Keth,
Speaker:and the other jackal’s eager face shone with genuine merriment, his long ears perked forward.
Speaker:“You look like you’ve had plenty of kokat already!”
Speaker:Atoth snorted, leaning in closer.
Speaker:“Not enough, probably,”
Speaker:was his quiet response,
Speaker:his expression serious.
Speaker:But in a flash it was gone,
Speaker:replaced with a happiness Keth wished he could feel,
Speaker:as Atoth’s muzzle pushed against his own.
Speaker:“Come. Spend time with us…
Speaker:with me!” Atoth’s slender form pressed against his insistently,
Speaker:chest to back, the young jackal’s arousal obvious.
Speaker:“I’ve already asked him.
Speaker:He’s not even listening!”
Speaker:laughed Paori, elbowing Keth playfully.
Speaker:I didn’t even realize she was there…
Speaker:“I am sorry,” Keth sighed,
Speaker:and got to his feet.
Speaker:His green eyes met Atoth’s worried ones,
Speaker:flicked over to Paori’s blue ones,
Speaker:and looked away. “There are many others who will make far better partners tonight.”
Speaker:Setting down his empty bowl,
Speaker:Keth started back towards the tents.
Speaker:I am sorry. *** Keth found he had again wandered over to Meket’s tent.
Speaker:He was not entirely surprised -
Speaker:it always felt more like home than his own tent,
Speaker:a small, cramped affair wedged amongst the rest of the tribe.
Speaker:He spent much time in Meket’s, for the shaman was the only other one in the village gifted with a-mna,
Speaker:the watersight, and thus the only one from whom he could learn.
Speaker:It was an innate talent,
Speaker:and a much revered one here at the edge of the desert where water was scarce.
Speaker:“Meket?” The only sounds were the distant chatter of his tribemates
Speaker:and the ever-present winds atop the mesa as they plucked and snapped at the tents.
Speaker:Keth peered within;
Speaker:it was as he had left it.
Speaker:The three carved gods around the small firepit held their own vigil,
Speaker:and Tlal remained aloof in the corner,
Speaker:just an outline now with the approach of dusk.
Speaker:The absence of Meket was a strange hole -
Speaker:Keth had not ever been here alone -
Speaker:and the squat statues unnerved him.
Speaker:Yet the pull of curiosity was there,
Speaker:and Keth was drawn inside.
Speaker:A slight, earthy scent,
Speaker:tinged with citrus, pricked
Speaker:at his nose. Giving the statue gods a wide berth,
Speaker:Keth stepped gingerly over to the shelves,
Speaker:stocked haphazardly with jumbles of items in an order probably only Meket understood.
Speaker:The mortar still sat there,
Speaker:and he picked it up,
Speaker:giving the green paste smeared inside a good sniff.
Speaker:Even up close the scent was faint.
Speaker:Not surprised it didn’t work; it’s clearly lost its potency.
Speaker:I don’t recognize the herbs,
Speaker:they must have sat here for ages before he used them.
Speaker:Keth examined the contents uncertainly,
Speaker:then set the mortar back down.
Speaker:He paused, then with a quick sideways glance at the god carvings,
Speaker:picked it up again
Speaker:and scooped out the paste.
Speaker:Before he could change his mind,
Speaker:he shoved it into his mouth,
Speaker:licking his paw clean of the remainder
Speaker:and replacing the mortar on the shelf.
Speaker:Keth waited. The gods waited,
Speaker:short and carved and still.
Speaker:Keth’s challenging glare was met with wooden silence,
Speaker:and he flushed with embarrassment.
Speaker:What am I even doing?
Speaker:It was all he could do to not rush guiltily out of Meket’s tent,
Speaker:and as he stepped out, the cool evening air was a welcome relief.
Speaker:He glanced briefly back inside;
Speaker:the gods remained unmoved and unmoving,
Speaker:Tlal no longer even discernible in the shadowed corner. ***
Speaker:Keth awoke with a start,
Speaker:a strange aftertaste of herbs in his mouth.
Speaker:He had wandered back to his tent,
Speaker:his mind churning,
Speaker:yet had apparently dozed off, lulled to sleep by the soft breeze
Speaker:and muted voices of his tribemates.
