Lentz of the Wolf - Beginings (UPDATED!)

"Grandpa!", the little girl squealed as he picked her up and placed her into her hammock hung bed.  "I'm not tired anymore! I need a story!"
The boat rocked gently, naturally and smoothly rocking the little bed, which normally put little Haref to sleep quickly.  In high summer, the coast rarely became violent and all the children of the fleet would usually sleep long and soundly.  The brazier gave the little girl's room a warm glow to ward against the coolness of the night sea.  Yellow and orange hues reflected off of every object in view; even the dog who slept soundlessly.  The grandfather was glad it no longer stared him down and howled in sad submission, as it seemed to do whenever he entered the room.
"And so you shall have it!" the wrinkled, but otherwise fairly fit, white haired man declared.  And she would have it for many nights hence; always with the same mirth and enthusiasm in his voice.  In time, she would repeat it along with him.  Other times, she would demand a new story, to which he would comply, but no other story in his vast knowledge of stories would get the encore performance this one would.
"Do you know of the world that lies between this one and your next life?" he always began.
"No?" the curious little toddler would reply.  "No!" the excited young girl would reply on cue.  "No." sarcastic young woman would reply on the rare occasion she'd ask for the story.
"The world that lies beyond this one is an interesting place, full of everything we have here in life, in spirit form, but there is only one of each of them," the old man continued, "There is only one fish,"
"There is only one shark!" she would chant as she begun to know the story better and better.
"There is only one boar."
"There is only one baboon!"
"There is only one panther."
"There is only one dolphin!"
"There is only one wolf."
"There is only one human!"
"No!" the two would shout, smiling and giggling together, the child and the old man, as they both knew what came next.
"There was a time when there was no human in the world beyond.  Before our people grew up, we did not need another human to represent us.  The ape of the world beyond did well enough, gathering our souls when we passed and trading them to other animals to be reborn anew."
"Yes Grandpa, but over time, the Wak changed, and left the form of the ape." the youth would chime in.
"That's right Haref.  And our people needed someone in the world beyond to guide us in our new role.
"Then, as is now, we were a seafaring people, but during those days we also lived on the land."
"Did we build boats on the land?" she had once asked when she was quite small.  When he shook his head no, she wondered, "Then where did we sleep?  Where did we smoke fish?"
"We had places called houses, we bound the wood of trees together into circles, not boat shaped ovals, and used thatched roofs with willow branches and reeds before we knew how to forge the tin and bronze above us now."
"That sounds so strange!"
The elderly man smiled.  "The memory of those days are long forgotten among us.  But maybe one day we will see them again.
"But back to the story."
"Yes!"
"You see, this was a most cherished and noble cause.  He who was sent into the world beyond would live forever, or as long as he kept to his role, but he was also the one responsible for all the souls that were or would become the people he represented.  Do you know why we see so few panthers when we take our shore trips to mine and get lumber?"
"Nef!"
"Yes, Nef of the panther is a solitary woman who is not interested much in the world of the living.  To her, the souls of panthers departed are precious, and are more like to remain untraded, and to become panthers again.  She has no desire for the souls of mere wolves, or humans like us.  And that is probably a good thing, since they are dangerous and would kill you or I easily.
"So the eldest of the Wak, the most sagacious and wise among us came together to determine how to choose the best of the Wak to represent us in the world beyond. They decided there would be a competition to ensure he who represented the Wak in the world beyond would be the strongest..."
"The smartest!" she would pipe in.
"The bravest"
"The most capable... !"
"...among us to go.  And they determined that they should send someone young, someone not already burdened with the wearies of the world.  So they held a contest among all the youths.  Villages, (that is what they used to call fleets of those houses on land!) sent their bravest lads and most cunning young women from near and far.  They ate and drank.  They sang songs we all knew but had forgotten over the years.
"Then, finally the day came that they announced the challenge."
"To build a boat!"
"Yes.  In those days, they did not travel to deepsea, as we can now.  The Wak stayed close to the safety of the shoreline.  So the youths were charged to build small boats that could get them the furthest in the dark of deepsea.  Designing the boat challenged their intelligence.  Building it tested their strength.  Making it float challenged their capability, and traveling to the dangers of deepsea challenged their courage.
"For two months, it is said, the youths toiled, first with charcoal and parchment, later with timber and iron.  Many full moon nights were filled with the sound of tinkering and hammers pounded hundreds of iron nails into boards of oak.  Even more youths became discouraged and tired.  They left for their villages and did not return.
