The Middle Temperocene: 150 million years + 1000 years post-establishment
Odd One Outlander: Threestripe's Turn
Streaks of fire. Screams of rage, and fear and pain. The scent of blood.
This was all that surrounded her.
For twenty seasons, this had been her life. Child of the second mate Wildwind. Raised to uphold the will of the Half-Spirit. Her father, whom she feared and barely knew. Ashfall, the Fire-Thief.
Today was just another such day.
From all sides, the Outlanders' armies laid siege to a pack of hill-folk, who had settled into the valleys for the night, for they defended something vital: a herd of horn-herders, grazer-beasts that they raised, protected and fed upon. Grown fat and docile under the care of their shepherds.
But the Outlanders were hungry.
And now Ashfall's forces were larger, and hungrier, than ever before.
Now their ranks were inflated with moouk: hunt-beasts much like persons, but not quite. Simple-minded savages who were whipped into dominance by the Outlanders, until all they knew was fear and compliance to those that dominated them. Simple-minded savages born and raised to be weapons, to be wielded by their masters as one might wield a wood-tooth.
Simple-minded savages whose lives mattered less.
It was not the first time the hill-pack of the herders had faced the Outlanders. Indeed, their numbers had grown too. Once, the hill-packs, the valley-folk, and all the herders were former foes themselves.
But now the enemies of their greatest enemy was their friend.
Yelps of pain rung out in the ruddy skies of Beta-twilight, as the clubs and staffs of the herders struck against their assailants. A few yelped, the strike finding a mark, and down they fell to be forever silent.
But they were moouk, and their lives mattered not.
But they were moouk, and they were plenty.
Ashfall, bearing the brand of flame, urged them onward, Wildwind following close behind, barking out commands. At the front, Goldeye, one of Ashfall's fiercest fighters, rushed ahead with a small squad of moouk at his command, cutting off the escape of the hill-pack trying to flee with their precious cattle.
Amidst the chaos of clashing teeth, flying fur, and the primal cries of both the moouk and their desperate quarry, Threestripe gazed back with frightened eyes.
Before her, a hill-folk shepherd fell screaming, but a short distance from her, pounced upon by several moouk, three, then four, tearing at his flesh with their teeth. As he made one desperate struggle, his bloodied face turned to face Threestripe's.
And for a second, their eyes met.
Threestripe saw nothing but grief, fear in those eyes, in the brief moment before he was buried under a pile of moouk, never to be seen breathing again.
Were these the Thems who were enemy?
Were these who must die for the Firethieves?
In that moment, something snapped within Threestripe. A fear, and rage, and confusion that had boiled within her for twenty seasons.
And, in he midst of the chaos, of howling moouk and the commanding calls of Ashfall, Wildwind, and Goldeye, the leaders of the attackers barely noticed the sudden departure of one small Outlander who had finally had enough.
Dawn came, as the yellow-sun and its bright rays joined the faint red-sun that had held lone vigil in the sky all the while. But they would not shine for long, for dark clouds had begun to gather.
Threestripe barely noticed the passage of time.
She had been running for as long and as far as her tired paws could carry her. Until the smell of blood and smoke dwindled away. Until the horrible, unbearable cries and screams faded away into the distance. Anything to get away.
She wanted no part in it.
A faint rumble from the sky interrupted her thoughts, as the sky began to pour.
A flash flickered from above, and she bitterly recalled the tales of the Outlanders, about how the sky-light granted them fire. All she knew was that the sky-light's gift brought her only grief. First with fire, and now, with water.
She wandered onward, without any direction. Tired, and cold, and wet, and hungry, she pressed on, away from what she had known, and toward an uncertain future.
"Two seasons now, no come", Sharpstripe noted, returning from her patrol of the edge of their territory. The packs she had come to call her own.
"Why ask now?" Narooo-a asked, emerging from a nearby den within the cove they now called home. "You worry much."
"Rain-times come now," Star-Watcher added, him and a few others of his pack huddled under an rock outcrop, where their fire for warmth was shielded from rain. "Outlanders fight with fire. No use for fire now."
"Never too sure," Sharpstripe sighed. Today was a precarious time.