Speaker:What woke me? He pushed the tent flap aside and stepped out.
Speaker:The stars spoke of early evening -
Speaker:he had not slept long -
Speaker:yet the telltale glow of the feast’s bonfire was absent.
Speaker:No flickering orange touched the sky’s dark curtain,
Speaker:no chatter of his friends impinged on the night’s silence.
Speaker:Keth let the tent flap fall closed. And no
Speaker:wind. That doesn’t happen.
Speaker:Where did the wind go?
Speaker:A tightness gripped him;
Speaker:his muscles went taut
Speaker:as he strained for sounds that weren’t there.
Speaker:Sensitive jackal ears flicked and swiveled, but all Keth could hear was the beat of his heart,
Speaker:panicked and urgent.
Speaker:Until… the faintest of brushes,
Speaker:of a paw upon fabric,
Speaker:and he stiffened.
Speaker:Long moments passed,
Speaker:but there was only darkness and silence.
Speaker:Moving around his tent,
Speaker:carefully crouched,
Speaker:he noticed its side was discolored;
Speaker:in the moonlight the normally dark green was an odd gray.
Speaker:He lifted a curious paw to it -
Speaker:the barest touch,
Speaker:and the fabric disintegrated,
Speaker:collapsing into dust with a soft sigh.
Speaker:And then, a faint footfall -
Speaker:yet to Keth’s unnerved senses it was thunderous.
Speaker:Followed by another -
Speaker:clear footsteps now, receding towards the gradual, sloped path that led down along the edge of the mesa.
Speaker:Keth reached through the jagged void that was once his tent wall,
Speaker:the frayed edges dissolving as he watched,
Speaker:and his fingers closed upon the cold
Speaker:and welcome grip of his kukri.
Speaker:He started towards the noise,
Speaker:his own paws quiet and sure upon the rock.
Speaker:A few steps later and the path that led down to the desert floor was in sight,
Speaker:along with two jackal ears silhouetted against the stars,
Speaker:slowly descending with the footsteps
Speaker:until they dipped below the rocky rim of the mesa.
Speaker:Keth rushed forward,
Speaker:conflicted between stealth and speed,
Speaker:and started down,
Speaker:hugging the mesa’s side as he did so in hopes he might stay unseen.
Speaker:The figure continued its unhurried stride;
Speaker:it was a jackal like him,
Speaker:Keth was certain.
Speaker:One of the Bweha,
Speaker:but not his tribe.
Speaker:The darkness and angle of the path
Speaker:played tricks on his vision -
Speaker:whoever this was seemed thin, and taller than anyone Keth had seen.
Speaker:Keth unexpectedly stumbled,
Speaker:his paw slipping against a crack in the stone,
Speaker:and the rock broke
Speaker:and shattered into sand where his paws found purchase.
Speaker:Bracing himself against the suddenly shifting footing,
Speaker:heart thumping too loud in his chest,
Speaker:he waited as the sand drifted past his paws,
Speaker:other cracks splintering out from his touch.
Speaker:The path has always been solid.
Speaker:Smooth and sculpted by years and years of wind and sand and the tread of paws.
Speaker:Never a crack. What is happening?
Speaker:He looked down the path.
Speaker:Whoever had been there must have reached the sands of the desert,
Speaker:and Keth quickly descended,
Speaker:occasionally forced to shift his weight to accommodate the sporadic crumbling
Speaker:of once-solid rock beneath him.
Speaker:The desert floor stretched out at the bottom of the path,
Speaker:cool and soft to his paws,
Speaker:and he exhaled in relief.
Speaker:His steps again firm and stable,
Speaker:Keth circled around the mesa’s wall.
Speaker:And there, outlined against the sky, stood the figure.
Speaker:He was half again Keth’s height,
Speaker:naked and horribly gaunt,
Speaker:and stood at the shore of the tribe’s oasis.
Speaker:The small pond was made a flat
Speaker:unnatural mirror by the wind’s absence,
Speaker:the stranger dimly illuminated by the moon’s reflected crescent.
Speaker:Citrus suddenly pressed on Keth’s mind,
Speaker:as if all his senses were rubbed with it.
Speaker:His vision blurred and the scent was so sharp as to be painful.