"Finally, the day of the launch was upon them.  Earlier that morning, nobody had slept; the whole coastline was awash with bonfires and torches as the village celebrated the remaining youths.  The Wak ate well that night, roasted boar braised with a hickory glaze.  Endless fluffy loaves of maple acorn breads.  Wine and mead was given to all in generous portions.
"But by the time the sun was high, half of the youths who had launched at dawn had already turned around, hungry and scared.  The village saw more return as the sky turned a hazy purple.  When the stars began to poke out, only 5 remained and 3 of them soon headed back, feeling the cold of the night on their skin.  Well after they were out of site, Tor, the youth called out to Myr, the maiden.
"'Let us both turn around now,' he exclaimed, 'We can claim the prize together as the best of our age.  We will both be hailed as heroes.'
"Left unsaid was the story they would have to concoct to convince their family and friends that they had seen the beyond.  Implicit in his plea was that humans would remain unrepresented among the spirits.
"But Myr would entertain no such options.  She meant to win for herself and prove herself the best of everyone.
"When she didn't respond, Tor grew afraid and lonely in the open air.  He no longer competed with a human; he knew he was already racing with a spirit.  He stopped rowing and sat in his boat for a full hour before her form finally disappeared from the horizon in the sunset.
"Nobody knew what happened to Myr after that.  Tor had arrived home at dawn, saying only that she was no longer in the mortal world.  He was right.
"But about the same time Tor was reaching the shores of his home, Myr was reaching very different shores.  On the beach she saw a horse sitting besides a duck.  A little further down, a shark flopped belly down onto the sands, before changing to give himself legs to meet up with his friends.  The three were talking excitedly as any human would, enjoying the sound of the waves with the dawning of the sun.  They were startled to see the boat floating on the horizon coming towards them."
"Grandpa, don't forget the part about the change of the boat!" the little girl would have to remind him from time to time.
"Of course not!  See, in the world beyond, where there is only one of everything, everything must be the best, biggest of what it is.  When Myr passed to the world beyond, she became a full grown woman.  And her boat, it was no longer a mere boat, it was a huge ship!  It would take fifty of our frigates to fit in the ship she steered that day.
"And in those days, they did not have steam engines in our world, but Myr's new ship was propelled on its own anyway."
"It must have been magic!" Haref would interject.
"Haha, we know there is no such thing as magic in any world.  But it was an unexplained wonder.
 "So imagine, little girl, you are a horse..."
"Neeeiiiiggghh!" she would interrupt as a child,
"Minding your own business with your friends on the beach," he would continue," when you see this huge object coming at you.  Kez of the Horse got up and ran far and wide, warning everyone in the world beyond of the monstrosity that was approaching their home.  By the time Myr landed, everyone in the world beyond was there to meet her.
"She descended the plank to a huge host of every animal you can think of in the world of the living.  Parrot and junglefowl, raccoon and guinea pig, and at the head of them were the three loudest, most arrogant and proud of the spirits of the world beyond.  Ishis, of the baboon, Hetiz of the boar, and the alpha male of them all, Lentz of the wolf.
"Now, there were not many women in the world beyond.  And those who are there often hide in the shadows.  Nef, she keeps much to herself.
"But most of the animals of the world of the living see their strongest and best in the men of the species.  Before Myr even touched a foot on dry ground, the animals saw her as female, they saw her as the weaker, the less clever, the more cowardly.
"'What is this?' Ishis of the baboon screeched, 'A soul still with a body here?  Are you a sacrifice by your people to our desires?'
"Hetiz of the boar was less kind, 'If you desire your next life, we can grant that to you.' and he snarled and bore his tusks at Myr..
"'I am neither sacrifice nor despondent.  I am Myr, of the human, and I have come to claim my role among you and your council.' the human yelled, loud enough for all to hear.
"All along the beach, animals erupted in laughter, this puny human, weaker than those of the Ape to begin with, and weaker still due to her sex.
"'Let her come to me, I shall make a new little clucking hen out of her, to attend to us roosters naturally.' spoke out the junglefowl.
"'No I think she would be better to be born again, with my piglets soon on the way.  She would make a nice fat sow." declared the boar.
"And the animals went on in this way.  Nef sniffed, and stalked away, offering no help to the newcomer.  Finally, Lentz of the Wolf silenced them all with a mighty growl."
"'Idiots!  I know exactly what to do with this female human.  She is not unlike any other bitch of my kind, let us treat her as such.  And let us take this strange contraption from her.  Obviously she cannot know how to use it if she got herself lost here.'
"Surrounded by all of those animals what could Myr do?"
"She could do plenty." would reply and older Haref.
"Indeed she could.
"'This is my ship, I created it with my mind and my heart.  It obeys only my commands and it will suffer no one who disrespects me!'
"'We shall see about that mongrel.' replied Lentz of the Wolf.  He snarled and arched his back in loathing and animosity.  Not asking her permission, or even giving her a look in the eye, he made his way for the ramp to take her ship away.  Perhaps it was because he was too foolish to even look at her that she was able land her kick so precisely and so hard, but I believe she would have send that wolf spirit howling regardless of how well he was able to prepare for it.
