The Furred Reich (6 page)

“Oww! Mother-fluffer!”

The high-pitched curse would have sounded almost comical on another day. Kasha ripped out the spear and spit up soil under his paws as he sprinted off into the night.

“Get him! Get him! Call the wolftaurs I don’t care! I’m tired of this!”

The fields were Kasha’s home, and on foot he easily outran the ‘head-hunters’ and their hand axes. Kasha smiled quietly to himself, hearing the two voices cursing behind him as he widened the distance. Kasha didn’t know where to go, but at least he’d gotten a little revenge.

“Ungh!”

Then he felt an impact on his side.

“Shh! Get down!”

Something had knocked him over. Kasha went tumbling to the ground. He opened his eyes. It was a fellow wolven who had pulled him into the grass.

“Shut up! We’ve been stalking these guys four hours! Stay down!”

The two head-hunting Grimeskins ran up following in search of Kasha, and the two hidden wolves sprang out, surprised the smaller beasts, and bit their necks clear through. The ax throwers died quickly.

“Time to go,” one of them said. His voice sounded familiar.

“Reince?” Kasha asked.

“That you Kasha?”

It was Reince! He was alive!

“Come on, Wolftaurs coming. Going to be here soon.”

Reince reached down to collect the hand ax from the green corpses then he leads the three of them away.

Kasha stared idly out into the late night. His nose already told him that no one had followed them.

“Hey. Your turn,” Reince tapped Kasha’s shoulder, “get some rest.”

Kasha staggered back to their impromptu hiding spot, and curled up into the grass to stare up at the twinkling sky. He let his eyes rest until the muggy sunrise got him up. That morning, Reince was staring off to the east, past a huddle of sunflowers.

“Morning…”

“Where are we?” Kasha asked.

“A ways away,” the third wolf said. Kasha didn’t know the fellow’s name, but his body paint signified they were both in the same tribe.

“My name’s Kasha.”

“I’m Meiss.”

“We’re getting our revenge today,” Reince called out.

The headhunters are good at hunting. But so are we. With three of us we’ll be able to kill them all. One by one.”

Kasha got up and looked over the precipice of endless grass.

“You think anyone else is out there?”

“Don’t know,” Reince said, picking up his spear.

“We may have some more friends. Important thing is to hit the Grimeskins back.”

“Don’t you think we should fall back more?” Kasha replied.

“Uh, Kasha. We go west any further and it’s Shattered Paw Tribe territory.”

“Exactly,” Kasha nodded.

“That’s exactly why we should do it. That way if the Grimeskins want us they’ll have to go into Shattered Paw territory.”

“Yeah but… Shattered Paw will kill us too.”

“And who do you fear more?” Kasha asked. “Besides. If we’re quiet, we can sneak around unnoticed. We can use Shattered Paw as an object. A third party.”

“That’s crazy, Kasha. So crazy it might work.”

Reince motioned for them to get up, and the three of marched further into the grass.

Meerkats

“…Did you just come from that airship?”

By the time Hans gave up chasing the Messerschmitt and turned back to the town, the inhabitants had all gathered and were staring at him. A crowd of a few dozen ‘prairie dogs,’ all of them dressed in flowing white, stood and stared. The man who had just asked Hans the question was carrying a staff and wore a hat that looked like the onion domes which topped so many Russian churches.

“Yeah. I’m, um… Lost, and I have to get back to the airship.”

“Right now? But it is being the hottest time of the day! You’ll get hurt if you are going out now!” The elder’s considerably younger wife chimed in.

“Especially if you are going that way,” the elder ‘prairie dog’ retorted.

“Oh.”

“Why not be staying here until nightfall?”

“Well, I would. But I just got kicked out of my room.”

“I mean be staying with us!” he said.

Hand looked around at the faces of the crowd gathered before him. They looked pretty nice, and they certainly knew this land better than he did.

“Um, alright. Thank you!”

Hans followed the crowd of ‘prairie dogs’ along the stone-lain road and back toward the huddle of white boxes. One of the excited boys came running up to Hans and tried to grab at the Mauser.

“Ah, careful” Hans said, covering the the gun with his arm. “This could be very dangerous.”