Her two youngest pups, Dawn-Light and Twoblue, were growing fast, already out and exploring at six seasons old. Narooo-a and several other members, mostly older females, of her pack kept a watchful eye over the pups when Sharpstripe could not, but curious and playful, the youngpups were. Trouble was not impossible.
Beneath a grey sky, cast with clouds, Sharpstripe caught a glimpse of movement in the distance.
Perhaps a hunt-beast that came to find food? No, the shape was not quite right.
It appeared to be a lone older-pup, stumbling along the mountain path, toward the coast. From its movements it seemed tired, and weak.
She knew not to judge, for once she feared Narooo-a and Star-Watcher, now her close friends. But one could never be too sure.
"I go look. Wait.", she called out to Narooo-a, grabbing her wood-tooth in her jaws.
"Where going?" Narooo-a urged. "I come with you."
As Sharpstripe approached the newcomer, she got a good look through the haze of the rainy mist, and she felt her heart sink upon the realization.
The stripes were unmistakable. The colors were that of their foes. An enemy who would not be tolerated.
Without hesitation Sharpstripe rushed forward and gave chase. She had a family to defend. Pups to protect. She brandished her wood-tooth, and pursued the intruder.
"Wait!" Narooo-a called from behind. "Call help?"
"Just one." Sharpstripe called back.
The intruder fled for dear life, but despite their efforts to evade their pursuer, Sharpstripe proved stronger and more enduring. She quickly caught up and lunged at the Outlander, who dodged her attack, only to stumble and fall. Sharpstripe quickly pinned the lone trespasser onto a rock with her forepaws, eyeing the newcomer. It was not like them to come alone.
She could tell from the scent it was a young female, and definitely had the foul whiff of the enemy. She looked strange, too, a white stripe running down her face, dividing the black stripe that marked the Outlanders.
A child of the Skull-Face, perhaps even.
"WHY DO YOU COME?" she snarled, but all that came was a frightened whimper.
"WHY DO YOU COME!?" she demanded again, the sharp end of the wood-tooth pointed at the throat of the young Outlander, ready to pierce her and run her through if she tried anything...
"SHARPSTRIPE!" barked Narooo-a, with a fierceness atypical of the normally-calm plainsfolk. "Stand...down."
"Outlander..." hissed Sharpstripe through gritted teeth, gripping her wood-tooth tighter.
But it was clear to Narooo-a this pup posed no threat. She seemed tired, and weak, and somewhat thin.
"Not dangerous," Narooo-a sternly reassured Sharpstripe, gently yet firmly pushing her away from the young pup, who fell to the sandy ground, backed into a corner, and curled up, trembling and whimpering feebly.
"Not harm. Who you?" Narooo-a asked.
Narooo-a, in her many travels, knew many different tongues. But the Outlanders were a dreaded folk, and rarely spoke to their enemies except in threatening warnings.
"...Outlander. Fire-Thief..." whined the trespasser, fearfully.
"She ADMITS it!" growled Sharpstripe. "She is sent here as scout!"
"Patience, Sharpstripe!" Narooo-a insisted, intent on resolving a situation as peacefully as she possibly could. "Perhaps she has no other words for us to say."
The young Outlander cried in a pleading tone, but all Narooo-a and Sharpstripe heard were foreign words, as if to prove their point.
She was cold and wet and whimpering, and she seemed weak and hungry.
"She is but child in need of help," Narooo-a explained. "Outlander or not."
Sharpstripe's heart softened a bit, after pausing to note the state of the intruder, yet she remained wary.
"You sure good idea?" Sharpstripe asked. If this was just a youngster in need of aid, then so be it. Yet she could not shake the possibility this could be a trap.
"Come," Narooo-a urged, with a gesture of her head and tail, and the young Outlander seemed to understand, gingerly stepping forward with obvious reluctance, as Narooo-a encouraged her on.
"Come. We have warmth and food for you."
For a moment, Threestripe was sure she was going to die.
The old female sea-folk was one she remembered from that night. The one from the Great Defeat, the loss of a battle all Outlanders knew but none, not even Ashfall, dared to speak out loud.
The Thems did not forget, and the Thems did not forgive.
Yet now, a plains-folk had stopped her attacker and was showing her...mercy?