"'I repeat, this is my ship.  You will ask for my permission to board,' she gave him another kick down the ramp.  And you will know us as human, as strong, smart, brave and capable.'
"Myr stayed in the world beyond for some time according to legend.  And she did more than just her duty.  She tamed Lentz of the Wolf so that from then on, he was known as Lentz of the Dog.  She took him to husband and bore him a child and it is said that child has taken on the mantle for humankind forevermore.
"But eventually she tired of the responsibility and left the world beyond and returned.  They say she took Tor, her old rival, as a new husband and gave him a child as well, but I doubt that.  She was far too fiery for a man who would quit so soon.  She did ensure that her people would continue and thrive, and I suspect many in the fleet are the spiritual children of Myr.  We have thrived, haven't we?"
"Yes, our boats and ships are many, our people happy, "Haref recited when she was younger,  "We get everything we need from the sea and we are given mastery of the sea from what we steal from the land."
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These days, the tellings of the story were becoming fewer and fewer, and she was thinking of other things; that practical woman she had become.  Mostly she was thinking of betrothals and her ship, and though she loved her Grandpa dearly, he was becoming less and less the center of her life and more an eccentric fool who at best served as entertainment, and at worse, a nuisance.
Tonight was going to be a good night though, the best prospect by far had invited her aboard his parents' ship for a dance and a sauna sweat.  That was how important his family was - they had a full working sauna on-board their vessel.  Haref was not in a bad position herself, thanks in part to tragedy.  Before she could remember, her parents had both died, leaving her the ship, and since she had no siblings to share, it was a fine dowry.  Her date for the evening was second son; she could offer him a chance for a life of his own.  She knew she was going into this meetings with a great hand and she wanted to savor victory.
As she sat down to her fine oak vanity, staring through the looking glass and mixing adornments on her ears and in her hair, she hummed softly.  "Fitzar", she whispered to herself, trying to make the constants and vowels sling to her head and heart favorably.  She had never met the young man, but she was determined to like him.  Haref was already tired of courting and wanted to move on with her life.
She had tried her hand at love, twice, and twice those boys had broken her heart.  Schoolchildren though they might have been, betrayal is betrayal, and she needed none of that.  She just wanted help on her ship, she just wanted somebody that would hoist the rigging when needed, pull in the catch when the nets were overfull or repair the sails from time to time.  She was not interested in being the prettiest, or the most flirty anymore.  Let those games stay with the little girls.
"My little Haref, you can do better than this.  You know you are stronger, smarter, and better than any man in the fleet.  Why limit yourself so?" the old man muttered, startling Haref from her revere.  He stood in the doorway, gnarled hands resting on lacquered door frame.  As he had recently come from the boiler room, his white bound knee-high leg warmers were now black, but his hands and face were freshly washed.
"Grandpa, I'm developing options for myself, not limiting myself.  How else can I claim my full right to citizenship and a voice on the council but through marriage?"
"That is a foolish law.  Myr would never have approved." the old man grumbled, knowing full well his granddaughter would dismiss him.
"Yes, grandpa, but we don't live in a fairy tale world.  This is reality.  It makes sense, really." she rationalized to herself,  "What good is it to listen to someone whose line will end with them?  You need to show that you are not just one individual, but that you are looking out for the future of our fleet as a whole." the girl huffed.  Much as she cherished the memories she had with the old man and his bedtime stories, she was a woman now.  She really wished he would treat her as such.
The old man walked around the cramped wooden room to the porthole and starred into the twilight sky.  The seas were calm but the sky was ominous.  Such is life upon the open waters.
"Have you ever wondered, dear, why I have no voice on the council, though I have a hand in the future, through you?" he asked softly.
"You told me you don't like the council.  That you don't play well in groups where you aren't in charge." she said.
"Heh," he grunted, "Yes I suppose that is true too.  But I could never join the council, even if I wanted to."  He lifted his hands and with his fore finger, absentmindedly began to trace the outlines of the brass bolts that held the porthole in place.  "This ship," he whispered wistfully, "may be mine to command until you come of age and marry, but she was never mine, and I was never hers.  I may be your grandfather, but neither your mother nor your father was my child."
Haref turned her attentions to a deep sea blue pendant, seemingly unaffected by the news.  She merely nodded.
"You knew?" the old man asked, incredulously.
"Not for sure, but I think I did." she said.  "There aren't any shadow slides of you and my parents together, or of you and me any time before I turned 2."
"The year your parents were lost."