Speaker:As realization and fear bubbled up through him,
Speaker:he shuddered and staggered.
Speaker:“I name you Aät!” Keth pushed each word out, gasping for air.
Speaker:The jackal stood unmoving,
Speaker:silently staring at him,
Speaker:then turned and bent forward, placing his paws in the shallows of the oasis.
Speaker:He crouched there, like a dark furred spider,
Speaker:limbs long and spindled, and turned his head slowly back towards Keth.
Speaker:“I thirst,” rumbled Aät,
Speaker:the words resonating through Keth,
Speaker:his bones vibrating with the sound.
Speaker:The all-encompassing citrus left as suddenly as it had arrived,
Speaker:and Keth struggled for air,
Speaker:finally able to breathe again.
Speaker:Aät leaned further towards the water’s surface,
Speaker:his muzzle opening impossibly wide
Speaker:as he started to drink.
Speaker:Huge amounts of water disappeared within Aät’s cavernous maw,
Speaker:and the oasis slowly emptied.
Speaker:“Stop!” cried Keth, and sprinted towards him.
Speaker:Aät gave no notice,
Speaker:continuing to drink,
Speaker:and in desperation Keth unsheathed the curved blade of his kukri,
Speaker:reaching with his paw to push Aät away from the rapidly dwindling waters.
Speaker:As his fingertips touched the jackal’s fur,
Speaker:Aät’s thirst echoed through Keth’s paw,
Speaker:absorbing all it could find.
Speaker:Keth cried out and stumbled,
Speaker:and the kukri fell from his grasp as he clutched the
Speaker:damaged arm to his chest.
Speaker:The glinting sharpness of the blade was now dull and pitted,
Speaker:like a weathered and ancient artifact,
Speaker:but Keth ignored it as he rose to his feet.
Speaker:Staring at the water streaming into the black abyss of the jackal’s maw,
Speaker:Keth shifted his sight,
Speaker:and suddenly the water shone with his a-mna,
Speaker:the tendrils snaking around and through,
Speaker:pulling and urging it forth from the pool.
Speaker:Focusing, Keth steadied himself,
Speaker:ignoring the agony in his paw.
Speaker:He reached out, his own sight grasping and nudging,
Speaker:and pushed. Aät’s head whipped around.
Speaker:Water hung in the air for a moment, before splashing into what was left of the oasis.
Speaker:“Not-Meket,” Aät’s voice resonated.
Speaker:Eyes, pale as the moon, stared into Keth’s own.
Speaker:“Please. My tribe needs that water.” “Your tribe is dying. Soon this oasis will belong to another. And I am thirsty.” Aät glanced over at
Speaker:the water that remained,
Speaker:ripples marring the moon’s perfect crescent.
Speaker:“I am always thirsty,”
Speaker:he added, turning back to face Keth once more.
Speaker:“Meket will protect us.
Speaker:He seeks to challenge Aram tomorrow.”
Speaker:“And do you think he will succeed?”
Speaker:Keth was silent.
Speaker:Meket would be disappointed.
Speaker:How quickly I dismiss his chances.
Speaker:“Not-Meket. Your tribe is dying.
Speaker:Your homes rot, the winds and sands eat them away.
Speaker:Soon, the colorful tents atop your mesa will be gray and dust.
Speaker:The fires have burned out,
Speaker:the ashes cold.
Speaker:There are no voices.
Speaker:It is all silence.”
Speaker:“You did that! You touched my tent.
Speaker:They are not dead yet!”
Speaker:“It is inevitable.
Speaker:All will die.” “Eventually, yes.
Speaker:But not yet!” Aät grinned,
Speaker:his teeth white in a mouth far too large.
Speaker:Stretching out, he turned and yawned,
Speaker:his jaws opening wide,
Speaker:and water streamed forth.
Speaker:Within moments the oasis was restored,
Speaker:and Aät turned his pale eyes back to Keth.
Speaker:“You wish to delay the inevitable?”
Speaker:Aät’s eyes gleamed with amusement.
Speaker:“Delay? No. I wish to change things.
Speaker:I want my tribe to live.” “They’ll
Speaker:die.” Keth clenched his fists,
Speaker:wincing at his injured paw.
Speaker:“Why are you so callous?
Speaker:We are Bweha, like you!”
