See You In the Dog StarA.R. Rowland
8000 words “Don’t go to that mountain.” I ignored my mother. Her toes were the only thing that dared to cross the threshold of my room. The jacket I slipped on was almost too small, though it was barely a year old; I’d need to craft another soon. A breeze ruffled the curtains of my open window, bringing in the scent of rain. Bad travel weather, but that couldn’t be helped. At least my fire magic would be useful for something. There was a rumble of thunder. “Do you hear me, Amma?” “I don’t have a choice.” “That… thing is still out there,” Mother said. Her hands were clenched at her sides, fingers stained orange from years of mixing potions. “It’s Hallow’s Eve. The spirits will be restless.” I ground my teeth together. “I’m not scared of a few spirits. And if I see that monster on the way—” Lightning danced across the faded blue walls. I studied the zig-zagging shadows. “— I’ll put him down for good. He deserves it after what he did to Magic.” Mother shifted on her feet but didn’t respond. I studied her out of the corner of my eye. The plaid dress she wore was frayed and blemished like her fingers. Her hair, streaked with gray, came to her shoulders. The lines on her face were dark and pronounced, like an artist had taken charcoal to them. Hard to believe she was only a few years shy of fifty. I gave myself a once-over. Jacket, on. Boots, laced. The dagger I had fashioned from deer antlers, clipped to my waist. I looked for my staff, the last piece of gear. It was where I left it against the wall by my unmade bed. I reached for it, my eyes landing on a little blue ball resting against the leg of the bed frame. Indentions marred its surface where teeth had pierced it. Merely memories, those teeth were now. My eyes burned. Slowly, almost reverently, I picked up the ball. Mother’s eyes followed as I tucked it into an inside pocket of the jacket. It lay close to my heart, but it wasn’t big enough to fill the hole that its previous owner had left. Mother’s lips puckered the way they always did when she was about to say something hurtful. “Some things should stay dead, Amma.” “Magic is not a thing.” I spat the words like venom. “Just because you never liked him doesn’t mean that he doesn’t matter.” “I never said I didn’t like him.” She said it calmly, but I heard the harshness in her tone. “But there are more important things in life than a dog. You could die!” I snatched up my staff. The crooked wood was etched with swirls and symbols that had taken years to carve. “You don’t understand.” The crystal at the tip turned a violent red. Mother’s nostrils flared. “You’re right, I don’t. I don’t want my only daughter gallivanting across the mountainside while a monster roams the woods, all to talk to a spirit that may or may not help her and may not be real!” Not this again. “Pa believed.” “Your father believed a lot of things,” she scoffed. “No one’s ever proved there’s a dog spirit, or if dogs and wolves and the like even have souls.” Her words grew an edge. “Magic’s dead. He’s not coming back. You need to accept that.” I spun and slashed my staff through the air. A line of flame sprouted from the tip, searing the wooden floor all the way to the far wall. Papers flew off the little desk in the corner. For several seconds the only sound was sizzling. The fire’s path was deep; the panels would need to be replaced. Mother hadn’t moved. Her face bore a disappointed frown. I turned away. My father had left a lot of things unfinished, but he made damn sure to give me his temper before he passed. It was wild, a stallion that played tame until the proper moment. If you weren’t ready on the reins, you’d be reared off. Footsteps scuffed the floor behind me. I didn’t turn as Mother laid a hand on my shoulder. With the other she created air currents to funnel the smoke through the window. “I have to do this,” I said. “I can’t live without him.” More thunder, closer this time. A few raindrops tinkered off the roof. “The light’s fading.” Her grip tightened for a second, but she released me with a sigh. I avoided her gaze as I made for the door but I didn’t make it past the threshold before she called my name. Maybe it was just the light, but her eyes seemed a little wet. “This is a fool’s errand.” My shoulders slumped. There was still time to change my mind, run back into her arms. I thought of Magic, cold and still, blood coating his fur. I straightened my spine. “Then I’m a fool.” 
The weather quickly turned sour. It started to sprinkle when I was halfway across our meadow and turned to rain as soon as I reached the forest’s edge. True fall had not set in, so the leaves provided some cover. A few paces inside the tree line were two graves, marked with wooden poles. One had grass growing around it; the other was fresh dirt. “Bye, Pa,” I said to the first. I ignored the other; I had already said goodbye to it enough. Foliage crumbled under my boots as I walked along the deer trail. If luck was on my side, I would get to Sirius’s Hollow before midnight. The storm blocked my view of the moon, but I knew it must have risen. I had until it reached its zenith, for that was when the spirits of the recently departed left and never returned. This was my one and only chance to get Magic back. The temperature tumbled as I went deeper into the trees. My breath fogged before