She turned around and looked the old man in his hazel eyes.  "Yes.  So tell me then, who are you, and why are you here?," she asked, adding a repentant, if sweet smile, "Grandpa?"
It worked, of course, and the old man smiled back.  Neither of them doubted that it would.  "I was escaping the mainland when I came across your parents.  I was scavenging but the wolf presence became too great.  I had to take flight as the first of the hurricane hit land.
"I was one of the lucky ones.  By the time I reached my dingy, I was in the eye of the storm.  The winds and waves were relatively calm.  That was when I came across your parents' fishing dingy; or rather, what was left of it.
"Your parents were not the only ones to pass that day, and I had to navigate through wood debris and bodies.  Your father was long dead, likely one of the first.  I never saw him, but the seas were harsh and likely swallowed him whole in one gulp.
"But your mother clung on to some of the wreckage, along with 2 other survivors.  Two young boys, ship-hands I suspect, were knocked out cold and were afloat on debris thanks only to the good will of your mother.  I didn't have a lot of room in my dingy; why would I have brought out a big ship?  It was just supposed to be a simple day with a simple catch.  I lived on my own back then, and I've never really needed much to survive.
"So it was either your mother of both of the boys.  I offered to let her take my place, but she refused. I swore at her, saying I could swim along side the boat.  I asked her if she wanted to abandon her friends and family in the fleet.  That was when she told me about you.  'Protect my daughter' were her final words that day, but she needn't have said a thing.  It was becoming clear to me that the spirits had guided me for this very purpose.
"But still I tried, I implored she climb into safety.  Surely all four of us could make it.
"All she could do was respond to me with a moan.  It was the first time I noticed the faint hint of red in the water around her.  Slowly, with great effort, she brought her hand down to her stomach.  She had been near impaled by a splintered part of the mast.
"Could she have been saved?  I don't know, but I knew there I couldn't move her without fatally dooming her.  We needed stronger men and better doctors than one old man and two unconscious boys.
"She gave me your family crest before I sailed off, rushing to beat the rest of the storm to the fleet.  It was the same crest I will give to you on your wedding day.  She made me promise to care for you and I was not about to refuse a dying woman's request.  I told her that I would send for help to return as soon as I could, but I think she knew she was out of time.  We made it to the fleet just as the eye of the storm passed, and by the time I could venture out again, there was no sign of the sloop or your mother.  I'm sorry."
Haref considered what she heard.  Nothing contradicted anything she had read, but he certainly filled in a lot of gaps to her family history research.  "The boys, I am guessing they were the twins Joraf and Jepsah.  That would explain why they always seem to just happen to be in this part of the fleet when they have a huge over catch or when we have a leak or boiler malfunction."
"Yes.  When those two boys returned home, their parents had already begun burning the incense and singing songs to the spirits.  They thought us ghosts.  They thought me a spirit myself!  But when they saw my flesh and blood, their prostrations stopped, and their gratitude began to flow unceasingly.
"As an old man, there are too many things I could not do for you.  I had never been a ship master.  When I told them of your parents, and how I saw it as my duty to raise you to become the fine young woman you are today, they insisted they help.  If I saved their sons once, that family has saved us a hundred times over.
"Why are you telling me this now?" Haref asked.
"Because this is your ship, and soon you will have that crest.  And you will know why there is so much hope and promise in you, and why I want to make sure that it is not squandered.  Please, do not be hasty.  Choose a man that will be a true first officer.  Take a man to husband that will help you to go far, not one who merely wants a cushy life.  Choose a man who won't let you down, and who will not let you let yourself down either.  Only a man such as that is truly worthy of you."
 “Thank you grandfather.” Haref nodded calmly, “You’ve given me a lot to think about.  I will consider it.”
The old man signed and took a step back, closing the door ever so gently.  Always so clinical, his Haref was.  He knew what her words really meant.  She would think on it, but her mind was already made up.  She might change the details, but her goal was still first to become Matron of the ship, in whatever way was the fastest, and take the burden of sailing off of himself - whether she was prepared for it or not.  Intelligence breeds confidence and confidence breeds more confidence; his granddaughter was a prime example of that.  She was sure she had already taken into account all the most important factors in her decision to marry.  What an old man had to say was for the details only.
As he was only the acting ship master, the decision would ultimately come from the council elders.  She might come to him for a symbolic blessing, and at her wedding, he would symbolically pass her family crest down, but he was expendable in the process.
"So much promise," he muttered, "I had such hopes for you."  Turning down the hall he amended, "I still do."
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Lentz of the Wolf - Relationships