Speaker:Aät’s moonlit eyes were suddenly vast
Speaker:and deep and infinitely sad.
Speaker:“Because I have to be.”
Speaker:He got to his feet,
Speaker:a jackal tower, his ears limned by the crescent moon behind.
Speaker:Turning away from Keth,
Speaker:he walked unhurriedly across the sands,
Speaker:and soon was lost behind the curve of the mesa.
Speaker:Keth gazed towards the oasis.
Speaker:It seemed full, as if nothing had happened,
Speaker:and the mirror of its surface was a second moon.
Speaker:As he watched, a breeze sprang up and ripples skittered across the water;
Speaker:soon the bright crescent was simply a scattered refraction
Speaker:of myriad pale lights,
Speaker:and Keth turned his attention to the direction Aät had walked.
Speaker:Should I follow? The welcome winds ruffled his fur,
Speaker:and he began to walk in Aät’s wake.
Speaker:The god’s path was easy to track.
Speaker:There were tufts of desert grasses,
Speaker:wilted from his passage,
Speaker:and the large paw prints that made their way nearby were immediate confirmation.
Speaker:Keth paused; there was a whisper brought on the wind,
Speaker:a faint brush of paw on sand.
Speaker:He must be returning.
Speaker:He felt his muscles tense and panic rise,
Speaker:but his legs would not move.
Speaker:A jackal came into view,
Speaker:walking unhurriedly around the curve of rock from the direction Aät had gone.
Speaker:She was beautiful,
Speaker:and her bare fur shone in the moon’s light.
Speaker:Her paw brushed the mesa’s rock face as she moved,
Speaker:her fingers playing along its surface,
Speaker:and where they touched
Speaker:the weathered cracks of Aät’s passage
Speaker:smoothed and closed.
Speaker:She turned and gifted Keth with a smile,
Speaker:and citrus pushed at his mind,
Speaker:sharp and firm. With a quick shift of his sight
Speaker:he could see her for who she truly was.
Speaker:“Mna,” Keth murmured as she approached,
Speaker:and the strange pervasiveness of citrus disappeared.
Speaker:Tendrils of shuddering power drifted in all directions,
Speaker:and she was the source.
Speaker:Some touched the rock cliff sides,
Speaker:some floated above them to the mesa, out of sight,
Speaker:some threaded their way along the wind-blown patterns in the sands,
Speaker:and wherever they touched, the damage wrought by Aät’s nature was repaired.
Speaker:One snaked forth to caress Keth’s paw,
Speaker:and the pain flowed away like water.
Speaker:Keth examined the tuft of white fur that remained,
Speaker:a reminder of Aät’s touch,
Speaker:and looked up at Mna.
Speaker:“Thank you,” he said,
Speaker:and it was heartfelt.
Speaker:He looked at the kukri -
Speaker:its pitted and marred surface had been restored,
Speaker:yet… “Can you,” Keth blurted,
Speaker:then meekly continued,
Speaker:“make it sharper?” His voice strengthened with resolve.
Speaker:“Make it a powerful weapon?
Speaker:One I can give to Meket?
Speaker:One he can use, one he can fight Aram with!”
Speaker:Mna was quiet. Keth felt the heat rise to his face,
Speaker:and his ears flattened back as he dropped his gaze.
Speaker:“Of course. But I won’t.”
Speaker:Mna’s voice was gentle,
Speaker:yet there was a shiver of power there barely contained.
Speaker:“Why not?” “Why should I?
Speaker:For what reason should I give Meket an advantage, yet Aram not?”
Speaker:“Because Aram is killing our tribe.
Speaker:Killing Bweha that look to you,
Speaker:that look to all the gods!”
Speaker:“He is stronger. Perhaps he is thinning the herd,
Speaker:winnowing the weak and sick for the health of all.”
Speaker:Her voice was neutral,
Speaker:her face expressionless. Keth felt the tears rise,
Speaker:and frustration started to boil within him.
Speaker:“You are just like Aät!”
Speaker:I am damned now anyway. It does not matter.
Speaker:If Mna was surprised, the only sign of it was a brief twitch of an ear
Speaker:and a raised eyebrow.
Speaker:“How so?” “You are indifferent to us!
