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Authors: Nicola McDonagh

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BOOK: Echoes from the Lost Ones
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I walked with the males, who behind Aiken’s back took it upon themselves to poke and prod me as they tramped past. I flicked their probing paws away and they took to assuming a most leering look. Some pursed their lips and made a smooch noise, whilst others let their tongues roll around their mouths. I quickened my pace so as to be nearer to Aiken, my only defender against these lovelorn pubescents.

The thickness of the forest waned a bit and I was able to discern some high up blue. Although dread-filled in the extreme, I found it a comfort when I raised my eyes to discover that the sun was still on my right. It soothed me to think that I was on the correct path despite being hemmed in by panting males.

Things buzzed around my face and big-eyed whirling, flappy creatures skidded across my head and arms. I swatted them away and shuddered.

“Babbie, to be feared of the creepy crawlies,” a sneer-teen said. The others guffawed loudly and brushed past me as though I were nowt but a swaying twig. I sniffed, squared my shoulders and walked on.

A sound I had not heard since my first try at birdycalling halted the march. I cocked my ear upwards and heard Raptors screech screeching above our heads. I snickered at the so-called ‘Nearlymen’ when they ducked down and covered their heads with their hands until the circling birds of prey flew off. I stood straight and unflinching, showing them my fearlessness. Never hurts to have the upper udder, as they say.

Especially when there are twice as many of them than you and especially when you’re as scared as a birdybird landing on the ground.

Aiken was the first to stand, followed by the rest, who coughed and slapped their thighs to indicate they lacked sissyness. The ‘dult pointed his stubby finger at a tall, slim juve, who gulped and looked over his shoulder.

“Gifre, yes ye laddie, run on ahead and let Brennus know what’s what.”

“Aye Aiken, I’ll travel swift,” the teenbull said and ran away from us.

“See that ye do. A catch like this is proper welcome. Particularly in these hungry times.”

His words caused me to take a long look at the scrawny males around me. The bulkiness of their clothes made them look all-broad and muscle bound. But I caught the sight of collarbones protruding from their shirts.

I put my hand on the pulled-tight belt around my trousers, stared more deeply at my unwelcome companions and recognised the look of want in all their sallow faces. No wonder my presence was well sought after.

“We walk silent so as not to entice the Wolfies. Wirt, keep the rear,” Aiken said. I followed behind the slow moving machos afraid of both hound and Agro alike.

“Sorry.”

“What?” I said and turned my head. The Nearly called Wirt galumphed his way towards me. The long sleeves of his too-big green tunic flapped around his arms and I saw how thin his wrists were. He gave me a sadly grin and I could not help but offer back a look of forgiveness so earnest was the face he presented. He came up alongside me and took several sneaky peeks, before I stopped ready to swipe.

“Apologies. I did not mean to peer so. It’s just that I have never seen a Bringer before, or been so close to one with such power.”

I lowered my fists and patted Wirt on the shoulder. A cloud of dirt puffed into the air and I caught a whiff of something not quite fresh. They have a smell these teens. It’s not a nice pong, not nice at all.

“Ye wrinkle yer nose at my unwashedness.”

“No, yes, sorry. It’s just that where I come from such musky a scent does not filter though to trouble our senses much.”

Wirt sniffed his own armpits and frowned. “Ye have never seen dirt before?”
 

“Of course. Just not at home. My ma and pa were always clean. So scrubbed spotless that no damn virus could touch them. Or so they thought. Too squeaky for their own good, that’s what Santy Breanna said. Suppose she was right. First trip to the edge of the Beyondness, they catch a cold. My guess is you and yours fight infection with a layer of grime.”

“Rightly so. It has been our way ever since the Lastgreatplague. Nay, look, we have lagged behind. Will ye follow on fast?” I nodded and we hurried after the rest.

The trees became dense, so much so that I could not distinguish between trunk and twisted vine. The Bulls fairly sped on ahead, running over the muddy, thorn-ridden ground as though it were strewn in fine hand-woven mats. I stepped more heedfully, ducking from low branches that swiped at my face when a Nearly pushed his way through.

“What brings ye into our territory?” Wirt said low into my ear.

I do not know why, but I felt that he was a trustworthy sort, and I blabbed in full my one and only purpose.