Four blue-black towels draped over four glistening bodies cast shadows against the slick walls from the window of the charcoal stove in the center of the room.  Above the stove of steel hot pumice stones glowed, waiting to be doused again by a serving of water from a nearby pail. Thez Turak, ship master and father of Fitzar, obliged his wife, son and guest every now and again by pouring the tepid water on the rocks whereby it sizzled into the steam of the sauna.

Jukla Turak, his wife, sat comfortably with her town around her waist, and eyes closed, but mind awake and active.  “So tell me Haref, what interests you about our young Fitzar?  You must know we are training our eldest to one day take over our sloop.  Kelra beat out her twin by mere minutes.  Ironic, considering how motivated Lurel is.  So you know, there will be no room more a new wife here." 

"Yes, Lurel was a classmate of mine last year.  A beautiful young woman if I may say, and smart. 

"We spoke briefly about our future plans at the end of schooling.  As I am sure you know, her ambitions are quite impressive indeed.  A fleet admiral?  Land colonies?  That will be a tough dream, but if anyone can do it, she can."

"Yes, Lurel has quite the future for herself." Jukla laughed opening her eyes just as her husband found his way back to his seat.  "You know she too is nearing the end of courtship.  We've secured a contract with the first son of the Bohut, Heztre.  He visited us just as you are now only a fortnight ago.  Of course you know of the Bohuts..."

"Mother!" Fitzar protested, "We are not here for Lurel."  The young man clenched his fits nervously.  He, like his parents and his suitor, sat with nothing but a towel around his waist, but he might as well have been naked.  The blonde youth sat against the oak sauna walls with the grace of a wooden plank, nervous as he was with this meeting.

"Easy Fitzar," Jukla retorted, "She might as well get to know her prospective in-laws if a solid contract is to be struck."

"I am not familiar with the family.  The outer fleet does not get much time to interact with great families." Haref admitted, sheepishly "Please go on."

Jukla offered the young woman an skeptical, barely derisive glare, but after a moment of thought to herself, she continued, "It is a very old tale, but surely familiar enough to you.  Do you remember being told of the story of Myr and her travels to the world beyond?"

Haref suppressed a smile she only ever intended for her grandfather, "Yes, of course."

"Legend says that she named her first boat the Kalmut.  A bold statement when she left the docks on that mythical day.  'The first among the living'"

"Ah," Haref quickly realized, "'The last among the spirits'.  Bohut means 'the last among the spirits'"

Thez, Fitzar's father smiled in approval, "You know Classical Waak well."

"They say, when she returned, she left the Kalmut in the world beyond, and came home with the first steam powered vessel known to the Wak.  That, she called the Bohut.  But there is an alternate translation of the word."
"Last among the stars." Haref quickly amended and was rewarded with a patronizing smile.
 "Now, make no mistake," warned Jukla, "any ship from those days surely is long gone.  But the family would have passed down that name to each successive boat they built."

"So it is possible that Lurel's suitor is related to such a woman of myth and legend?  That is quite impressive."

"Oh dear," Jukla laughed again, loud and openly, "  I'm sure all of us have a drop of the blood of Myr somewhere.  He's not merely related, he is the sole heir of Myr and her works!"
"If the myths are even true, mother." Fitzar growled in a low voice, eager to be done with the topic.

"Well," Haref reclaimed the conversation after moments of silence that she hoped were interpreted as deference, "My ambitions are not so astronomical, admittedly.  As you may know, I am heir of my own vessel, the Veshja, the 'Myopic Traveler', and I search for a solid and successful life.  I am the only child, last of my line, and I want to be sure that as the world turns, that line will live on."
"So you wish children?" Thez chimed in with a deep but pensive voice.

"Yes.  As soon as possible.  And a father that will help me to raise them to be proud Wak."

Nobody said anything for several seconds, but Fitzar blushed a radish red against the orange glow of the stove.  Hoping to break the tension, Haref continued, "Lurel told me of Fitzar.  She mentioned that we might have a great deal in common, and that our goals are the same.  She suggested we might be a good match."

"A good match for a woman of the outer fleet?  My boy is hardly the laborer.  Look at him." Thez muttered derisively, but he was promptly ignored by both his wife and his guest.  His son, however, cast his gaze downward in embarrassment.

"Fitzar, go ahead and say something," his mother prodded.

The boy collected himself and straightened his back. "I am Fitzar, third son of the ship Turak." he recited as if he had practiced it all afternoon.  "I have little to offer but my intelligence, strength, bravery and capability."

