Fire & Water
Howl, the wolf, feels the heat of blue flames lapping at his tail and forcing him to run faster than he ever has before. His brown fur ripples all over his body and spittle flies from his open, panting mouth. The flames reflect a glint of fear in his pale aqua eyes as he sprints up a hill and away from the searing heat. Far below, he can hear running water, but the surrounding air is as dry as a desert bone.
Whoosh! A fireball sails past his head and erupts against a tree, setting the branches on fire. He cuts to the left and runs toward a cliff covered with trees, branches, and long vines. He can hear the crackling sound of a second fireball closing in. Howl leaps off of the cliff and reaches for the branches and vines. The air shimmers all around him, and he changes into his hooman form in the blink of an eye. Thanks to the blur of motion, it is difficult to see him clearly. He is without doubt the same old wide-eyed Howl, the boy wizard, but he is now near the end of his teens, instead of near the beginning. A unique effect of time spent in his avatar state. There is more hair on his body and face, and the shadow from the trees covers him with a look of camouflaged spots.
His hands are bigger and callused, like his paws. He grabs a vine with practiced skill and slides down the vine and under the roaring fireball. He sets foot on the ground below and turns back into a wolf. Howl quickly stretches to get back into his own skin, then he looks up at the ledge and sees another fireball shoot past. He steps back and crosses the path of a cool river breeze. Feeling moisture in the air, he calls out to the water down below. A second fireball explodes at the ledge above as his pursuer comes closer. Water gathers and swells around him, which he forms into a ball and launches up to the ledge with centrifugal force.
The water bomb sails past the ledge and splashes the trees above. He can hear the hiss of fire. He builds up two water balls and throws them in quick order. The first ball sails past the ledge and splashes the trees.
Just then, Bertha, the grey wolf, rushes over the ledge with a fireball loaded and ready to throw. Her emerald eyes shine like spotlights, and her fur is awash in a glow of blue flames, with a thin accent of red and yellow close to her skin. Bertha has been timing her brother’s throws and knows just when to strike. Whoosh! A hydroball sails past and splashes above her. She rushes out to throw a fireball.
SPLOOSH! Bertha rushes smack dab into a second hydroball that catches her square in the face, knocks her back up over the ledge, and douses her flame.
Howl crouches down and readies himself for the next attack. His eyes sparkle like light rays in water.
“Ding, ding, ding,” cousin Peat comes trotting over from a spectator’s distance.
“Score is two all,” Peat says.
“Yes,” Howl howls and pumps his paw in victory.
Peat is a handsome grey wolf and the cousin of Howl and Bertha, nephew of Queen Kalea, and son of alpha and Wolf Commander, Bur. Peat has a twin brother, Woof, and an older sister, Moss. Moss is from the first litter and they are from the second. A fact that she likes to remind them of as the need arises.
Peat is not magic, but he has luxurious soft hair, which he has discovered in Howl’s company, is often more drip than drip-dry. He also shares a common trait with his siblings of deep turquoise eyes and an innate understanding of languages. Back during the battle for the hills, Peat spotted bomb targets for the billy goats by listening to the approaching soldiers. This was fairly easy, because they stomped along, smelled, and yelled orders that Peat could understand, “left, right, up, down, over thar.”
Peat also has a knack for finding humour in dark times. Bertha and Howl both rolled with laughter when Peat told them about dropping rocks on soldier’s heads. They didn’t laugh about the soldier’s gruesome deaths per se, as much as Peat’s funny voices and humourous delivery.
“Truce,” Bertha calls out from above.
She cautiously emerges and comes down from the ledge, soaked to the bone.
“You win, you win,” she says.
She slowly approaches Howl and Peat. Water drips down her legs. As soon as she gets close enough, she shakes for all she is worth. Water sprays out toward Peat and Howl.
“Ahh,” Peat says as the water blasts him.
Howl instinctively shields himself with his ability, and bats the spray over to his left, straight onto Peat.