Threestripe was afraid. She was taught that the Thems were tricksters, liars, and this was perhaps a trap.
But having traveled long, and eaten none, for days by now, she was desperate enough to risk it.
The plainsfolk seemed friendly. She was pointing her snout to a cove where a fire faintly glowed.
Did she just seem friendly?
Threestripe was too hungry and cold to care.
"Outlander pup, this one?" Star-Watcher pondered, watching Narooo-a's new companion ravenously devouring a piece of grazer-beast meat Narooo-a had offered her.
"Yes. She is not threat," Narooo-a reassured. She turned to Threestripe. "Go on, eat more," she encouraged. "Plenty food here."
"Hope she not threat," Sharpstripe added. This one certainly was not. But what about if there were more?
Sharpstripe picked up her wood-tooth and headed back out to the coast to keep watch.
Even if there was a good Outlander, even one...what about the others?
It did not take long for Threestripe to become a curiosity to the other pups of the cove. Some nudged her curiously, others playfully sniffed at her while she lay next to the warm fire, recovering from her ordeal.
Some parents reacted much as Sharpstripe did, warning their pups away from the Outlander. Others were more open and welcoming.
"Stay away from Outlander," mumbled one plainmane mother to her pup.
"Leave alone, she is small alone pup only," urged another plainmane in rebuke.
Into the cove came bounding Dawn-Light and Twoblue, playfully chattering and chirping to each other. The two young pups paused in their tracks when they saw a strange new figure lying beside the fire.
Twoblue gave a playful nip at her tail.
"Go away," sleepily mumbled Threestripe, in the Outlanders' tongue.
"Go...away?" repeated Dawn-Light, ears perking up at the strange new word.
"Away, away!" jeered Twoblue. "Go away, away!" prancing around in circles.
At the sight of this, Naroo-a had a revelation.
"Come tonight to den," she urged. "Elders must talk."
That evening, as Strange-Eyes and Switch-Eyes returned from a hunt, Narooo-a gathered the elders, of the sea-folk, plains-folk and snow-folk, over to her den to commune over something important.
"Let Outlander...stay?" Strange-Eyes asked.
"You are serious?" Switch-Eyes exclaimed.
"Listen. Must listen." Narooo-a urged in the growing unrest. "The pups learn her tongue."
The gathered crowd grew quiet.
"Pups...speak Outlander?" asked a snow-folk elder, almost in disgust at the thought.
"Exactly," Narooo-a confirmed.
"We plainsfolk travel much. Learn many tongues. Meet many people. We meet you. First hard, but speak...then trust. Now we are together."
"That true," Sharpstripe agreed, somewhat ashamed. She had once mistrusted them too.
"We teach her our tongue," Narooo-a suggested. "Then she teach us speak hers. We can speak. Speaking tongue bring together."
"Are you suggesting...we speak to Outlanders?" Star-Watcher asked.
Narooo-a stamped her paw into the ground. "We have one chance for peace."
"If we always fight, how many more hurt? How many more die? What if we can ask what they want?" she added.
"What if they not listen?" Strange-Eyes asked. He thought back to his father, Pale-Beard. "They...HATE us."
"Then we can make deal," Narooo-a offered. "Call truce. Make them go away. We can...." she paused, trying to find an appropriate word in her many dialects...
"...negotiate. Yes. That is word."
Days passed, and then weeks.
As time went on, Threestripe felt more and more like just another member of the pack.
Even Sharpstripe, hard of heart, had come to see her in a different light. She was an Outlander, yes, but...different. Not like the others, violent and savage. She was accepting, and eager to learn.
"Water-swimmer," Sharpstripe pointed out, as she and Threestripe went fishing together.
"Water-swimmer," repeated Threestripe, regarding the small shrish Sharpstripe had speared with her wood-tooth. "Hwrripirrrip", she chirped in reply, the same word in the Outlander dialect.
"Hwrripirrrip..." pondered Sharpstripe. Deep down, a part of her felt apalled at learning the language of those who had hurt her people.
Yet at the same time, she resolved not to be like them.
And young Threestripe, eagerly splashing in the shallows, was not one of them.
When the time came that Threestripe had learned enough of their dialect, Narooo-a brought her aside to talk.
