A Courage of Ruffled Feathers

Two

Creature of Change

 

He was hunting a roebuck. A magnificent beast with a coat the colour of sunlight on wheat. It wove through the forest before him, always just out of his reach. The trees around them were tall, thick beeches, their leaves fresh and tender, the air was warm with spring. The hunter looked down at the bow in his hands, a slender thing of white wood, smooth to his touch. He felt a quiver on his back, heavy with arrows. He looked up and the buck was almost out of his sight, leaping ahead fast, so fast. Its haunches rippling with strength it drove forward over fallen trunks, through brush and thicket, its small hooves unerring and sure-footed over a sea of softly rustling leaves.

The hunter did not dare reach for an arrow, because he knew if he left the buck out of his sight one more time, it would be gone forever. So he pushed on, willing himself closer to his quarry and hearing his silent wish it seemed the underbrush parted before him. Slowly he gained on the buck as the forest changed around them. The beeches became firs, their needles dark and hard. They shut out the light and gloom crept over the forest floor. But the buck was still there, close now, its coat turned to the colour of blood, its short antlers silver.

With each step the hunter gained on it, his fingers tightening around what had become a spear in his hand, his breath harsh. His bare feet were clawed and he sank those claws deeply into the soft moss beneath him, pushing himself forward ever faster and faster. He was close now, and raised his spear, the musk and the fear of his prey a delicious scent in his nostrils. His muscles bunched up tightly in his shoulders and then he released the power, sending his spear on a path as true as he had ever thrown. But the buck leapt and leapt away and the spear whirred into darkness.

The hunter cursed and rushed on, the buck now only barely discernible between the deepening shadows. In the next moment it was gone and he thought it lost until he stumbled onto a glade that broke open before him, and there it stood. But it was a buck no more. Its antlers had grown to a glorious crown, a thick mane adorned its long neck. It turned towards him and regarded him calmly and without fear. Then it lowered its head.

The hunter froze. Without his spear he was weaponless. His chest bare, his legs in thin linen trousers, he had no armour to guard him from the creature that came slowly at him. Fear rose in him and he wanted to take a step backwards but his feet were rooted to the ground, covered in thick, green moss. And before he could try to rip them loose, the stag was before him, its split hooves sunken deep into the ground as if part of the earth itself.

The hunter dared not look up, he closed his eyes instead, waiting, hoping. And then he felt its touch upon him. Its presence was heat and musk and power. Its snout moved over his shoulders, his neck, nudging his collarbone. Its breath left a trail of heat where it washed over his skin. He could feel his muscles tightening and relaxing in turn, helpless against the closeness of the beast. His eyes were shut tightly, and his hands were in fists, his breathing harsh, his heart a drumbeat. He felt the soft wetness of the snout on his chest, then on the insides of his elbows, each in turn. Then on the hollow just under his breastbone, where it lingered and sniffed and pushed against him until he stumbled backwards, opening his eyes.

A gaze deep and dark, with pupils like that of a goat bore into him, but it looked out of a human face, a face the hunter knew very well. “Esca”, he breathed. But there was no sign of recognition in the unsettling, inhuman eyes.

The creature that looked like Esca was clad in a cloak of red deer hide. A full collar of dark fur rose high around its neck, hiding the sharp jawbones. Pushed up onto its forehead was the mask of a stag, the antlers shadowing narrow shoulders. It stepped forward and lifted its hand to the hunter's neck, and then pulled down slowly but relentlessly until he knelt before it. Its strength was frightening but strangely, he did not fear.

There were fingers tightening in his hair then and his head was pulled back, his throat exposed. He looked up into a distant, grey sky before his eyes flickered to the face of the creature holding him. And it had become truly Esca, his eyes now the colour of the sky, his lips parted as he lowered his head.

As that open mouth touched the hunter's throat, the blood in the kneeling man's veins turned to fire, flowing through him until it had reached every crevice, every nook that was him. And it its wake it left only bliss.

 

Marcus woke taking one deep breath, his skin tingling. With his eyes still closed he lifted his hand to his throat before the realization of the waking world hit him. He sighed and opened his eyes.

A rough network of tightly inwoven branches was above him. An arm's length to his left was stone, the same distance to his right were the remains of a fire, just outside the little lean-to under which he was lying. On the other side of it was Esca. Marcus chest seemed to open just a bit, as if to give his heart a little more space for a deeper, fuller beat.

He stayed where he was, studying Esca. Not my slave, he thought, my friend.

His friend was sitting with his arms crossed above his knees, his forehead rested against them, his face hidden. He seemed to be asleep, for in all the minutes Marcus watched him, he did not move. A patch of sunlight touched the Britons left shoulder and part of his head and the Roman could not help but be reminded of the roebuck he had hunted in his dream, the wheat-gold of its coat. And he could not help remember the rest of the dream: the stag (power and danger), the strange, masked man (mystery) and Esca (fire and bliss).

Marcus sat up abruptly, taken by surprise by the strength of those feelings. But nausea at having moved too quickly drove them from him and he gasped, pressing his fist to his lips, fighting the urge to heave.

Something shifted to his right, then Esca was at his side.

“You are awake.”

The voice was filled with relief, the hand on Marcus' neck was cool.

“How do you feel?”

At the question Marcus looked up at a face taut with exhaustion, deep shadows under the blue eyes.

“I was hunting a buck,” he said and Esca laughed.

 

~~~