“I come in search of my bro-bro and the Agro who stole him. Mark my words, those who think me weak and feeblewomb, I will find and kill the crotchless clod. See if I don’t.”

“A worthy mission, but I am surprised ye mam and da let ye travel alone.”

“I was a tot when they died, and my bro-bro still sucking.”

“I am sorry for ye loss. Ye must miss them greatly.”

“Not so much. The only thing I remember about them was that they always smelled freshly washed.”

“When one so close to us no longer roams, the tribe decides where their nearest and dearest shall next abide. Did the Cityfolk do same for ye and yers?”

“Cityfolk do not care about anyone but themselves. Too caught up in their own sterile world, too afraid they might catch something off someone else to stress themselves about the fate of two young ‘uns orphaned.”

A crick-crack noise to my left caused me to stop. I swivelled round expecting to see a movement in the undergrowth, but all I saw was a teenbull hitching his skirt up so that he could piss against a tree.

I shuddered at the thought that there was nowhere for him to wash his hands, then shuddered again when I saw him wipe said dirty mitt across the front of his chest. Wirt shrugged his shoulders, rolled his eyes and came up close.

“What became of ye after yer parents died?”

“Santy Breanna took us in and introduced me to all kinds of buggalugs. Not in the place we lived of course.”

“What? Ye were raised by one of ‘The Special Army of the Neworld Territories?’”

“No, I wish. Santy Breanna was destined now to live with us in our Cityhome”
 

“She must have missed the nomadic life some?”

“Rightly so I guess, but she did take us on camping trips into the one-and-only park. The times spent amongst the greenly stuff was apt. Made me strong, made me almost as brave as she. Her name suits. For she is the bravest female I have ever known, but then she used to be Backpacker in the Beyondness.”

“I have heard of these Backpackers. Aiken said that they do not fear the Agros.”

“‘Bout only folk that don’t. When I am of age I too wish to be a Backpacker and give the Agros a taste of my fists.”

I felt a sharp thud in the middle of my back and turned to see Aiken all narrow-eyed. He put a finger to his lips. “Sshh. Do not make so much noise. Wolfies abound hereabouts. Move without chitter-chatter.”

“My fault, wiser man. I engaged the auger in-”

“That I do not doubt. Ye have a sissified way with ye to be sure. Now tramp silent or ye will be punished.”

I saw Wirt wince at Aiken’s words and found myself warming to this friendlier than the rest juve.

A rush of derisive chuckles rippled through the other bulls and Wirt’s face became as bright as the rising sun. For one of not too dissimilar an age as myself, I regarded his embarrassment as my own and made an effort to keep him close.

He had a way of moving that was unlike the others, a less bulky waddle that made him look as graceful as a leaf swaying in the wind. I snickered at my own poetic turn of phrase. Wirt turned his head, glanced at my cheesy grin and showed me his discoloured teeth. At least I’d found one Nearly who wished nowt from me but chat.

Chapter Two

Rough Night Amongst The Nearlymen

All the while we trudged I listened for sounds of Agro. On my own not so hard, but with all these teens plid-plodding heavily, I found it impossible. Plus, sort of hard to concentrate on said task whilst constantly smacking their probing paws off my behind.

I walked closer to Wirt and the Nearlys kept their distance. The trees began to thin a bit and I was able to get a better look at my surroundings that were so different from Cityplace. Everything there was made from metal and concrete, all so geometrically perfect, and all so bland and cold. Here there was variation on a goodly scale.

I began to take an interest in the place they were taking me to, and whispered into Wirt’s ear, “Is it true that you live inside charred trees?” He nodded and I continued, “I saw one in a photomag. Wow and then some. It was decorated with feathers and greenly stuff and looked like a present waiting to be unwrapped.” He smiled and I looked around to see if I could detect one of these organic abodes.

Nope, nadder. I didn’t see any such places in this forest. Only thing I saw was giant curly leaf things and spiky ground twigs that caught my ankles and made them bleed. The nick to my shins hurt, but not so much as the ache in my innards that came not from the monthlies but from the loss of Deogol.

All I wanted to do was to get back on track and find my bro. This abduction by the Woodsfolk males was not part of my hastily put together plan. I peered from side to side in an attempt to determine if there was a way to rid myself of them and thought I saw a means to do so, in the shape of these bulls losing concentration and marching ahead all in one glob, almost as if my presence had been forgot.