“WHERE ARE YOU COMING FROM?” the boy shouted.

“A place far, far away. Where the humans live.”

The crowd stopped at the elder’s home and all of them turned to Hans.

“Please,” the elder said, “until you are being fully rested, we want you to stay and having our good hospitality!”

The elder shooed the others away, and led Hans inside his comfortable home, where pillows lined the walls. They gave Hans a place to rest, and soon he was surrounded by flat breads, lamb meat, and inquisitive kids.

“Wow! So what is the war like?!” One of the boys shouted.

That was question sure to darken Hans’ mood.

“Well, it’s terrible. Like a monster that consumes helpless men. You watch your friends get killed and die in your arms.”

The kids’ faces stared blankly at him. How could he make them understand? Perhaps an example of his own experience would paint the right picture.

“Like my friend Ernst. He was driving a supply truck and got hit by one of the enemy’s ‘airships.’ The bottom half of his face was blown off. I took the truck, and tried driving him to the nearest hospital but…”

The kids just kept staring blankly at Hans. They weren’t getting it. And now this whole thing was annoying and angering him. It was hardly a way to remember Ernst, who died in the passenger seat of that truck, gripping Hans’ arm as tight as he could. The kids just weren’t capable of understanding.

Hans was about to do what he swore he never would: Turn war experience into a consumable story. What else was there to do in this situation?

What was the war like?

“Oh it’s so scary! We fight the bad Bolsheviks and there are so many of them!”

“How many?!” One of the boys suddenly lit up.

“Very many! Sometimes there are waves of men as far as the eye can see!”

“Woah! And do they ever win?”

“Oh, yes, if you’re not careful. Once my comrades and I dug a hole and shot at them. There were so many Bolsheviks that we ran out of bullets to kill them with!” He motioned to the wreath of machine gun cartridges around his neck.

“Did you get away?”

“Oh, yeah, we all got away!”

That wasn’t true, but everyone liked a story where the good guys win.

“And when we ran out of this stuff, I had to throw THIS.”

Hans reached to his waist and pulled out the stick grenade strapped under his belt.

“It makes a big explosion when you throw it. BOOOOM!”

Hans gestured with his arms. Even the little girls were awestruck. But the girls asked about different things: Comrades, pets and girlfriends. They giggled when Hans said he had none of the latter.

Later the adults brought out wine. That afternoon Hans got drunk and slept well past night time. His drunkenness didn’t matter, because the entire town seemed to take ownership of him. They insisted he stay that night, which he did, and then stayed the next day, too.

By the time he left, Hans had a full stomach and another great sleep. The villagers waved him off and gave him a sack full of food to carry for his journey. He stuffed the sack into his helmet. Hans knew there was only one thing to do: Find the pilot of that Messerschmitt, whoever he was. That meant giving up his trek to The Velt. It also meant marching in a new direction: North.

To Safety

For a short-legged cat, Asril adjusted well to caravan life. That wasn’t such a surprise. Asril was accustomed to transient existence long before the green-skinned beasts drew near, but that past was something she really wanted to keep a secret. Aboard the caravan she was surrounded by thirteen others who were looking out for her, and there was a shred security in that, one that she hadn’t known for awhile.

She had come to know most of the traveling party by now. Besides Tanjung there were the boys Meru, Bagya and Martaka. Clara had two kittens. Then there were two other girls her age: Tari was the prettiest of them, and she stood almost a head taller than herself and the other girl, Ani, who seemed quite nice to Asril, and often shared dried beef stick with her.

In the days before, Asril watched out a little square window as benevolent springtime sunshine turned to muggy heat, and hilly rice fields gave way to tropical foliage and fruit trees. But the horse-drawn convoy pressed on. Breaks were brief and far between. When the rain came, it pounded down on top of the closed caravan. Ani got sick a few days in, and Asril was assigned to look over her.

She had learned a little travel etiquette over the last week, too: It was up to the entire traveling party how fast the caravan should move, when it should stop and how it should defend itself. But in this case the conductor simply took off out of Miao. A few days passed before he even once pulled over. The passengers all got out to discuss. This gave Asril a chance to look at everyone aboard.