Speaker:We are so far beneath your notice
Speaker:that we do not matter.
Speaker:Meket desperately calls,
Speaker:but you are deaf to him.
Speaker:I only see you now because…
Speaker:because of some herbs he made that didn’t even work for him.”
Speaker:Tears ran hotly down Keth’s face,
Speaker:dark rivulets on his fur.
Speaker:“You think Aät does not care?”
Speaker:Mna asked. “I don’t know!
Speaker:Perhaps?” “Why would he show himself to you?
Speaker:Why would I?” “I don’t know that either.
Speaker:Have you given up on Meket?”
Speaker:Keth glared defiantly at her,
Speaker:and her image was bent and shifted through the blur of his tears.
Speaker:“Keth, I see many things.
Speaker:I know of your village.
Speaker:I know of Meket,
Speaker:of you, and all the others up on that mesa, their lives bound together.
Speaker:Here, let me show you.”
Speaker:Her paw was a light touch on his shoulder,
Speaker:and his sight prickled.
Speaker:“Your watersight is strong,
Speaker:but you need to see differently.
Speaker:Twist it. Like this.”
Speaker:A nudge and shift,
Speaker:and his a-mna changed.
Speaker:The tendrils of power emanating from Mna were still there,
Speaker:but different somehow.
Speaker:Do I see something else?
Speaker:“Here, pull from me,”
Speaker:Mna suggested.
Speaker:“What?” “Pull. Did Meket not show you this?”
Speaker:Her sigh was exasperated.
Speaker:“Follow along in my wake,
Speaker:let the stream bring you water as well.”
Speaker:She coaxed Keth’s stretched grasp along one of the tendrils,
Speaker:and with another twist,
Speaker:suddenly it was his to take.
Speaker:And with that sudden flooding roar,
Speaker:he could see what she showed.
Speaker:Lines of silver shone,
Speaker:a gossamer webbing that stretched out in all directions,
Speaker:overwhelming in its brightness.
Speaker:Keth dimly sensed Mna’s voice.
Speaker:“No, not everything!”
Speaker:A chuckle, and suddenly the silver no longer burned his eyes -
Speaker:but some lines remained.
Speaker:Wispy connections of argent,
Speaker:some thin, some thick,
Speaker:undulated forth from Keth.
Speaker:Most made their way upwards,
Speaker:winding up the mesa’s walls to disappear over the lip.
Speaker:“Those ones are your friends.
Speaker:They are all connected to you, in one way or another.
Speaker:Their lives are touched by yours,
Speaker:and by what you do.”
Speaker:Mna then pointed to a multitude of strands
Speaker:that stretched across the desert into the distance.
Speaker:“And those? That’s Aram’s tribe.
Speaker:Clearly you will touch their lives as well, in some way.”
Speaker:Keth watched, mesmerized.
Speaker:The silver threads flickered,
Speaker:sometimes solid and shining and brilliant, sometimes
Speaker:barely a breath of moonlight.
Speaker:“Yes, they change. They’re as uncertain of the future as you are,”
Speaker:Mna smiled. She pointed to a pair of thick silver threads,
Speaker:pulsing, that traveled from Keth across the sands towards the scrublands south of the mesa.
Speaker:“One of those is Meket.
Speaker:Looking for herbs, I believe.”
Speaker:There was an odd inflection in her tone.
Speaker:Keth turned to look at her, curiously.
Speaker:And the other? Out of the corner of his eye,
Speaker:something changed.
Speaker:Whirling back around,
Speaker:he saw the Meket-thread
Speaker:writhe, and the luminescent silver turned black.
Speaker:All along its length, it crumbled;
Speaker:black dust fell and was scattered by the wind.
Speaker:No no no! “Why didn’t you tell me!”
Speaker:Keth cried, looking back at Mna.
Speaker:She met his gaze,
Speaker:her green eyes sad,
Speaker:but said nothing.
Speaker:The watersight left him,
Speaker:but he did not care.
Speaker:Desperately he ran,
Speaker:his paws pushing for speed and purchase on the soft desert floor.
Speaker:The tranquility of the desert night,
Speaker:the breeze nuzzling at his fur
Speaker:and the whisper and rustle of the sandgrass,
Speaker:infuriated Keth. The world crumbles,
Speaker:and it is as if nothing has changed.