"Yes dear, all that.  But speak plainly." his mother nagged, irritated.  "Leave the ceremony for the wedding."

"I seek to be a helpmeet for the Matron of a ship, to be her first mate, to help her on her voyage as it too becomes my voyage.  I wish to be father to her children, to love them, to guide them and protect them, I..." Fitzar paused, clearly having forgotten his next line.  Instead, he turned sheepishly to the half naked Haref.  "Um... " he tried to find words in frankness, but his mind failed him and his practiced speech offered no back-up.   "That's all."

Haref smiled.  She got up from her oak wood seat in the sauna and bowed her head before youth she courted.  "Fitzar of the vessel Turak, I beg your permission to speak alone with your parents." she said with ritual perfection.  

The youth nodded and fumbled trying to stand up.  He lost his towel in the process and blushed hot with embarrassment before his mother collected him and escorted him out of the sauna.  It was several minutes before she returned.

"Lurel may have been a little liberal on her brother's behalf." Thez spoke quietly, "Ambitions of progeny aside, I see very little in common between yourself and my son."

"Thank you for your concern father," she mentally winced, hoping he took that as confidence and surety, rather than arrogance.  "But love, duty, family, can grow out of differences.  I'm sure that your son and myself will be able to find the path to a successful ship.  We will make you proud."

"My son is a good boy, but he will provide no leadership."

"I will provide it."

"He will provide no cleverness."

"I shall be clever enough for the both of us."

"He may tie you down."

"I will carry us both."

Thez sighed.  "It sounds like you and his mother are already convinced then.  What can a man say?  I'm just Master of my ship."

"I will make you proud, I promise." Haref asserted just as the sauna door swung open again. 
"That was never my concern." he interjected one last time.

"Come, come," beckoned Jukla before her husband and her son's suitor. "I've had the helm assistant begin drawing up the documents.  Let's talk over coffee and biscuits."

"Jukla, my dear, aren't you rushing things?" Thez bemoaned but Haref was already standing before the both of them, in a full bow.

"Master Thez Turak and his first mate Jukla, I beg to give your son the name and ship of Veshja, to make him my first mate and to forever sail under the fleet with him by my side, so long as we are on this side of the world."

Before her husband could speak Jukla interjected with a sultry smile, "Agreed.  Please accept our son into your crew, and care for him as you would your own.  Come now child, let us draw up those documents."

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The helm's clock chimed five times and still there had been no word from the young woman who once begged for a bedtime story.  Lentz sighed while he looked onto the faded horizon of dimly lit eastern stars.  His bones were tired and old in this world when his life was never intended to know such pain.  He didn't know how much longer he could stay, yet he feared what might happen to his adopted granddaughter if he were to leave.

As he sat in his reclining chair, he felt the creases of the leather under his fingertips and snarled.  He had never met the boy Fitzar, but he already knew he wasn't good enough for her.  Nobody was good enough for his beautiful, intelligent Haref.  

Chapter 10 -Part IX

Roh'ath appraised the Nü a second time, and scanned her from head to toe.  Onion could feel his eyes crawling over her bronze skin, her dark hair, the Yibouhese style collared tunic of yellow and peach cream.

I advise neither, Pnum Rduap.  I have two minds of this one; either she is too ignorant of mind to be taught, or too weak of heart to be loyal.  Kill her and be done with the Nü.  Walk her out the door and stab her in the back in the garden.  Blood is the best nutrient for the flowers.  Maybe in three hundred tides we will speak with them as cousins, but for now, they are insects. 

"No!" Vren screamed and all three figures turned to her immediately in surprise.  She stared right at the Silent Scholar and verbally implored,  "I am not stupid; I can learn.  I am learning!  I am not weak.  I fight for my brothers.  If not brothers of the flesh, I will fight for my brothers of the spirit.  And I am no insect.  I am a spider."

The three of them looked at the Nü dumbstruck, but the Silent Scholar cracked a sinister smile with its thin lips well before the two men had time to register what had just occurred.

Good!  Very good!  You are interesting then aren't you.  You've been listening the whole time haven't you?  You nasty little weasel.  You cautious little squirrel.  How did you do it?  Did you have to try or are you like I?  Do you hear every thought, every feeling of those you walk by?  Did you have to give away your soul too?

Onion eyed the shriveled being next to her and wondered if it hadn't been planning this the whole time.  Had it known she could hear their every word as they communicated to each other through their minds?  Had they realized that every thought shook the strands of her spider's web, as if being plucked by a guitarist?  Was this talk of lethal ultimatums nothing more than a game to lure her out of the safety of her mental walls?