me like dragon flame. I once believed that Sirius of the Dog Star had been as mythical as the great flying reptiles. That is, until Pa spoke of him after a Hallow’s Eve hunting trip. “He was massive,” Pa had said, his gruff voice as excited as I had ever heard it. I stared at him with awe, my venison stew growing cold. “Even bigger than our house?” His laughter was two rocks scraping together, rough and rarely used. “Way bigger. His fur was whiter than bone, and his eyes were fallen stars. But his howl…” His tone grew reflective. “…his howl was a judgment. And from every corner of the world came the spirits of dogs and wolves and foxes, and they joined in until all anyone could hear was their music.” “Enough with silly stories,” Mother chided. Her face had been lighter then. “If he were real, do you think he’d show himself to a simple tanner?” “Well, my dear, he did.” he whispered to me when Mother moved out of earshot. “He’s as real as you or I.” “I’ll see him someday too!” five-year old me vowed. “I’m sure you will.” I shivered as thunder chased the warm memory away. I wasn’t sure this was what Pa had in mind. I kicked a fallen limb off the trail, wondering if he would have approved of this journey. Darkness was beginning to fall. I held my staff in front of me, the crystal a warm orange. The Shelterwood was quiet; the only thing that moved were late-term fireflies, chasing each other around tree trunks. They blinked like eyes, the forest itself watching my progress. I stopped to lean against a moss-covered trunk and pulled a piece of parchment from my pocket, so faded that the drawings on it were almost unreadable. “Don’t tell your mother,” Pa said. He’d found me playing with Magic in the yard. It was a nice summer evening. Mother had gone to bed with a headache. The grass was long and wild; Magic sniffed around for rabbits. My confusion grew when he shoved parchment into my hands, his fingers still black with ink. Pa answered my question before it formed. “This is a map to the hollow. It’s just through the forest and part way up the mountain. If you want to see him, follow my steps.” Magic barked as a rabbit spooked from its burrow. He gave chase, his golden fur visible among the greenery. “But I thought we were going together!” Coughs clawed their way out of his throat, bending my tall and strong Pa in two. There was blood on his palm when he straightened. “I wish I could,” he said hoarsely. Magic caught the rabbit; its squeal echoed through the meadow. “No,” I said. “You promised. Say you will!” Pa looked at me with eyes that had grown duller by the day. “I’ll try.” Liar. I ran a finger over the faint red X that marked the hollow. Would Sirius still be there, after all these years? Spirits usually stayed close to where they died, but Sirius didn’t seem normal. Did he wander? Was I looking in the wrong place? I huffed and carefully refolded the map. It was no good wondering. I was not turning back. Memories didn’t matter, only possibilities. Grass and weeds brushed my legs. I had four, maybe five hours. The woods were easy enough, but the mountain…it was a good thing I didn’t mind climbing. A twig snapped. Halfway over a fallen log, I paused. The fireflies were gone, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My ears strained but the forest was silent save for the rain. I shook my head. I was being silly; it was probably just a creature stirring from its burrow. I turned to go when a bush rustled. “Who’s there?” I asked the forest warily. There was movement; something black stepped into the open. The wolf was large, big enough to give a grizzly second thoughts. Its yellow eyes glowed and were the only part of it that had any color. Shaggy fur dripped from its frame like stangs of oil, the ends collecting dirt as they dragged along the ground. A growl rumbled in its throat. I growled back. “You!” So it was still around. “Come to finish the job?” Light flared from my staff as it stocked up energy. A couple of fire blasts should do the trick. The wolf raised its lips to reveal sharp canines. My staff gave a small ding. “Die!” I took a shot, but my aim was off and the fireball scorched a nearby tree. The wolf flinched from the heat, eyes ablaze with anger. I steadied and tried again. With unnatural agility it ducked, the fire sailing over its head. My grip on the staff tightened. It had one more shot before it needed to recharge. With a yell I aimed for the chest. The wolf jumped, but not quick enough. Fire struck its shoulder, and it howled in pain. A smile formed as I watched it try and escape the flames, turning and spinning in a mad dance until the air reeked of singed fur. “That’s for Magic,” I sneered. The wolf seemed to take this personally. It stopped and, to my shock, dropped to the ground. The fire went out as it rolled. I grit my teeth and tried another shot; the crystal only flickered. The wolf hopped to its paws, fire-free, and I could have sworn its mouth curled upward. I turned and tore through the underbrush, the wolf a few paces behind. Quickly, I channeled my energy and shot fire over my shoulder. It lacked the power of a fully-focused blast but forced the beast to dodge. It only gained me a few seconds, but it was better than nothing. The forest grew darker the farther I ran from the path. My breath came in great gasps as I hurtled rocks and