Speaker:Sprinting along the mesa’s wall,
Speaker:he soon sighted the gentle incline of the path that led up to the plateau.
Speaker:His tribemates would be up there,
Speaker:enjoying each other, or feasting, or asleep.
Speaker:Or dead, for all I know.
Speaker:Keth put them all behind him,
Speaker:angling away from the path and heading south.
Speaker:As he turned, something shone near the cliff,
Speaker:a sharp glint at the edge of his vision.
Speaker:Still at a run, he glanced over,
Speaker:and the world tilted,
Speaker:bright and dark. Keth found himself sprawled flat on the sand.
Speaker:The taste of earth and iron and citrus flooded his muzzle,
Speaker:and it took him several heartbeats to remember.
Speaker:A figure… Keth looked up,
Speaker:and next to the rock face nearby stood a jackal.
Speaker:He was perfect. His naked form was all a jackal could be,
Speaker:a beauty so painful that Keth was almost overcome.
Speaker:His left eye was a sun in his face,
Speaker:staring into and through Keth,
Speaker:and he felt himself laid bare,
Speaker:the shreds of his being stretched out
Speaker:until he thought they would break.
Speaker:And then Ur blinked.
Speaker:Keth vomited citrus and sand and bile,
Speaker:his spine arching with the spasms of his body.
Speaker:Staggering shakily to his feet,
Speaker:he dared to look again,
Speaker:and Ur slowly turned his head to face him.
Speaker:His eye of glowing amber stayed fixed upon Keth’s face even as his muzzle rotated,
Speaker:and soon his other eye, simply green,
Speaker:stared at him too. “Keth.” “Ur,”
Speaker:Keth managed,
Speaker:wiping his muzzle with the back of his paw, smearing it with blood and sand.
Speaker:The god was silent,
Speaker:his eyes studying him,
Speaker:one green, one burning gold.
Speaker:Fury started to bubble up again.
Speaker:“Are we being punished?”
Speaker:Keth demanded.
Speaker:“No.” Ur looked surprised,
Speaker:and Keth felt a small sense of satisfaction,
Speaker:which quickly changed to anger when the god said nothing further.
Speaker:I have had enough. It took all his effort to look away from the blazing orb of Ur’s left eye.
Speaker:Meket is out there,
Speaker:and needs me. He turned away
Speaker:and started south,
Speaker:his walk changing into a run,
Speaker:the god’s intense gaze pressing against his back.
Speaker:It was not until he entered the scrubland,
Speaker:his paws pounding along one of myriad familiar windy paths that led through the brambles and stunted trees,
Speaker:that Ur’s touch left him.
Speaker:Keth gasped for air,
Speaker:only now realizing he had all but held his breath the entire time,
Speaker:and paused, shaking.
Speaker:You’re panicking.
Speaker:Remember Meket. Stumbling on,
Speaker:he scanned frantically for Meket’s favorite spots,
Speaker:places where the shaman had been the most successful replenishing his vast collection of herbs.
Speaker:Several long and desperate moments passed as he searched,
Speaker:delving ever deeper among the thorns and trees,
Speaker:the paths becoming narrower
Speaker:and less familiar.
Speaker:He stopped, ears flat against his head,
Speaker:for ahead on the path blazed the eye of Ur.
Speaker:Upon a boulder he sat,
Speaker:paws dangling over the thorns beneath,
Speaker:and Keth watched as the god turned to face him,
Speaker:the golden eye somehow unmoving
Speaker:even as the perfect muzzle beneath it swiveled.
Speaker:Keth tore his gaze away,
Speaker:looking further down the path to where Meket lay,
Speaker:body bent awkwardly,
Speaker:crumpled and broken,
Speaker:as if he had been tossed there.
Speaker:The sand was dark with his blood.
Speaker:So much blood. Moonlight illuminated the stark white of a splintered and exposed rib,
Speaker:bright against the drenched
Speaker:and matted fur that bordered the deep tear across Meket’s side.
Speaker:The single blow had been delivered with so much force
Speaker:that it had ripped his side apart.