"May I ask question?" she queried the young Outlander.
"What ask question?" Threestripe replied. Her voice was stilted, her grammar and pronunciations imperfect, but she was learned enough to converse.
"What do Outlanders want?" Narooo-a asked.
Threestripe's ears folded down sadly, as her tail drooped down.
"Hate father. Hate Outlanders. Always fight hurt kill everyone. Us and Them. Everyone enemy. Not true. Know now."
"You hate...family?" Narooo-a asked, gently.
"They...not family. They THEMS now. You now Us," she said, pressing herself close to Narooo-a.
With her, and Star-Watcher, and even Sharpstripe and Strange-Eyes, Threestripe felt something that she never did before.
She saw, in their ways, a kindness, a peace, that was absent in the ways of the Outlander. They protected their own, and stood together as comrades. But they were not a family, at least to her.
And their fire! It was, to say, a tame fire. A fire that kept them warm. A fire that lit their dark night, and kept the wild beasts away.
A gift from the heavens that was used for peace, not war. To serve life, not bring death.
Narooo-a gave a bemused trill. "You say you are not Outlander, yes?"
"So why call our pack Us, the Outlanders Them?" she explained. "Threestripe must learn not to think in Us and Thems. Is that what Outlanders teach?"
Threestripe lay down and buried her face in her paws.
"Teach us Thems take land, take food, leave nothing. Nothing for Outlanders. Outlanders fight Thems. Thems take all. Outlanders hungry. Outlanders take all. Not Thems. Outlanders."
Narooo-a felt a deep sadness for the poor, broken youngster, barely out of puphood.
"Them want not peace. Cannot be peace. Hate them. All want is war and fight."
"Because. How things are."
With a sigh, Narooo-a gently gave a reassuring nuzzle to Threestripe. She had adapted well, but there were many things yet left for her to learn.
"Away away go!" Twoblue chanted playfully in the Outlander dialect, as he and his sister Dawn-Light invited Threestripe for a chase. "Go away!"
"Not away but to here. Go away and come back," Threestripe corrected.
"You come to like them," said Sunbeam, one of Sharpstripe's middle pups. "Grows close in time."
"Like new family?" Threestripe added, dashing across the sand with the two younger pups following close after.
Threestripe chirped joyfully as she played chase with the youngest pups. She had felt something she had not in a long time.
The pups of the Outlanders too loved to run and play, and their packs cared for them dearly. But there came a time in every young Outlander's life when they were faced with the harsh truth, that the world was unkind, and the Thems were unkind, and they had to fight others, the Thems, to survive.
There was nothing unkind about this new world.
"Come come come!" Narooo-a called from the cove. "Strange-Eyes, Sharpstripe bring home hunt. Time to eat."
"Time to eat!" squealed Twoblue and Dawn-Light, excitedly running back to the cove, with Sunbeam and Threestripe racing them all the way back.
But not all hearts were unhardened.
Away, from a distance, watched Shade, another of Sharpstripe's middle pups.
She had always been the fiercest, and the most combative of the pups, with only Pale-Beard, her late grandfather, being able to temper her attitude.
But now there was no Pale-Beard. And she knew who to blame.
"Come," called her brother Brushtail. "Father and Mother bring food now."
"Not hungry," Shade grumbled.
The thought of that Outlander, that murderer and monster, living among them, was abhorrent to her.
But the elders had spoken. Even her mother had gone soft on the invader.
How could they be so blind? This was one of those who had attacked them! This was one of those who had destroyed their world!
Beneath the blood-red light of the red-sun's twilight, she headed upon a grassy hill, beneath the shade of a gnarled tree, where all that remained of Pale-Beard stood in testament to his loss, driven into the ground: his old wood-tooth, bearing a tuft of his fur attached to a sticky resin.
An old tradition to remember the departed.
She sniffed the old staff, still bearing, after all these seasons, the faintest hints of the familiar scent. Still enduring, like Pale-Beard's memory.
"You once say you would be everywhere," she lamented. "But now you are nowhere."
They had always turned to him, his wisdom, for guidance. But now there was no one to turn to.
And whose fault was it exactly?
"Them. They made you nowhere."
"And soon they...they will be...nothing."