ducked under limbs. There were several holes—capable of breaking an ankle—that I avoided thanks to the light from the staff. But even that wasn’t enough to help me avoid running straight into a bramble patch. I yelped as thorns cut into my skin, my clothes offering little resistance. The wolf rammed me from behind; I felt air brush my ear as jaws snapped shut inches from it. I swung the staff like a bat and struck it on the head, feeling a surge of satisfaction as it fell farther into the brambles. It cried out when shaggy fur failed to stop thorns from pricking skin. In its moment of weakness, I forged forward. The thicket ended a few yards ahead. If I could get to the clearing beyond, I’d have a chance of escape. With one final surge, I burst free. The clearing was small, the grass broken only by the decaying form of a tree long fallen. The clouds shifted to reveal the moon. Light bathed everything white. My breath caught in my throat. Across the glade stood a small cabin, seemingly abandoned. The windows were boarded with moss-covered planks. Piles of dirt lay across the steps like stray cats basking in the sun. Daffodils sprouted from the chimney, yellow petals stretching towards the sky. The building itself was low and squatted, toad-like, among the trees. There wasn’t time to ogle. The wolf managed to find its footing and was tearing through the remaining thicket with wild abandon. I raced toward the cabin, slipping on the wet grass. As I scrambled up the steps, I read the crooked sign above the door: ONE-EYE’S TRINKETS AND BOBBLES ANCIENT AND MODERN With no time to think, I reached for the doorknob; it was unlocked. The wolf was bounding across the glade, making several feet of progress in each stride. I swung myself inside and slammed the door just as it reached the steps. The wolf bounced off the door in a thudding crash of fur, growling furiously when it held. As my heart slowed, I turned to study the shop. It took several moments for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior. There were no windows, only candles that were less a way to light the room than a means to guide the shopper through the maze of display cases and tables. Wherever I looked, there was junk spilling onto the floor, half-rotten books and broken wands and robes that were covered in a fine layer of dust. The place smelled of incense. Something touched my calf. I jerked around, but it was only a small dog sitting with its tail over its paws. No, not a dog—a fox. Its fur was brittle and of a powdered bone shade, a far cry from the beautiful orange it should be. Each breath seemed a battle, its sides rising and falling rapidly. The nodules of its spine were visible. Though it looked like poor taxidermy, it wasn’t until I looked at its face that I knew that something was very wrong. Where eyes should be there was nothing but empty sockets. Bile rose in my throat. “If that wolf breaks my door, you’re footing the bill.” I jumped; the voice came from the back of the shop. “Are you One-Eye?” I called. “Depends. Who’s asking?” “No one,” I said. There was a moment of silence. “Well, ‘No One,’ are you here to shop? Or just here to damage more of my property?” “I’m sorry,” I said. One-Eye’s voice kept changing directions; I wasn’t sure where to look. “I didn’t know anyone else lived in the Shelterwood.” There was a thump, then shuffling. From the shadow of the center aisle emerged a man so hunched over that his back was almost perfectly round. He grasped the shelves with one wrinkled hand, the other holding a candle that dripped wax. White whiskers stuck out of the corners of his mouth. The little hair left on his head was sparse and wiry, and an eyepatch covered his left eye. “I’m more of a temporary resident,” he croaked. “What did you say your name was?” “I didn’t.” The fox made a gurgling sound and trotted to One-Eye’s side. The old man smiled. “I see Vos let you in. He’s always been clever like that.” Vos’s muzzle turned in my direction. A nearby candle flickered without a breeze. One-Eye eyed me critically. “Seems you took a tumble or two.” In the safety of the shop, the sting of my cuts was beginning to be bothersome. A few of the deeper ones were dripping blood. The old man scowled. “Come, come. I just cleaned these floors, you know.” He made to walk deeper into the shop but raised a hand when I made to follow. “Your staff. Leave it by the door. You won’t be needing it.” I didn’t budge. “It stays with me.” “Relax, girl. That beast is strong, but it won’t hurt you here. And neither will I.” The staff flared to life, the yellows and oranges and reds inside the crystal swirling together in a fiery sea. One-Eye seemed amused. “A fire witch? Impressive, for a beginner. Be cautious. Fire is powerful, but it has nothing against ice.” From the tip of his pointer finger came a cold blue light. An icicle sprouting from the nail, curled like a sickle. “Don’t try me in my own domain,” he warned. Tension faded to curiosity. “How are you doing that?” “I don’t need a wand or staff for this type of magic.” He nodded toward the door. “Put it down.” With a sigh, I lowered the staff and leaned it next to the door; I could still hear snarls from the other side. “Smart choice,” the shopkeeper said. Vos gave another gurgle. One-Eye nodded, responding to something I couldn’t hear. “You wonder about his