Vacant Faith

Written by Melody Hewson

Copyright Melody Hewson 2015

Smashwords Edition

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A young girl stretched out her legs to
balance herself as she reached for the last piece of fruit still
within reach of where she sat. The thick limb on which she perched
shook slightly with her movements, causing the leaves to whisper
among themselves. Scattered around the base of the tree lay more
fruit, most of which she had thrown down there herself. A large
palomino stallion placidly ate the best of her offerings, his
golden coat dappled by the shade of the tree and a riding blanket
resting across his back.

The girl looked down at the horse as she took
a bite of her prize, chewing thoughtfully. “Daddy,” She finally
asked between bites. “Why are you a horse so much?”

The stallion lifted his head to look up at
the girl as she spoke to him, ears twitching uncertainly. When
nothing further was said, the stallion turned his head to look
around him, as if to ensure the field was indeed empty of all but
the two of them before turning his attention back to the girl in
the tree. “What brought that up, Alina?” The horse called up to her
after a moment's hesitation, the words malformed as equine mouth
tried to form sounds it was not meant to make.

Alina shrugged and swung her legs, taking
another bite of her fruit. “I 'unno.” She replied. “I was just
wondering. You always tell me not to change shape where someone
could see me.”

The stallion tossed his head and snorted,
then looked back up at the little girl thoughtfully. “I tell you
that because you're still too young to take such dangerous chances.
When you get older and can hold your new form longer it will be
less of a problem. You know this, dear heart.”

“Yeah, I know.” She replied in an exasperated
tone, aware that he was attempting to dodge her question. “But why
do
you
do it?”

The stallion twitched his ears and turned
his head to take a long look at the fields surrounding them, as if
hoping for a distraction or interruption to make itself known. When
he found none, he finally looked back up at the small girl still
resting in the branch over his head. “Well, I suppose I choose to
be a horse because its what I am, so I find solace in it.”

Alina scrunched up her face in concentration.
“Soh-, soh-, that word you just said. What does that mean?”

“Solace.” The stallion replied, sounding the
word out slowly. “It means peace and comfort.” He lowered his head
to nibble at another of the dropped fruits.

“What do you need soh-... Peace and comfort
for?” Alina asked, refusing to let the subject go so easily. “Did I
do something wrong again?"

The stallion let out a whinny that sounded
like a laugh, but his eyes were serious when he looked up at the
small girl again. “Of course not, my dear one. You and your mother
have brought me only happiness every day you have been a part of my
life. But before either of you came there was a lot that went
wrong, and I don't know if you're old enough to hear that story
yet.”

“Of course I am!” Alina insisted. “I'll be
six in a few more cycles. I'm old enough for anything!”

The stallion let out another chuckling
nicker. “Goodness! So old already? Why, you're nearly an elder,
aren't you!” Not amused by his teasing, Alina stared down at the
stallion in childish anger. “Alright, dear heart, climb on down
from there and I'll tell you about my life before I met your
mother.”

Alina dropped her half-eaten fruit before she
hopped down from the branch, then watched the stallion expectantly.
The horse's skin began to shiver, then it almost seemed to melt as
the animal began to shrink in size. His long, graceful neck was
pulled back into his body and his legs buckled as they lost the
ability to hold up his shifting bulk. Finally the last of the horse
faded away, leaving only a naked man laying beneath the shade of
the tree.

The man's hair was the same blonde of the
horse's mane, and his tanned skin was almost as golden as the coat
of the stallion he had been. He stood up slowly and wrapped the
blanket that had been on his back around his waist for the sake of
human decency before he sat back down to lean against the tree.
Alina smiled once the process was finished and gave a happy squeal.
“Yay, story time!” She exclaimed with childish exuberance before
she skipped over and bounced to the ground beside him, leaning
against his side.

The man who had been a horse smiled and
wrapped one of his arms loosely about the small girl to give her an
affectionate hug. “Yes, time for a story, I suppose. Although I was
hoping you would be a little older before you started asking these
kinds of questions.” He sighed wearily, but the smile returned to
his face when he looked at her. “Remind me, dear one, have I or
your mother ever told you about the witchwolves?”

The girl's face scrunched again as she
searched her memory, but the word was completely new to her. “No,
what's a witchwolves?”

Her father chuckled and gave her another
squeeze of his arm. “You mean 'what's a witchwolf?' The 's' on the
end of 'witchwolves' means more than one.” He corrected her gently.
“That's not really what they are, of course, simply what the humans
named them. Humans believed them to be the pets of sorcerers or
witches in disguise. But since they had no name for themselves, it
is what I'll have to use.”

“Why don't they have a name for themselves?”
Alina interrupted.

The man looked out across the sun-warmed
grass, the corner of his mouth pulling downward thoughtfully. “I
suppose, it was because they didn't need one. They knew what they
were, and so did everything else that mattered. A bird no more
needs a name for its kind than a river needs to be told where the
ocean is. They simply know.” He turned his head to smile down at
the girl, playfully touching the tip of one finger to the end of
her nose. “Just like we don't need a name for ourselves. We know
what we are, right?”

Alina giggled as she swatted away his hand.
“Because we're not human.” She stated with a tone of authority, the
words well worn by repeated use.