As she stepped out, she saw that the conductor was another one of those white tigers that were a majority everywhere as they continued north and west. Many other races and species were aboard too: Tigers with black and orange stripes, cats of various markings and fur colors, and equines, who were even taller than the tigers. There were also quite a few orange canines aboard. Asril heard them called “foxings” or something like that. Of the foxings, there was one with multiple tails. Asril thought he was cute and smart-looking. But now was no time to be gawking, so she stayed firmly with her group, and with Tanjung, who stood in front of her.

“We are in clear danger,” the conductor called out into the otherwise peaceful tropical morning. “To escape to safety behind the mountains, speed is the key. I intend to stop only once a day, for one hour. You’ll have to eat, buy supplies, and even bathe during that time. If we can do this, I believe we can reach Preena Pass in just two weeks. Our journey won’t be a comfortable one, but it is one way I can guarantee your safety. Does anyone have any objections?”

Aside from crying babies the crowd was silent. All of them were going to the same place for the same reason. All of them understood the urgency. And that was that, it seemed.

The next few days gave Asril some sense of inner peace. There wasn’t much food available, but it was enough to get by. Within the group, everyone soon knew what everyone else was doing. What was the use in stealing when everyone is looking out for one another? Or maybe it was that she’d be caught so easily if she tried to steal.

“What will you do when we get through?”

Tanjung’s voice woke Asril up as she was curled up on the floor. She stirred and sat up, knees hugging her chest.

“I don’t know. Whatever there is…” She yawned out. “What about you?”

“I’m sick of running. I wanted to fight but my family sent me out against my will. Once we get behind the mountains I’m gonna help keep the monsters on the other side.”

Tanjung sighed as he looked at the ground. “It’s kinda embarrassing. I wanted to fight but my parents said I was too young. I understand how a girl like you would be sent away, but—”

“My… family didn’t send me out when the monsters came. I got disowned a year ago.”

Her secret blurted itself out with surprising ease.

“What? Why?”

“Because I steal stuff.” She looked away from him.

“…Oh.”

“Well, I don’t believe in pity. Things happen and you have to play that hand you’ve got.”

“I’m glad. I hate getting furres’ pity,” she managed a smile.

“Just don’t tell Clara, alright?”

Tanjung nodded. “I won’t.”

Days rolled by and the altitude grew. The underbrush and canopy thinned away and the air once again lost its mugginess. A wall of pointed rock greeted them in the distance. It was their destination. Even the green beasts would have a tough time getting over those rocks, much less passing through the sweltering jungles. After almost a month of running, Asril was finally safe.

According the the drivers, Preena was the first town on the other side and it was there that everyone’s new life would start. Asril decided that she would stay with Tanjung and, hopefully stay in one of the groups for awhile. The convoy rolled on to its last stop, a fort planted on a narrow, winding dirt intersection in a gauntlet of mountains.

“The lord of this land has closed the border to all but natives of this land and to our own kind.”

Two staunch, orange-and-black tigers said to the convoy’s conductors, both of the latter were tigers of the wrong stripe to enter.

“No, no, no. We have a passport here, and permission for this convoy to enter. The passengers are refugees.” The driver furnished the edict.

“We’ve done this a few times in the past weeks, you know…”

“The pass is now closed. Turn around or else.”

The patchwork throng of fleers stood around bewildered. It took only minutes for the news to spread. Asril and the group then stepped out into the thin air. She didn’t see much before it happened, and only knew that the conductors refused to turn back and demanded the complication be sorted out. Babies were wailing all around.

Asril didn’t see how the violence started, but the angry shouts and sharp screams of adult males drowned out the children’s crying. Many in the desperate crowd were now charging the front and getting mercilessly cut down by whoever was guarding it.

Asril had developed a kind of sixth sense for the outcome of violent fights. The street-smart thief grabbed hold of Tanjung’s arm and pulled.

“Come on! We gotta run if we wanna live!”

Hans Solo

“Hey. Human. Get up.”

Hans’ head was still pounding. How did he get here? He remembered being placed in a cart by the meerkats the other day while he was hung over, but remembered little else.