appearance? Go ahead and ask,” he said at my silence. I hesitated. “Why does he look…” “Like death?” One-Eye’s chuckle was bitter. “He was dead, a long time ago.” He studied me. “You carry the same sadness I did.” Magic flashed in my mind with his soft fur that smelled of earth and crushed pine needles. I remembered brilliant eyes that saw straight into you and a tail that wagged in sweeping circles when he was especially happy. “I don’t want to talk about it.” One-Eye hummed, as if this answered his question. “Is there a reason you’ve angered Vilkas so?” “Vilkas?” “Surely you’ve seen him. Big, black, furry thing? Currently damaging what few brain cells he still has against my door?” “He and I have business,” I answered darkly. The wizard’s expression was heavy. “It would seem so. Come.” One-Eye led me deeper into the store, allowing me to finally follow. The shelves along the path were as cluttered as those in the front. The bookshelves leaned precariously against each other; I wasn’t sure how they were still standing. I looked back once to find that the door—and my staff—had disappeared. Vos trotted at my side with gasping breaths that grated my ears. Left. Right. Straight. Right. One-Eye ambled on. He didn’t acknowledge me and I chose not to break the silence. With careful listening, I could make out the slight hum of magic in the air. I glanced at the items we passed. There were, of course, standard magical wares: crystal balls filled with writhing smoke, wands of wood and clay, vials full of colorful potions with smeared, unidentifiable labels. Then there were the other things hiding among the normal. A stuffed bear head—a baby, given it was only the size of a wagon wheel—watched us pass from its perch on an upper shelf. A jar of sawed-off fingers floating in green liquid. There was a necklace of jagged teeth that I didn’t recognize around the neck of a mannequin, tips pointed inward toward the throat. My stomach rolled at the preservation jars filled with eyeballs, kidneys, and other organs that I didn’t take the time to study. What kind of magic required such ingredients? The walk ended where a makeshift office had been cleared among the bookshelves. A desk covered in vials and bottles claimed most of the space. A jar hung over a small candle with the content bubbling. Bits of parchment and broken quills littered the floor. “Sit.” The wizard pointed to a stool. I sat obediently. He scoured the room, muttering to himself as he plucked things off the shelves. When his arms were full of bandages and ointments, he returned. Vos settled underneath the table and curled his nose over his tail. “Take off your jacket and roll up your sleeves.” Even in the low light, the extent of my injuries was apparent. There was not an inch of skin that wasn’t marred by a cut. The shirt had soaked up most of the blood, but a few drops rolled down my wrist from the jostling. One-Eye took a cloth and dipped it into a nearby phial. “Hold still.” That was my only warning as he took the rag and swiped it down my arm. I yelped at the sting, drawing back. “What the—” “I told you to hold still.” This time I was prepared and merely flinched as the antiseptic was applied. Neither of us spoke. The wizard’s hands were surprisingly gentle and he cleaned my wounds with skill that came from years of practice. The fox snuggled further into himself. “It’s not Vilkas’s fault.” His voice startled me from my thoughts. “What is he?” “He’s like Vos,” said One-Eye. “A spirit that died and returned to the world of the living.” I gasped. “So Sirius…he’s real?” “As real as you and me, girl. You plan to seek him out?” “Yes.” I flinched again when One-Eye, finished with one arm, attacked the other. “My dog, Magic. He…Vilkas killed him.” The wizard was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure it was the wolf that killed him?” “Excuse me?” I hissed. “Of course it was!” “If you say so,” the old man shrugged. “Vilkas was brought back when his owner made a deal with Sirius. Long story short, the owner died and left Vilkas alone. That was decades ago, now. His mind is long gone and all that remains is rage. Such a soul seeks true death; I’m not sure if he’ll manage to find it.” “That’s…” I had only been parted from Magic for days. What would it be like to be parted for years? To feel the loss as intensely twenty years from now as the day it happened? One-Eye nodded. “You’re right when you say he is a beast. Nothing remains of the noble wolf he once was.” He smiled sadly at the sleeping fox. “The same thing will happen to Vos. Death doesn’t exist in the same way for people like me, but one day I will be gone, and he'll be left to his fate.” “Can they not die on their own?” “They may wither and decay, but they can never return to paradise by themselves. Rebirth has a cost, little witch.” His eye glittered. “Consider whether you’re willing to let them pay for it.” My thoughts tumbled together. The wizard stood. “Your arms are taken care of. I’ll leave your legs to you.” Into my hands he placed a small tub of ointment. “Now, it’s time to be off. You’ll find Vilkas has run off in the other direction; you’ll be safe for a time. You know the way, don’t you?” “I think so.” When I arose, I pulled out the map for his inspection. One-Eye grunted approvingly. “Whoever drew this drew it well. Get there by midnight, and you’ll