A Cliff-top Duel
IV
Lessons of Strength
(Shard V)
(Shard V)
The cauldron’s lid popped up and she was able to gingerly slide it to the side of the wide-brimmed metal edge. She balanced it carefully by flexing out the toe of her boot to hold it in place. Once satisfied that it would not fall, she snatched the ladle from her mouth and dipped it into the warm milk below. With her other hand, she lifted the first of the bottles from the vice-like grip of her thighs and proceeded to pour the milk into it.
She did this several more times until she was on the last ladle-full of milk that she needed for the third bottle. Once each was filled she pulled one of the fake nipples from her pocket to secure the top of the bottle. This was now the last one and she could finally be done with this place. She began to pour the last few bits into the third bottle when she felt a rustling and heard a mewling coming from her chest.
Ghelta didn't know if it was the smell of the warm milk or the feeling of warm steam coming up to rile up the pup. She thought that wolf pups were blind, deaf, and unable to smell, but something had caused it to stir. It had come to life in a writhing and noisy form between her bosoms causing her to drop the ladle in a panic.
The only solution that came to mind was for her to shove her thumb into the pup’s mewling mouth and lower her head to lightly bite the hackles behind the pup’s head. Milk dribbled over her lips and onto the pup’s head as it went quiet and stopped moving. She had seen mother wolves do this to stop fussing pups several times in the kennels. The success came at a cost, as Ghelta felt the contents of the third bottle spill down her leg.
She kept her precarious perch for a few moments as her eyes focused back on the broden-mother laying upon her bed. The noise had caused her to stir and stop snoring. The heaving set of breasts jiggled once and then contorted as a small woman’s head lifted up from the pillows. Her aged and weather-worn face looked more like leather than skin after all these years. Her eyes remained shut and her toothless mouth began shifting about in her face.
“Jhulmin, go to sleep!” The woman turned her head and lifted a flabby arm to bang on the far wall of the hut. “Don’t you wake me up, again, you prick!”
Ghelta remained frozen as the rest of the bottle’s contents dripped down her leg. She could feel one of the sealed bottles shift between her thighs, but she clenched all the more to keep it secure. She found herself silently praying to whatever god might be listening that she could get out of this situation without getting caught. She closed her eyes for a moment and took in a sharp breath through her nose.
“Oh shove it up your arse, you old bat!” The gruff and low voice of the Skaell-father erupted from the other side of the stucco wall. A bang came from that wall that sent one of the teetering books on the broden-mother’s desk crashing to the floor.
“I’ll suffocate you with my arse-” The broden-mother began cursing beneath her breath as she began to punch at one of her pillows with her hand and lay back down on her bed. She rolled over, causing the bed to groan as her bosoms flapped upon one another. The hefty woman finally settled into her new position.
The moments stretched on and Ghelta felt like she was ready to give up, but then the broden-mother’s snoring started up once more. She could feel her shoulders slump with relief. She let go of the pup’s hackles and kissed its milk-coated head. With a few shifts of her weight, she was able to get control over her situation on the window-sill.
She managed to finish up quickly and store the newly filled bottles back beneath her shirt. Afterward, it was easy enough to set the lid back upon the cauldron and place the ladle back upon it’s rung. She shifted herself from the sill and fell back onto the dusty rock outside the hut.
She didn’t know how she managed to pull off the theft and not get caught. In her head, she thanked whatever god had given her the strength to get through this ordeal. She made her way cautiously out of the brodenskappf yard and with a quick jump over a wooden fence she was free at last.
“You are one demanding little sod, aren’t you.” Ghelta whispered to the pup as she made her way back to the kennels. “You almost got me caught. Don’t do that again.” She rubbed the milk from the pup’s fur with an edge of the towel bundle. She could feel the heft of the filled bottles around the pup and a sense of satisfaction made its way through her like warmth on a cold night.
As she could see the shadow of the kennels come into view, sorrow began to gnaw away at the warmth she felt. Back there were the bodies of Skartha and her stillborn children. She was glad that one life was spared on this evening, but she still had to ensure that those who were lost could find some sort of peace.
One of the most important tenets of the Alsiran people was that those who died must give back to their community. Whether it was fellow tribes-people or animals, all bodies must be used to their fullest before they were set to rest. In a place like the Jolash Plateau, where the ground was made of rock and sand, it was hard to find places to bury the dead. What could be harvested was, and then the remains were burned in funeral pyres so that their spirits could ascend up to the lands of the gods.