She glanced at Cedric, wondering his role in this as well.  He had hardly proven himself to her, and now what little trust he managed to earn was quickly dissolving into a fog of suspicion.  All three of them stared at her silently waiting for her to say something, or think something, but there was naught but silence on both the audio and mental planes.

The Silent Scholar was the first to realize that Onion had managed to halt its intrusive mind.  Her thoughts were hers alone. You will lose that ability, girl, if you become bei'thal. The mind of the Silent Scholar took on a serious focus in sharp contrast to the normal ramblings of its mind as.  Your mind will be open to mine, and you will not be able to hide away those little tidbits of your thoughts.  I will tear your walls down in order to build them up bigger and better than before, but you will open to me when I demand it.  But with its very next thought it returned to its academic mirth and its cloudy hazel eyes beamed.  This will be so very enjoyable, and I don't think I am alone in saying that.  Let's learn how you work.

"No.  I won't let you."

"Pnum'beithal, as I told you.   There will be nothing but trouble with this one." Roh'ath roared.

"But I will serve you, as I once served my brothers.  You will have my talents, my web.  You need me." Onion was not sure if she was convincing enough.  However, now that she had been found out, now that she felt the futile buzzing of the Silent Scholar's probing mind uselessly struggle against the power of her web, she felt more confident than she had since her arrival two tides ago.  "You know you are curious."

Onion felt a chill down her spine as under the cloth of its cloak and hood she could feel its leathery face smile.  Spider protect against the day she'd have to see that face in person.  You will loose that ability.  Even the bei'thal must make sacrifices, and your mind will be open.  But you are right.  I am curious.  It turned to the Empress's son, By your mother's leave, I will see to her basic training myself.  And then back to the uncomfortable man on the other side of Onion, Cedric will assist me.  We shall have a fun time with this, the three of us.  Shalln't we?

On Life, Death and Chickens, Part III

This post follows: http://strawbeaner.blogspot.com/2012/11/on-life-death-and-chickens-part-ii.html

Today was a sad day.

Our golden colored Ameraucana, also titled "the ugly one" was culled.

Unlike the rooster we slaughtered last year, this was not something we had desired.  Indeed, due to the fact that she laid spectacular olive green eggs very regularly, and added a color to the flock that was quite unique, she was one of two we have never had any intention whatsoever of slaughtering, and had the specific intention of retaining.

The ugly one got this titled since as a chick, she looked like a drunken version of Martin Van Buren in chicken form.  Her shaggy bearded coloring was in stark contrast to "the pretty one", also an Ameraucana, whose coloring was neat, well patterned, and very attractive.  As the both of them reached adulthood, they both became pretty in their own way but the title stuck.

Unfortunately, while the ugly one was relatively smart (for a chicken) and pretty flighty and strong, somehow she ended up dead last in the hen pecking order, and was second only to our juvenile rooster prior to him experiencing his first crowing.  Once that happened, she became dead last, and very quickly, very first in terms of preferred mating partner of the rooster.

For the record, mating is not very pleasant for the hen.  The rooster climbs on her back, often bites at her neck to hold her down, and forces her butt up, and her vagina to poke out of her cloaca.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8KBGEjVF-bM

As she was bottom rung, the ugly one was the go-to girl when all other hens were successfully avoiding him.  The books suggest having 7 hens for one rooster, so that the hens get a break every now and again.  However, of our 7 hens, 2.5 of them (the two plymouth bard rocks and for a time, the black austrolorp) actually are or were of a higher pecking order than the rooster.  This means effectively, at first he had only 4 hens, with that changing to 5 hens in only the last month or so.  He mated with her incessantly.  It got so bad she was losing feathers from behind.  Kyle picked up a chicken apron for her, which we thought was an end to the problem.  It did save her back from further de-feathering, but I suspect, only delayed future problems.

A couple of weeks ago, I suddenly noticed a bulbous red glob on the back end of the ugly one.  I took no pictures of our particular chicken, but a good website to explain the situation is here: http://www.the-chicken-chick.com/2012/04/prolapse-vent-causes-treatment-graphic.html



To explain what exactly this means, I will write the following paragraph in white.  Read if you have a strong stomach or can't comprehend any female anatomy anyway. 

Chickens have only one exit hole, a cloaca, also known as a vent.  Essentially, this exit hole is used by both an internal anus and vagina (or testes if a rooster).  When each one is used, it pops out through the cloaca slightly.  Thus you are not getting poop smears on eggs or calcium deposits on poop. 