be sure to meet him. Vos will see you out.” At the sound of his name the fox roused, stretching his mouth into a toothless yawn. “Thank you,” I said, almost as an afterthought. One-Eye grunted again. “Do buy something if you happen upon my place again. I have expenses, you know.” As if that were a sufficient good-bye, the wizard turned to his desk, picked up a piece of parchment and began reading. At a nudge from Vos, I followed him back into the maze of shelves. The wizard faded from view; the pitter-patter of fox paws was the only sound. We arrived at the door much more quickly than we had left it. Vos pawed at the wood. “Thanks,” I said again. A gurgle and then the fox was gone, trotting back to his master’s side. Would that really be Magic’s fate? Would he be sickly like Vos, or go mad like Vilkas? For the first time, I felt genuine doubt. Was it fair to bring Magic back if this was the life to be expected? It isn’t fair that he lost his life to begin with, a part of me replied. You owe him yours. That much was true. With a sigh, I stuffed the ointment into my pocket and grabbed my staff—by the door, just as the wizard promised—and put my ear against the wood. Nothing. I opened it an inch. The moon shone on an empty meadow. I stepped out cautiously. An owl flew over the trees in silent flight. The storm had passed, and I could now use the stars for guidance. There was the North Star, and Orion, and there, hovering over the mountain top, was the Dog Star. It shone brighter than its neighbors, distinguishable by its blue-white light. Was Magic watching my progress? Did he want me to succeed? I was halfway across the meadow when something urged me to look back. The squat cabin was gone as if nothing had ever been there. If not for the tub of ointment, I could have thought it all a dream. 
I waited until I was a safe distance from the clearing before tending to my legs. The cuts went up and down and across each other like tally marks. Cool fall air caused gooseflesh to form between them. When a bush rustled nearby, I scrambled for my staff. But it was only a fox—a live one—with a rabbit in its jaws. It gave me a curious glance before sprinting back into the undergrowth. There seemed to be plenty of food here. Vilkas’s hatred wasn’t reserved for humans. When the great wolf moved into our part of the wood, he had made his presence known immediately. The rage-fueled furball left destruction wherever he went, uprooting plants, leaving claw marks in bark, and decimating the rabbit population that was our major food source. “This is the third time this week.” Mother and I were digging for roots when we discovered the latest atrocity: a burrow of mangled rabbits, two adults and nine kits. The grass around the burrow entrance had been flattened, fresh dirt unearthed in several spots. The perpetrator had dug them out. Magic sniffed around the scene with raised hackles. “It didn’t even eat them,” Mother mourned. Aside from puncture wounds, the carcasses were intact. I clenched my teeth. It was hunting for sport. “This has to stop.” The smell of rotting flesh made me gag. “He’ll kill all the rabbits and we’ll starve.” “No.” Mother’s voice was firm. “I will not have you—” “What’s our other option? Move?” I scoffed. “This is our home. If you won’t consider that, at least think of the animals. He’ll kill the whole forest if we don’t do something.” “No.” Magic and I winced at her tone. “It’s too dangerous,” Mother said with a little less force. “Let’s avoid this part of the forest for now. When it's had its fun, it will move on.” Mother turned and scanned the roots of a nearby tree. I lifted my face to the sun that broke through the leaves. Pa wouldn’t have hesitated. The sound of snuffling drew my attention. Magic whined and pawed at something in the grass. “What is it, boy?” I crouched to take a look. In a fresh pile of dirt was a clearly defined paw print. It was twice as big as Magic’s, and the dog was by no means small. I spotted another several feet away; its stride suggested a long and lanky body. The track was clear, leading deeper into the woods. “Good boy, Magic.” I scratched him behind his floppy ears. Mother had her back to me. Magic and I shared a look. We took off at a sprint. Mother’s shout of surprise was swallowed by the forest. Magic quickly found his way in front. “Track him, Magic,” I huffed as I followed him over a log. “Find him.” The forest floor was damp from recent rain. Magic put his nose to the ground and I was right on his heels. At one point the trail disappeared, but I didn’t fret. The dog’s scent work was the most magical thing I’d ever seen. We went at a decent pace to prevent Mother from catching up. Someone had to do something and that someone wasn’t going to be her. We came upon the edge of a creek, the water swollen past its normal banks. Something large and brown lay half-submerged in the water. “A doe,” I said aloud. Blood flowed from two puncture wounds and mixed with the muddy water. I stared into its sightless eyes. More senseless death. I reached out and rubbed my fingers through the coarse fur. Heat emanated from the body. This was fresh. Magic’s bark was my only warning before something hit me from behind. My staff flew from my hand; I landed in the creek. Water flew up my nose. I could see nothing but murky brown. I tried to wriggle free, but