Many families would keep the skulls of their fallen family members in their homes. Proud lineages would keep the skulls on display in a ceremony room next to the living area. Other members of the tribe thought of that custom as morbid and simply burned their family members while casting their ashes to the wind. No matter the way they honored the dead, each body must be treated and harvested with care.
She would honor Skartha and her pups in the same fashion once she got back to the kennels. She would need to harvest Skartha’s body for what she could use, such as furs, bone marrow, and a few of her ribs. She would boil her skull and place it in the ceremony chamber of the kennel along with Skartha’s mother and Ylethus’ old wolf. The pups would remain intact and have their bodies sent to whatever realm the wolves went to when they died.
Ghelta looked down once more at the pup strapped to her chest. This one would be hers and she would raise it proudly. She understood what it was like to lose her mother and be abandoned as an orphan. She would not let Olthenna take this little wolf away from her. If she had to steal milk every night, she would do so. She would chew the pup’s food once it got old enough, and she would teach it to hunt like a mother wolf would.
She felt tears well up in her eyes once more as she kissed the top of the pup’s head again. She felt the pup shift in the towel and she lifted a corner of the cloth to cover the pup’s face. She knew the little creature was blind, but as a token action, she didn’t want it to see what must be done to set its mother and siblings to rest.
* * *
“Well, what kept you up all night?” Ylethus turned from the stew pot he had simmering over the hearth to see Ghelta as she entered the house with a slammed door behind her. He looked her over and smiled. “You look like shit.”
Ghelta tromped into the dining area of the house and set a dripping bag onto one of the chairs. She gave Ylethus a sideways glance as she pressed past him to grab a pitcher of water. She drank from it and walked over to a small basin near the kitchen and began to pour the water over her arms and hands. She began rubbing her hands together to get rid of some of the caked blood and ashes.
“I put Skartha and her pups to rest.” She looked up for a moment to see Ylethus lift a spoon from the stew to his lips. He gave a nod of approval and then turned to look at Ghelta. He pointed to the stew and Ghelta nodded back.
“I assumed as much, but what is that you have stuck between your tits?” He raised one of his bushy eyebrows and pointed the spoon towards Ghelta. “Also, every time you move around I hear the jingling of glass. What did you steal?”
Ghelta finished up with the water and poured it down a nearby drainage hole. She walked over to Ylethus and lifted the bundle from her chest with her left hand. She leaned over the table and unstrapped the belt around her midsection with her right hand. Once loosened, the three bottles fell into a heap on the table.
“This is the only surviving pup from Skartha’s litter.” Once the bottles fell to a rest, Ghelta let the belt fall to the floor. She used both hands to hold the pup towards Ylethus. The corner of the towel fell away and a little pup nuzzled upwards.
“Well, I’ll be damned to Gehemol…” Ylethus let his words trail off as he leaned in to survey the little animal. “I thought they were all stillborn.” He furrowed the features of his face as he placed the spoon back in the stew. “You didn't do anything strange, did you?”
“Strange, like what?” Ghelta was honestly puzzled and pulled the little pup back from Ylethus. She shook her head and kept staring at Ylethus from different angles, trying to understand what he was saying.
“That dark magick shit I have to keep telling you not to use. I don’t know how many times I've had to get Toulam to purge that stuff from your mind and body.” He narrowed his eyes and lifted the towel to look at the pup. “I don’t need you raising the dead or some-such unholiness.”
Ghelta pulled the pup back and looked angrily back at Ylethus. She let her bottom teeth jut out and scrape along her top lip. He had hit a nerve with her.
“I didn't raise it from the dead, okay?” Ghelta rolled her eyes and set the pup lightly on the table. She tugged at the corners of the bundle to make sure the pup was secure. “This one was left inside of Skartha when the rest came out. I only found it when it had the strength to howl at me.”
Ylethus took a step from the stew pot and lifted his sleeves up. He looked at the bundle and then lifted up the pup. “So, what are you going to do now?” He prodded at the cloth with one of his meaty fingers and saw the little wolf nuzzle at him. His features immediately softened.
“I’m going to raise it as my own.” Ghelta beamed proudly as she began to lift up and set down each of the bottles on the table. “I've stolen some milk to feed it.”