The prolapsed vent meant that the vagina would not collapse after use, back into the body cavity.  It was sticking out and had to be manually pushed back in.  When this first happened, I managed to keep her in the garage, in a box to encourage her body to stop producing eggs, and give her time to heal.  This actually seemed to work, and after some lovely intimate sessions with the poor hen, we got it to the point where it wasn't protruding any longer.  Believing this problem to have occurred by excessive mating, we then separated the rooster from the rest of the flock.  All seemed well.


Unfortunately, a few days later it was sticking back out again.  I suspect this was because she had not actually fully healed at this point.  Before Kyle or I had noticed it, other hens of the flock began to pick at her exposed inverted vagina until it bled.  By the time we had separated her from the flock, it was in bad shape.  Still we tried, getting her some preparation H, and anti-biotics.  It was for naught as it did become infected.  The bleeding in addition to the poop coming out the same hole, naturally will not help the healing process.

To visualize, ladies, imagine that in giving birth, you exerted yourself so hard that your vagina inverted and stuck out from the orifice.  Now, your fellow lady friends notice this, but as you guys are unsympathetic chicken-personalities, they take out sharp pointy sticks and jab them at your wound.  You look weak.  They don't want to deal with anyone who is weak.  Finally, for some unexplainable reason, this causes you to be unable to defecate without doing so in your vagina.  This was our poor chicken, the ugly one.
Last night, it got so bad Kyle and I spent about an hour trying to help her finish laying an egg that couldn't pass as a result of dried puss and scab on the edges of the wound.  The poor girl was really in pain as we soaked her in a hot bath and tried to ease up the scabbing.  At that point, we realized she  had crossed a line.  We weren't going to save her.  She was looking healthy besides the wound, but soon the infection would set in, and she was going to die.



So Kyle and I made the decision to cull her, which is a nice way of saying slaughter, but for reasons of health or flock cohesion, rather than for the purpose of meat generation.  You can still get meat out of the process, but it isn't the goal.

She really was quite alert and in a good mood, even considering the pain of egg laying she had the prior night, and the fact that we had confined her and was withholding food to make the killing easier.  That perhaps made it even harder.  On the one hand, if we had waited until she reality of her condition finally took hold of her outward behavior, the meat would have been contaminated, and there would be no silver lining of use in the slaughter.  On the other side, laying troubles aside, she was as cognizant and energetic as ever.  Chickens start getting droopy and lethargic when they feel sick - the ugly one was none of that.

So that was sad.

Again, Kyle did the slaughter, I the evisceration.  I have a good excuse for this - Kyle lacks the fine motor skills needed to evisceration without popping poop everywhere, but I am not sure I'd be able to do it anyway.  I was tearing up, quite significantly, when I saw the limp carcass of the ugly one from the distance.  As Kyle noted, it is much more difficult to slaughter her, rather than the rooster we had a month, or the two cockerels we will be slaughtering in two months, because we had her over a year.  She was a familiar sight on the yard and as distinct a personality as chickens can be (they aren't terribly distinct, but their vocal sounds are).  And as she was on the bottom of the pecking order, you can't help but feel a little sad for her.  She didn't pick on others too much; she was the one picked on the most.  Her olive green eggs will definitely be missed.  They were delicious as well as pretty.

So now we have 5 laying hens, plus another hen currently brooding chicks, meaning she isn't laying.  A huge point of flock diversity is gone.

However, two of her eggs were a part of the batch of most recently hatched chicks.  We don't know their sex at this point.  We won't know for another few weeks.  However I believe we will replace her with one of them if at least one of them is a pullet (juvenile hen).  If they are both cockerels, Kyle is thinking it is time that sexually ambitious rooster find himself next on the list on who is to become delicious.

Can either of these guys fill their biological mother's shoes?

So what's the lesson to be learned from this?  Certainly neither of us want to have to slaughter those chickens who have been a part of our yard for an extended period of time.  Luckily, older chickens don't make for great meat anyway.  Slaughtering an animal that we expected to keep around with us also once again begs the question, should we be doing this?  Kyle believes that if we can't slaughter our chickens, that is, older chickens, maybe we shouldn't have chickens at all.  I disagree.  I believe the lesson isn't, "we shouldn't have chickens" but rather, "we shouldn't eat chickens".  One requires the death of a chicken.  The other does not.

I do not think my chickens are somehow more deserving of life than those chickens of factory farms, even those that are cage free and get to see a bug once in awhile in their live times.  I stick to the idea that it is still better for even the ugly one, that she was able to enjoy a chickeny life in our backyard and met a relatively painless end after all other options had been exhausted.  If that is not enough, than nothing is enough.  There is no justification in taking the life of any chicken.

Kyle and I have also agreed that barring a similar mortal wound, there is no way either of us could kill the most curious and intelligent of all the chickens: Penguin.