my knees sunk farther into mud. A few seconds later the weight was gone. I surfaced with a gasp, coughing up dirty water. Magic and a black wolf tussled on the creek bed, the dog’s golden fur already caked with mud. They were so conjoined that it was hard to tell where wolf ended and dog began. They broke apart. Magic scrambled to his paws, putting himself between me and the wolf. Angry growls came from his throat. One of his ears was shredded to ribbons and there was a nasty bite on his front leg but his teeth were red, so he’d inflicted wounds of his own somewhere. The wolf snarled back, and the sound made me shiver. Up close, he was even bigger than I originally thought. My staff! It was lying in the mud several feet away. My movement triggered the wolf, and he and Magic collided once more. I struggled to my feet as the two canines thrashed farther into the water. My hand had just brushed wood when I heard a painful cry. My heart sank as I spun around. Magic hung by his throat from the wolf’s strong jaws. Wheezes stumbled from his mouth. Blood spurted out when the wolf clamped down harder. Anger gave me strength. The staff dinged. “Let him go!” I raised my weapon and let out a stream of fire. The wolf dropped Magic to hop out of the way. Then, the fun apparently over, he turned and sprinted across the creek and into the trees. “Get back here!” Water splashed as I waded into the creek but I turned back at a high-pitched whine. Magic lay on the bank, muddy and wet. He wagged his tail weakly as I approached. Ignoring the water, I sank to my knees and pressed a hand to his jugular. Bright blood covered my hand in seconds. “It’s ok.” I fought to keep my voice steady. “Mom will get here. She’s healed you before. Just hang in there.” Magic’s eyes were glazed. I wasn’t sure he knew where he was. Gently, I moved his head onto my lap. Bird song filtered through the air in complete mockery of the situation. “This is all my fault,” I said. I stroked a hand through fur that was no longer golden. “I’m sorry, Magic. I’m so sorry.” Magic lifted his face to mine. A pink tongue licked the tears from my cheek, gentle and already cold with death. Magic collapsed back onto my lap. The rise and fall of his chest ceased; his eyes turned white. An owl hooted and I was back in the dark of the forest. With the cuts cared for, I started on my way as fast as possible. No matter how quick my pace, the memory always kept time. I heard Magic’s dying cry when the wind whistled through the grass, saw the white eyes in a rare pair of daisies growing in my path. The night was cold, but fury kept me warm. After a time, the ground grew more and more elevated, the giant oaks thinning into cypresses. Right where forest became rock, I paused to look at the map. I was more than halfway there. The climb would be short as long as I followed the Dog Star, for the hollow had been drawn directly below it. There was nothing but wind and rock and more wind. The path was so steep in some places that I crawled on my hands and knees to scale it. Go home, the wind said with each gust. Go home. As I climbed, I glanced over my shoulder. The Shelterwood lay far below. Would I have been able to see our meadow if there had been light? Was Mother sitting at our kitchen table with a cup of tea, waiting for her wayward daughter to come home? Vilkas didn’t appear, but I knew he was out there. Time passed and I couldn’t track it. The world became climbing, grabbing a chosen rock, holding on when the wind threatened to send me over the steep edge, repeat. The few trees that grew at this height were weathered and offered no protection. At times the gusts bent the weaker ones in half. A new question formed with each foot of ascendency. Was it right, what I was doing? Would he be happy back in a physical body? Could he be happy? I pulled myself up onto a flat rock. Instead of more mountain, a path led to an opening in the stone with darkness beyond. Staff in hand, I followed the gravely trail. I’d take the chance it led somewhere. The Dog Star hung right above me. The darkness was impenetrable, swallowing the light from my staff. I shuffled along, a hand against the wall. The texture under my palm changed from hard stone to crumbly clay. Just as quickly as it began, the tunnel ended. I paused at the opening. A grassy slope descended gently into the hollow, exactly as Pa had described. It was surrounded on three sides by rocky slopes while the fourth was exposed to open air; a fall-off that guaranteed a painful death. The grass was long, wild, and thriving despite the altitude. A weeping willow leaned over a pool of water. The air hummed with something otherworldly. I stepped into the hollow. The tingling caress of magic crawled up and down my arms like thousands of ants. A large mass came from the side. I had enough sense to raise my arms to shield my face before a large paw could swipe my eyes. “Vilkas, stop!” The force of the impact sent us both rolling down the hill. By sheer luck I landed on my feet with my staff in hand. I waited for the staff to charge. Vilkas continued to roll, his great mass taking him right to the edge of the pool. “I know what happened,” I said. The wolf shook his head and rose. At the staff’s ding, I shot a bolt of fire that he easily avoided. “I’m sorry you’ve been alone.” Another shot, another dodge. Vilkas