“AAH!!” Peat yells. “Come on.”
They all laugh as Peat shakes himself dry.
Bertha looks at Howl.
“You have really improved your changes, little brother,” Bertha says.
“Thanks,” Howl says.
“You were lucky I only used twenty percent of my power on the fireballs,” Bertha teases.
Howl looks at her and quips, “You were lucky I only used five.”
When Howl first returned to Grimsland, he learned that the bite from Takori was not poisonous, but it was highly infectious. As any wizard can tell you, dragons prefer raw flesh over fruit salads, which does not equate to good oral hygiene. You might think fire breathing is sterilizing, but a dragon’s flames typically ignite in front of their faces and not in their mouths. In Takori’s case, she can handle a mouthful of fire, but it leaves her with a sensation of eating a spicy pepper crop.
As a wolf, Howl would have licked the wound compulsively, until it was clean. However, Howl, the boy wizard, wrapped the injury once at the dragon’s lair and then once again at the castle. The castle physician slapped some ointment on it and gave it a clean bandage. The doctor also recommended the benefits of bloodletting, but Howl gave the doctor a look that conveyed a hard no.
By the time he returned to the den, the wound was already rife with infection, but Queen Kalea didn’t need a doctor to tell her that. She wagged her tail as he entered, then touched her nose to his and licked his face.
“My beautiful boy is home,” she said.
As for Shepherd Grim, he felt a wave of relief that Howl was home safe and sound. He knew he placed a heavy burden on his son’s young shoulders, so he came in closer for a group hug.
Kalea then suddenly pulled away and looked at Grim.
“His nose is hot,” she said. “And I smell infection.”
Grim looked at his wife and then looked at his son.
“You heard the boss,” Grim said. “Let’s see your nose.”
Grim plunked his nose onto Howl’s nose with all the sentimental charm of a doctor’s finger. Howl looked around, trying to avoid eye contact with his dad.
“I’m glad to see nothing’s changed,” Howl said.
Grim pulled away and turned to Kalea.
“Yeah, he’s hot,” he said.
Grim then used his paw to make Howl turn and show his injured leg. The dragon bite carried over from his human arm to his front leg. Grim sniffed the wound as he poked around the area.
“Your smith friend did a good job of stitching you up,” Grim observed. “But remind me to tell the Bowden doctors about antibiotics.”
Grim ordered immediate bed rest for Howl and prescribed a regiment of magic elixirs and lotions. Howl’s infection nearly cost him a leg, but all he cared about was missing the pivotal battle. He lost close friends at the Battle of the Hills. Friends he would have saved by being there.
Over the course of the next two months, his physical wounds healed enough, so he was again up and about. He stepped outside for the first time in a while, felt the cool breeze on his furry face, and breathed deep. The air smelled sweet, and he was just glad to be outside, standing on all four feet. Everywhere he looked, life was carrying on, and the animals went about with the usual end of summer routine of gathering food stores for the coming winter months.
Bertha thinks back to earlier in the week, arriving at the Grimsland HQ caves and greeting everyone along the way.
“Hi,” “How are the kids?” “Is he in?”
As she approaches the library entrance, she slows down and creeps quietly forward. She sneaks in, hoping to surprise her father. She finds shepherd Grim leaning over the magic ocean map to track the position of the Raunfit ships. He is still a shepherd and has his front paws up on the tables.
He is talking to himself and strategizing. Bertha sees that the magic quill is actively dictating Grim’s thoughts on the war effort.
Grim does not hear her enter, but she is certain that the magic quill noticed and marked her arrival time in the log. Bertha sneaks up behind him and loudly steps to attention.
“Bertha, reporting as instructed, sir!” she barks.
Grim jumps and then turns and scowls at her.
“What in the world?” he asks.
She laughs and motions with her eyes toward that quill.
“Oh, sorry,” he says, then looks at the quill. “Pause.”
The quill returns to the penholder and rests.