Speaker:Meket gazed unseeingly upward,
Speaker:the look of surprise and confusion carved into his face,
Speaker:and the eyes that had so often looked upon Keth
Speaker:with such warmth and affection
Speaker:were now agonizingly blank and cold,
Speaker:devoid of life. Keth’s vision blurred,
Speaker:and the brightness of Ur’s eye,
Speaker:ever watching, glittered and refracted across his view.
Speaker:Meket lost his jackal’s shape,
Speaker:Keth’s tears rendering him a wavering blob of night-darkened fur splashed with darkest crimson,
Speaker:interrupted by sickening white.
Speaker:Keth rubbed his paw across his eyes
Speaker:and clarity returned,
Speaker:the sharp stab of Ur’s light mixing with the growing pain of loss,
Speaker:distilling into a deeper,
Speaker:more focused agony that gripped his mind.
Speaker:He stared at the body,
Speaker:muzzle clenched. It was Aram’s work, that much was clear;
Speaker:the tear the blade had made was horribly similar to so many other wounds he had seen.
Speaker:It was well-known that Aram had put aside the smooth curve of the traditional kukri
Speaker:for a strange jagged arc,
Speaker:as if some great beast had forged its shape with savage bites,
Speaker:leaving a far crueler weapon behind.
Speaker:There was the soft,
Speaker:steady pad of paws on sand,
Speaker:and Keth turned. Aät walked unhurriedly down the path towards him,
Speaker:glancing in acknowledgment at Ur as he passed.
Speaker:He reached Keth and paused,
Speaker:looming tall and angular,
Speaker:a gaunt silhouette whose pale eyes were a sharp contrast to the flame of Ur behind him.
Speaker:He looked at Keth,
Speaker:his expression unreadable. “Ah,
Speaker:Not-Meket. Not-Not-Meket now.” “Keth,” said Keth. “Keth,” agreed Aät. “I am sorry.” Aät stepped around him and crouched in the sand next to Meket’s motionless form. His maw opened impossibly wide,
Speaker:and carefully and gently,
Speaker:pulled in all that was Meket.
Speaker:The flesh remained,
Speaker:but Meket was gone.
Speaker:Aät’s eyes were liquid moonlight,
Speaker:and as he stood he gave Keth a final look,
Speaker:a glimpse into that unutterable sadness.
Speaker:His task complete,
Speaker:Aät made his way back down the path
Speaker:and was soon lost from view.
Speaker:Keth remained, looking down upon what had been Meket.
Speaker:The cool desert breeze picked up,
Speaker:and he lost himself in watching the wind form ripples and waves in the dead jackal’s fur,
Speaker:until the pinpoint of light at the edge of his vision
Speaker:reminded him that Ur was there,
Speaker:still atop the boulder,
Speaker:still watching. Keth walked over
Speaker:and forced himself to look up
Speaker:and meet Ur’s eyes. “You know what to do,”
Speaker:Ur stated, as if it were never in question.
Speaker:Keth nodded, continuing past,
Speaker:back the way he came.
Speaker:The mesa was as he had left it, to Keth’s relief.
Speaker:At least Aät waits a little longer.
Speaker:Many had retired to their tents,
Speaker:but some revelers continued on,
Speaker:their voices mingling,
Speaker:troubles set aside until the approaching dawn.
Speaker:It can wait. Let them enjoy the night a little longer.
Speaker:Keth’s own tent was not far,
Speaker:and he barely noticed that it was undamaged,
Speaker:seemingly untouched by Aät,
Speaker:before sleep claimed him.
Speaker:With dawn came Keth’s news.
Speaker:Barely contained fury seethed as Meket’s body was recovered.
Speaker:But there was no time;
Speaker:grief would have to wait,
Speaker:and Keth was sure Meket would have understood.
Speaker:Under his calm insistence,
Speaker:the tribe set out into the desert
Speaker:to meet Aram and re-issue Meket’s challenge.
Speaker:This was the the 1 of 2 parts
Speaker:of “Water” by Utunu,
Speaker:read for you by Khaki,
Speaker:your faithful fireside companion.
Speaker:Tune in next time
Speaker:to find out how Keth, and his tribe,
Speaker:fare as they meet Aram’s tribe at the dueling-place.
Speaker:As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,
Speaker:or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.
Speaker:Thank you for listening
Speaker:to The Voice of Dog