was rabid with rage. Spit dripped from the corners of his mouth. He leapt for me once more and I moved to the side, aiming for the center of his chest. Before I could fire, Vilkas twisted in the air to match my movement. Dagger-like teeth clamped onto my staff and tore it from my hand; it landed somewhere in the grass. As I scrambled back to avoid being crushed, I drew the dagger at my side. The blade reflected the moon, almost at its zenith. Without preamble, Vilkas charged. I braced myself as we collided. I screamed as teeth pierced my outstretched arm. It made the perfect distraction. My dagger arm was left free, and it did not waver as I plunged the blade into the wolf’s exposed neck. Vilkas let go. I left the blade in and stepped away. The wolf clawed at his throat, but my strike had been true. Blood, bright against the black fur, poured down his chest to water the grass. He gave such a pitiful howl that my heart clenched. I watched, a solemn witness, as the great beast that had killed so many keeled over and died. For moments, all I did was stare. My only thought, my obsession, had been to stand here as the victor, to avenge Magic’s death. Yet my sadness grew, if possible, heavier. I found my staff a dozen yards away, its body less worse for wear than mine. When I returned to Vilkas, I pulled the dagger free with a sickening squish. The hollow was silent. “I hated you, for so long,” I said to the corpse. “I wanted to make you pay for what you took from me.” The body was warm when I touched the shoulder; the muscles underneath were well-defined. “But I never considered what had been taken from you.” I swallowed. “I’m sorry.” The moon was suspended in the sky. Everything froze, my words the final sentence in a grand incantation. Clouds came from nowhere to cover the stars, and the hollow was bathed in darkness. Vilkas’s body disappeared. The rise and fall of my chest was the only thing that grounded me as I could no longer feel the actual ground beneath my boots. I found myself mesmerized by the simple act of breathing. Time had no meaning; it could have been hours that I stood in silence or seconds. But there came a moment when the blackness seemed a little less dark. A breeze like the whispered words of the earth brushed my cheek. Awaken. He has come. The clouds drifted; moonlight appeared. He stood atop the pool of water as if it were solid. His form was more wolf-like than actual wolf. Through the blue glow that surrounded him, I made out a muzzle and large, triangular ears. A fluffy tail hung low, almost to the water’s surface. Where eyes should be were fallen stars of swirling white and set deep within the skull. My knees threatened to buckle underneath a stare that told me that his will was absolute, and the only magic that would protect me here was his own. I lowered the staff to rest against the slain wolf’s side. “Sirius,” I said with a shaky breath. “I have come with an offering and a petition.” My voice felt offensively loud. The spirit didn’t move, continuing to look upon me with pupilless eyes. “Please,” I prayed aloud. “Accept my offering. I…I want to see him. My Magic.” Sirius flicked an ear. The spirit opened his maw and from it came haunting howls, the most beautiful ones to ever exist. It was the music of the wild, both harsh and gentle, warm and cold, simultaneous and distinguishable. More howls joined in from the mountaintops, harmonizing and clashing notes until the earth itself joined in the great song. The song grew as voices joined. Spirits of foxes and wolves and coyotes popped into existence. Their white outlines swirled so that they seemed to constantly change shape. More and more appeared until not a foot of ground lay unoccupied. Some even sat in the upper branches of the willow tree. I glanced around. Magic should be here. Life returned to my limbs. Somehow I knew I needed to find him before the song ended. There wasn’t room to move around the spirits so I went straight through. They didn’t stop howling. “Magic!” My shout was barely audible as I raced through the crowd. The haunting music swelled. None of the spirits had Magic’s outline. Those at the edge of the hollow began to wink out, becoming balls of white that flung themselves into the heavens like shooting stars in reverse. And then, nothing. The song ended abruptly, the light disappeared, and the only living being in the hollow was me. I sank to my knees, feeling the grass crunch like thousands of tiny bones. The tears I fought to bury burst forth and the silence was wrecked by my sobs. No failure of mine had been so great. Magic was truly gone. It was my fault he was dead, and now it was my fault that he couldn’t live. I tried to recall his bright eyes…but what color had they been? His fur, so soft and shiny and that always smelled of...nothing. Had he smelled like anything at all? Sobs became wails, each cry tearing my throat to shreds. A paw step against the dirt alerted me to Sirius’s presence at my side. I peered up into his unreadable face. Being this close felt like basking in a winter sun’s deceptive warmth. “It’s my fault,” I choked. The spirit’s eyes swirled. The story spilled out in an unstoppable avalanche. I wasn’t sure he understood what I was saying, but he didn’t move away. I spoke of how I raised Magic from puppyhood, how he had become my best and only friend in