“Mom said you were looking for me,” Bertha says. “What’s up?”
“When are you leaving for the southern peaks?” Grim asks.
“Not soon enough,” Bertha says. “Ash has got me all over the place, helping clear tunnels. I think my hawk spirit might be claustrophobic.”
Bertha stops speaking and watches ship markers moving on the map.
“With any luck, I will leave in a few days,” she says. “Do you have a message for me to deliver?”
Grim thinks for a moment and then turns to his writing desk.
“Quill,” he calls out. “Remind me to record a communique for Bertha.”
The quill writes a brief note and rests again. Grim turns back to Bertha with an earnest expression on his face.
“I’d like you to bring Howl with you on the trip.”
Bertha opens her mouth to object, but Grim continues.
“The coalition search patrols have been moving every day, so no more solo runs,” he says.
“You know I can smell soldiers half a klick away,” she says.
“Look,” Grim says. “The soldiers are not all as dumb as you think. I don’t want you getting caught out there alone.”
“Fine,” Bertha says. “I’ll see if Nola can escort me out of the GMZ. She can just fly back.”
“No good. Your sister is on patrol out at sea,” Grim says. “Take your brother. He can watch your back.”
Bertha looks annoyed, so he jumps down from the table and activates his transformation shimmer. She looks away to give Grim a moment of privacy.
“Bertha,” Grim calls her name.
She turns back, but Grim has not changed. He remains in his shepherd form, surrounded by a glowing sparkle. She has never witnessed a shimmer sustained before and has only ever seen turbulent glimpses of her own.
He speaks slowly, “Your avatar fills you with calm and serenity, but your brother feels human emotions that make no sense to a wolf.”
Grim allows his shimmer to fade without transforming.
“Take him with you,” he continues. “He needs to get away for a while to quiet his mind and allow his wolf instincts to return.”
Bertha nods her head and lowers her eyes, but then she looks up with a question on her lips.
“If Howl’s coming with me, who’s he going to return with?”
Before the week’s end, Bertha found herself back on the trail, running toward the dragon’s southern lair, with Howl and their cousin Peat Burson.
She has made this run many times, bringing messages between Grim and Takori. Yes, a bird could deliver a message stick much faster, but you try to get a dragon to bite down on a magic stick. Bertha remembers that Nola once tried to deliver a magic message stick, but Takori immediately spit it out. Loud uninvited voices yelling in her mind. Takori wasn’t having it and glared at Nola.
“No, no, this won’t do,” she said.
Nola did not speak dragon, but she knew this was not the desired outcome. She cautiously hopped on the ground toward the dropped stick, planning to try again.
Takori watched her hop forward, so she made a slight sidestep and her large armoured foot covered the stick. Then she blew a puff of hot wind at Nola.
“Fly away, little bird,” Takori said
Nola opened her wings and let the hot air lift her up and away from Takori. She flew away and stole a quick glance over her shoulder. Takori did not follow, but she flexed her wings to show that she could.
“Next time, bring a translator,” Takori called out.
Nola did not know what Takori was yelling. She was just glad she wasn’t getting chased by the massive winged beast. As soon as Nola returned safely back home, Grim asked her to return with Bertha and himself. So, that is what she did: two wolves and a shepherd dog. Grim’s mangy coat was getting thicker to match the changing season and his once black coat was now silver grey.
Nola and Bertha were both honestly surprised their ancient father kept pace with the kids. They even laughed because Grim actually looked cool, jumping over logs and brush, even wearing a fanny pack that held his wizard robe and sandals. They know he casts a spell before they start each run. He glows and shimmers for a moment and then runs. Unseen to the eye, his spell provides external enhancement to his legs and other motions. The magic absorbs the heavy lifting and makes a hard run feel like a meandering stroll.
By the time they arrived at Crater Lake, they were all tired and parched. They all approached the water’s edge to quench their thirst in the cool lake.
“Hang on,” Nola said to the others.