“Stolen from where, exactly?” Ylethus lifted his massive and bearded head to look at Ghelta. His eyes narrowed once more and he began to whistle from his nose as he took in sharp breaths.
She did this several more times until she was on the last ladle-full of milk that she needed for the third bottle. Once each was filled she pulled one of the fake nipples from her pocket to secure the top of the bottle. This was now the last one and she could finally be done with this place. She began to pour the last few bits into the third bottle when she felt a rustling and heard a mewling coming from her chest.
Ghelta didn't know if it was the smell of the warm milk or the feeling of warm steam coming up to rile up the pup. She thought that wolf pups were blind, deaf, and unable to smell, but something had caused it to stir. It had come to life in a writhing and noisy form between her bosoms causing her to drop the ladle in a panic.
The only solution that came to mind was for her to shove her thumb into the pup’s mewling mouth and lower her head to lightly bite the hackles behind the pup’s head. Milk dribbled over her lips and onto the pup’s head as it went quiet and stopped moving. She had seen mother wolves do this to stop fussing pups several times in the kennels. The success came at a cost, as Ghelta felt the contents of the third bottle spill down her leg.
She kept her precarious perch for a few moments as her eyes focused back on the broden-mother laying upon her bed. The noise had caused her to stir and stop snoring. The heaving set of breasts jiggled once and then contorted as a small woman’s head lifted up from the pillows. Her aged and weather-worn face looked more like leather than skin after all these years. Her eyes remained shut and her toothless mouth began shifting about in her face.
“Jhulmin, go to sleep!” The woman turned her head and lifted a flabby arm to bang on the far wall of the hut. “Don’t you wake me up, again, you prick!”
Ghelta remained frozen as the rest of the bottle’s contents dripped down her leg. She could feel one of the sealed bottles shift between her thighs, but she clenched all the more to keep it secure. She found herself silently praying to whatever god might be listening that she could get out of this situation without getting caught. She closed her eyes for a moment and took in a sharp breath through her nose.
“Oh shove it up your arse, you old bat!” The gruff and low voice of the Skaell-father erupted from the other side of the stucco wall. A bang came from that wall that sent one of the teetering books on the broden-mother’s desk crashing to the floor.
“I’ll suffocate you with my arse-” The broden-mother began cursing beneath her breath as she began to punch at one of her pillows with her hand and lay back down on her bed. She rolled over, causing the bed to groan as her bosoms flapped upon one another. The hefty woman finally settled into her new position.
The moments stretched on and Ghelta felt like she was ready to give up, but then the broden-mother’s snoring started up once more. She could feel her shoulders slump with relief. She let go of the pup’s hackles and kissed its milk-coated head. With a few shifts of her weight, she was able to get control over her situation on the window-sill.
She managed to finish up quickly and store the newly filled bottles back beneath her shirt. Afterward, it was easy enough to set the lid back upon the cauldron and place the ladle back upon it’s rung. She shifted herself from the sill and fell back onto the dusty rock outside the hut.
She didn’t know how she managed to pull off the theft and not get caught. In her head, she thanked whatever god had given her the strength to get through this ordeal. She made her way cautiously out of the brodenskappf yard and with a quick jump over a wooden fence she was free at last.
“You are one demanding little sod, aren’t you.” Ghelta whispered to the pup as she made her way back to the kennels. “You almost got me caught. Don’t do that again.” She rubbed the milk from the pup’s fur with an edge of the towel bundle. She could feel the heft of the filled bottles around the pup and a sense of satisfaction made its way through her like warmth on a cold night.
As she could see the shadow of the kennels come into view, sorrow began to gnaw away at the warmth she felt. Back there were the bodies of Skartha and her stillborn children. She was glad that one life was spared on this evening, but she still had to ensure that those who were lost could find some sort of peace.
One of the most important tenets of the Alsiran people was that those who died must give back to their community. Whether it was fellow tribes-people or animals, all bodies must be used to their fullest before they were set to rest. In a place like the Jolash Plateau, where the ground was made of rock and sand, it was hard to find places to bury the dead. What could be harvested was, and then the remains were burned in funeral pyres so that their spirits could ascend up to the lands of the gods.