“That is correct, my most precious treasure.
We are no more human than the bird or the river.” The man patiently
explained. “We merely borrow their form for the sake of convenience
and safety.”

Alina scrunched up her face again,
concentrating on the word that had confused her. “Con- con-”

“Convenience.” He said again. “It means to
make something easier. If the humans knew that we could change our
forms and that we were related to witchwolves they would make
trouble for us.”

“Con-ven-ance.” She attempted again, looking
up to her father for confirmation that she had been correct.
“Con-ven-ance makes things easier.”

Her father looked down at her with a proud
and patient smile, the ritual continued. “You're very close. With a
bit of practice I think you will learn how to say it correctly. But
that's close enough for now.”

“So what happened to Gramma?” Alina asked,
unwilling to let go of the original subject. “Why haven't I met her
before?”

The smile faded away from the man's face and
again he turned his gaze away. “The humans happened.” He sighed
sadly, eyes unfocusing as his mind slipped back to a time long
past. He ran his free hand through his long blond hair before
letting it fall back down to his lap. “Just as they happened to so
much of Eidra. And yet without them, I wouldn't be here. Neither
would you or your mother. You see, humans brought horses and many
other animals to this world. And I was but a colt when Mother found
me, no more than a few days old when I fell into a river and
drowned. At least, that's what she told me. I have no memory of
anything before I awakened on the shore, sopping wet and shivering
as I coughed the water from my lungs. But, I suppose you could say
that was the moment I was born.”

“Daddy,” Alina interrupted again. “Isn't a
colt a baby horse?”

“Very good, my dearest, a colt is indeed a
baby horse.” He praised her. “A male baby horse. I was an ordinary
horse when I was first born. But your grandmother changed me and
made me more like her. I gained an intelligence and awareness I
never would have had as an ordinary animal.” He gave his daughter
another affectionate squeeze. “And unlike you, heart of my heart, I
was not born a shifter.”

“Daddy, if you were just an ordinary baby
horse,” Alina spoke up again. “And she was a witchwolves, I mean,
wolf, why would she change you?

The man looked thoughtful again, inhaling
slowly as he decided on the right words. “Well, probably because
she was lonely. She had lost her own family and was far too old to
start a new one. The humans, ever fearful of what they can't
understand and control, had put a bounty on the witchwolves. A
bounty means that they paid a reward to anyone who killed them, The
bounty was far too successful, killing almost every witchwolf and
witchmare on Eidra in the span of a few short years. Coincidence
alone had saved my mother, but the world is a very lonely place
when you're alone and being hunted.”

Alina frowned, recalling the cautionary tales
told to her often by her own mother, warning of the cruelty and
evil of humans. Many were the nights growing up when Alina had
heard stories about how the humans had come to her world as
invaders and colonists, killing most of the native creatures to
replace them with their own and turn Eidra into a second Earth. Her
mother said that the war had gone on for almost a hundred years
before they were finally defeated, but both worlds had been left
forever scarred, and the descendants that remained still had all
the cruelty of their predecessors.

“When she saw that I would live,” The man
continued. “She named me Werion, and I called her Mother. For years
it was just the two of us, avoiding humans and their traps. Then I
gained a sister.” Werion paused to chuckle softly. “She, like
Mother, had lost the rest of her pack and become a nomad, but she
was still very young and a terrible hunter. She was half-mad with
hunger when she first saw me, a big, tasty looking horse, so she
tried to take a bite out of me!” He emphasized his words with a
playful growl and began tickling his daughter's belly, causing her
to cry out in delight as she squirmed and tried desperately to push
his hand away.

“Daddy, stop that!” Alina demanded through
her laughter. “You know I hate being tickled!”

Werion continued for a few more seconds
before allowing his hand to be shoved aside. “Is that right?” He
said in feigned surprise. “I must have forgotten.”

“Yeah right!” Alina protested. “You never
forget anything!”

Werion's smile began to fade at her words,
his gaze dropping to the ground. “No, I suppose I don't at that.
But I wish I could.”

The girl frowned also, regretting her choice
of words even though she didn't understand why they had made her
father so unhappy. “Daddy, tell me more about the witchwolves.”

The smile returned to Werion's lips, if not
his eyes. “Let's see, where was I. Ah yes, my sister. Her name was
Rowna and she was barely grown from a pup herself. Mother convinced
her not to eat me, and together the three of us found food. I never
did acquire a taste for meat myself, but Mother and Rowna fed
well.”

Alina rested her head against her father's
shoulder and closed her eyes to imagine him as a horse running side
by side with a large shaggy animal that she thought of as a
witchwolf. She then added a second shaggy beast, picturing the
three of them as a family. “What happened to her family,
daddy?”

Werion sighed softly. “Well, she told us that
it was on her first hunt with her pack that the humans came. It was
a joyous day because all of the pups were finally old enough to go
out with the adults. They were near no human settlements and none
of them had ever even seen a human before, they had only heard
about them in stories. But the humans knew that the pack was there.
Using fire and long handled spears that they were able to throw
long distances, the witchwolves were driven into a trap and killed.
Only Rowna and one of her brothers escaped, but her brother got
trampled when the two of them attempted to hunt for themselves,
leaving her alone. The last of the spring pups and the last of her
family. Mother and Rowna were the last of their kind.”