our isolated home. I sobbed through the encounter with Vilkas. I told him of the foolishness that killed him. “That’s why I’ve come,” I said with salt on my tongue. “He deserves another chance. Please.” Sirius moved toward Vilkas’s cooling corpse. I scrambled upright on numb legs. It wasn’t the body but the staff that caught his attention. He sniffed it curiously; the crystal flickered to life. “Take it,” I said without hesitation. Sirius flicked his tail. He raised a paw and brought it against the earth with a smack, and the ground shook at the impact. I stumbled as the earth roiled beneath my boots like muscles under skin. When everything eventually settled, the wolf pointed his muzzle towards the pool. In its center was light, formless but changing by the second. First came a broad head, then a barrel chest. Golden fur sprouted into existence. The eyes were closed at first but as skin grew, they opened, revealing vibrant brown pupils. Neither of us needed encouragement. My feet grew wings and I met him by the water’s edge. His form was solid now, and when he threw himself into my outstretched arms, I was knocked onto my back. I buried my face into his fur. How could I have forgotten that it smelled of pine? My tears began anew. Magic’s tongue licked my face so rapidly that what hadn’t been wet with tears was wet with slobber. With a happy whine, Magic hopped off me to spin in energetic circles. I laughed as his tail whacked me in the face. When he stopped to catch his breath, I looked him over. There was no blood, no injury. Even the scars he’d had across the bridge of his nose were gone. Something moved in my inside pocket as I sat up. Magic barked when I pulled out his blue ball and tossed it. He jumped acrobatically and caught it mid-air. Everything felt so natural that for a moment I forgot the reason I had come. Magic froze when he spotted Sirius over my shoulder. The spirit padded over. My staff was clutched in his mouth. He stopped a few feet away and set it down at his paws. His gaze went from me to Magic to the staff and back to me. The offer would be accepted; I only had to speak and make it so. The words were on my tongue. A simple sentence and Magic would be mine again. We could go home and play fetch and romp together through the forest once more. My mouth moved at the same time my eyes landed on Vilkas, the one who had led me here. I realized that I hadn’t seen his spirit rise with the rest. Was it because he had already been here once? Did they not return when they died a second time? Vos came to mind, of how he struggled just to walk. I thought of One-Eye’s sad smile when he said that the fox would have the same fate as the wolf. Magic nuzzled his way under my arm and I drew him into a tight hug. In that moment, I committed everything to memory: the cold ground, the weight of Magic pressing against me, the scent of crushed pine needles, the hot breath that caressed my neck. Sirius stood and waited for my answer. More tears dropped onto Magic’s fur. “I promised that I would always do what’s best for you. You understand, right?” Magic pulled away to lick my cheek. We looked deep into each other’s eyes, and no more words needed to be said. With a protesting heart, I stood and turned toward the spirit. I smiled sadly. “Take good care of him.” The wolf bowed his head in acknowledgement. Once I returned the gesture, he rose and barked for the first time. Magic bounded to his side, standing on his hind legs to lap at the spirit’s muzzle. The wolf allowed it in the way a mother tolerates an annoying pup, but when he eventually tired of the affection, he nudged Magic toward the pool. The dog obeyed. Magic paused at the edge to look at me over his shoulder. “It’s alright,” I said. One day, I hoped I could believe my own words. “Go home.” Magic stepped onto the water. Like Sirius, he didn’t sink but walked on top. With each step his features dissolved, fur turning into mist, eyes fading into nothing, and by the time he reached the middle he was nothing but a blob of white. Sirius barked again and the blob shot toward the heavens. The mountain hollow filled with light. I closed my eyes but it found me there, penetrating the skin of my eyelids until it was all I knew. I found myself on my back in the tall grass. The hollow was dark; the moon was on its descent. There was no trampled grass, no pawprints, no sign that a pack of spirits had been here. Vilkas’s body was gone. My staff lay nearby; the crystal flared orange when I grabbed it. The place felt empty now, the willow tree dark and ominous, the pool a black abyss to the center of the earth. More tears threatened to fall but I forced them back. There had been enough crying. My heart, bruised and battered though it was, was lighter. I took a deep breath and looked up. There was the Dog Star, shining as bright as ever. Of course it would be, with my Magic running around up there. The smile on my face was genuine. I clutched my staff as I turned to go. It was worse for wear, covered in teeth marks and scratches. Perhaps Mother could help me fix the carvings she’d helped me create, another crack in my heart to mend. The toe of my boot scuffed Magic’s blue ball. I left it where it was and as I withdrew from the most sacred of places, I swore I heard a distant bark. |
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