Many families would keep the skulls of their fallen family members in their homes. Proud lineages would keep the skulls on display in a ceremony room next to the living area. Other members of the tribe thought of that custom as morbid and simply burned their family members while casting their ashes to the wind. No matter the way they honored the dead, each body must be treated and harvested with care.
She would honor Skartha and her pups in the same fashion once she got back to the kennels. She would need to harvest Skartha’s body for what she could use, such as furs, bone marrow, and a few of her ribs. She would boil her skull and place it in the ceremony chamber of the kennel along with Skartha’s mother and Ylethus’ old wolf. The pups would remain intact and have their bodies sent to whatever realm the wolves went to when they died.
Ghelta looked down once more at the pup strapped to her chest. This one would be hers and she would raise it proudly. She understood what it was like to lose her mother and be abandoned as an orphan. She would not let Olthenna take this little wolf away from her. If she had to steal milk every night, she would do so. She would chew the pup’s food once it got old enough, and she would teach it to hunt like a mother wolf would.
She felt tears well up in her eyes once more as she kissed the top of the pup’s head again. She felt the pup shift in the towel and she lifted a corner of the cloth to cover the pup’s face. She knew the little creature was blind, but as a token action, she didn’t want it to see what must be done to set its mother and siblings to rest.
* * *
“Well, what kept you up all night?” Ylethus turned from the stew pot he had simmering over the hearth to see Ghelta as she entered the house with a slammed door behind her. He looked her over and smiled. “You look like shit.”
Ghelta tromped into the dining area of the house and set a dripping bag onto one of the chairs. She gave Ylethus a sideways glance as she pressed past him to grab a pitcher of water. She drank from it and walked over to a small basin near the kitchen and began to pour the water over her arms and hands. She began rubbing her hands together to get rid of some of the caked blood and ashes.
“I put Skartha and her pups to rest.” She looked up for a moment to see Ylethus lift a spoon from the stew to his lips. He gave a nod of approval and then turned to look at Ghelta. He pointed to the stew and Ghelta nodded back.
“I assumed as much, but what is that you have stuck between your tits?” He raised one of his bushy eyebrows and pointed the spoon towards Ghelta. “Also, every time you move around I hear the jingling of glass. What did you steal?”
Ghelta finished up with the water and poured it down a nearby drainage hole. She walked over to Ylethus and lifted the bundle from her chest with her left hand. She leaned over the table and unstrapped the belt around her midsection with her right hand. Once loosened, the three bottles fell into a heap on the table.
“This is the only surviving pup from Skartha’s litter.” Once the bottles fell to a rest, Ghelta let the belt fall to the floor. She used both hands to hold the pup towards Ylethus. The corner of the towel fell away and a little pup nuzzled upwards.
“Well, I’ll be damned to Gehemol…” Ylethus let his words trail off as he leaned in to survey the little animal. “I thought they were all stillborn.” He furrowed the features of his face as he placed the spoon back in the stew. “You didn't do anything strange, did you?”
“Strange, like what?” Ghelta was honestly puzzled and pulled the little pup back from Ylethus. She shook her head and kept staring at Ylethus from different angles, trying to understand what he was saying.
“That dark magick shit I have to keep telling you not to use. I don’t know how many times I've had to get Toulam to purge that stuff from your mind and body.” He narrowed his eyes and lifted the towel to look at the pup. “I don’t need you raising the dead or some-such unholiness.”
Ghelta pulled the pup back and looked angrily back at Ylethus. She let her bottom teeth jut out and scrape along her top lip. He had hit a nerve with her.
“I didn't raise it from the dead, okay?” Ghelta rolled her eyes and set the pup lightly on the table. She tugged at the corners of the bundle to make sure the pup was secure. “This one was left inside of Skartha when the rest came out. I only found it when it had the strength to howl at me.”
Ylethus took a step from the stew pot and lifted his sleeves up. He looked at the bundle and then lifted up the pup. “So, what are you going to do now?” He prodded at the cloth with one of his meaty fingers and saw the little wolf nuzzle at him. His features immediately softened.
“I’m going to raise it as my own.” Ghelta beamed proudly as she began to lift up and set down each of the bottles on the table. “I've stolen some milk to feed it.”
“Stolen from where, exactly?” Ylethus lifted his massive and bearded head to look at Ghelta. His eyes narrowed once more and he began to whistle from his nose as he took in sharp breaths.
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