She used her magic to whip up the water and make three arching fountains to drink from.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s filtered.”
She drank from the middle fountain.
Bertha and Grim drank from the other fountains.
Grim stopped drinking and looked at Nola.
“Normally I would say nobody likes a showoff,” Grim began, “but man, that’s some good water.”
Bertha finally stopped drinking and water dripped from her face.
“That hit the spot, thanks,” she said to her sister.
“Hey, help me out here?” Grim said and gestured to his travel pack.
Bertha approached and helped him unfasten the clasp. Grim picked it up in his teeth and walked behind a large rock. After a minute, he reappeared as Grim, the wizard, wearing his robe and sandals. The running pack slung across his chest and he ran an old hairbrush through his bushy grey hair. Nola and Bertha looked at each other with shared curiosity.
“What are you doing?” Nola asked.
“Trying to be presentable,” Grim said, “to meet the empress.”
To no actual surprise, Takori regards Grim with deep respect. He saved the life of her adoptive father, Taru the tortoise. Grim also speaks tortoise so they can communicate, albeit slowly, through Taru.
“Hey Lolo,” Bertha says to Nola.
“What?” Nola replies.
“Do you know what everybody is saying?” she asks.
Nola laughs.
“No, I don’t speak dragon and dad is talking turtle or something,” Nola says.
“Hey dad,” Bertha calls out.
Grim, Takori, and Taru all stop talking and look at her.
“Yeah, so I can understand what everybody is saying,” Bertha says with a look of befuddlement on her face.
“Did you just speak, dragon?” Takori asks.
“Did you just speak, tortoise?” Taru asks a moment later.
Needless to say, the second delegation fared much better at diplomacy and dialogue after that.
Bertha become a regular messenger to the southern peaks and soon became a student of two disciplines. She is more than capable of making the journey on her own, but enjoys the company, all the same. Peat and Howl are both wearing sheepskin vests with pouches on both sides for carrying messages, basic first aid kits, and other unseen items.
“How’s the shoulder doing?” Bertha asks Howl.
“I’m ok,” he says. “Still, feels stiff sometimes.”
The trio stop for a moment to drink from a stream and to share some dried meats from their packs.
Howl says, “We’re making pretty good time.”
“Think we have enough time to get in a little training?” he asks.
Peat looks up and water drips from his face.
“Alright sports fans,” Peat says. “We have a challenge for a rematch. The score is two to one in favour of Bertha.”
Peat looks at Bertha and asks, “Are you ready?”
“If Howl wants to lose again,” she smirks.
Howl takes off his vest and gives it to Peat.
“Bring it on, sister,” Howl replies.
Peat carries Howl’s vest to a safe distance and calls out.
“Fighters, take your positions,” Peat yells.
“On, three, two, one, fight!”
After a few more hours of intense sparring, without a clear winner, they decide to settle in for the evening. Fortunately, Bertha and Howl are both unharmed. Bertha dried off with vigorous shakes, and apart from a distinctive smell of burnt hair, Howl only has a few singed hairs on his tail.
The wolves find a nice patch of grass near the river, where Howl catches fish for their dinner. While wolves rarely enjoy fish meat, Howl floats a dozen fish to the shore so they can each have three or four fish heads to satisfy their hunger. When they finish, Howl washes the remains back into the river and they all curl up close to one another to look at the stars and chat.
“How much further until we reach the southern peaks?” Peat asks.
“If we get an early start, we should be able to get there by midday tomorrow,” Bertha says.
“I am a little nervous about the visit,” Peat says. “This is my first as Grim’s official messenger.”
“You’ll be fine,” Bertha says. “Just be respectful and rely on your training.”
“Thanks. Goodnight, Bertha,” Peat says, and then closes his eyes.
“Goodnight, Peat,” she replies. “Goodnight, Howl.”
She looks over at Howl. He is already sleeping, but he is whimpering softly and his legs are kicking. He will have another long night of restless dreams.