Just when I was about to create a diversion and somehow make good my escape, we came upon a clearing. Light shone down and I was able to get a proper look at this new landscape. I’d never seen so many different sorts of trees, and they were alive. The ones in Cityplace were near dead or as good as. Their magnificence blew away all thoughts of previous escape and I turned and turned looking up into their dark canopies.

I couldn’t help myself, I had to touch one. I swear when I did I felt its heart beat. I wanted to snuggle under it, to dig amongst the dry brown leaves, to delve into the soil and touch its finger roots with my own, but Aiken swatted my hand away and pushed me forward.

I fell down, but quickly recovered and sat back on my heels. I looked up and saw a real big Manlyman standing over me. He wore a faded red tunic and black plaid wrap skirt that came to his knees, which were as big as a moocows. I guessed he was in charge ‘cause all the other males bowed their heads, crossed their chests with their arms and chanted, “ Brennus! Brennus! Brennus!”

I rose and stood before him, chin out, hands on hips, careful to hide my extra fingers by keeping them behind my back; and in said pose showed him I wasn’t afraid. Inside I quivered like a dewdrop on a web and felt stinky sweat trickle down my back.

“Catcher of Birds, it is an honour to have ye close to our Nearlymen and Manlymen. Tonight ye guest with us as one of our own. Next day ye bring meat to our sitting downs.”

I puffed out my chest in defiance, and caught sight of Wirt from the corner of my eye. He stood further back from the rest and when I turned towards him, he shook his head and frowned. I gleaned more information about the state of things from his sad expression than if I had shouted at him to tell me all about this burly male. So I folded my arms and nodded, to indicate that I would carry out his wishes, knowing full well that I would do nothing of the sort.

Brennus raised his arms and head and let loose a shriek of high proportion. I felt myself being picked up and thrown over the shoulder of a Nearly. He carried me all-a-bobbing out of the clearing and into the biggest Homeoak I’d ever seen.

He stopped at the entrance, which was nowt but a large hole with a heavy coarse brown cloth hanging over it. I squiggled myself free of the unwashed Nearlyman and smoothed down my tunic. It had ridden up higher than I would have liked during my ungainly transportation. He huffed and puffed and murmured in my general direction.

“Ye are heavier than ye look.”

“And you are weaker than you should be,” I said and turned my back on the rudeness of the teen. Not his fault, though. He was right. I was heavier than I seemed due to my invisible Synthbag, which was crammed full of necessities and stuff to help me on my travels. I would not dare reveal that I owned such a precious and valuable thing to these oafs.

When I had recovered from my insult I pulled the makeshift door to one side and stepped in. I hadn’t expected such a dull exterior to have such a cheerful and bright interior. It was one big round room lit by fizzing tar sticks stuck in the floor. Their light made crazy shadows that danced and twitched like ghosties on All Hallows Eve.

The dandiest woven grass mats in all kinds of colours lay here and there on the ground. There were shelves jutting out from the walls of the tree trunk, with stiff hammock-like beds nailed onto them and in the centre was a great fire with black smoke rising up and billowing out from a hole at the top.

I counted twenty-six Nearlymen and five Manlymen gathered around the fire. All were sitting on thick rugs, supping something hot from clay bowls. A cauldron swung above the flames attached to a tripod made from what looked like old bits of rusted metal bars. The smell that oozed from it was goodly and my stomach gave out an impetuous growl.

“Come, Bringer, sit and share our grub,” Brennus said.

I cast my eye about in search of Wirt, as I had lost track of him when I was lugged into the place. I spied him standing beside one of the light sticks near the entrance. He was alone without any food, his head bowed and his feet tracing circles in the dust.

A low chuckle filled with lech escaped from the dribble mouth of a Nearly sat opposite to where I stood. The rest of the teenbulls had a look of yearn and I swear I could hear their nads contract when I moved towards the sitting ‘dults.

Pulling my Synthowool cape tighter across my chest, I sat amongst the Manlymen. They stared at my face and down belows, and I quickly crossed my legs. If I believed in the Greenman, I would have prayed for his protection. But I don’t, so I just sat and ate the stew they gave me hoping I would be safe.

BOOK: Echoes from the Lost Ones
6.48Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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