Eight: The
Burdens We Carry

            (I heeded
what my mother and Clement told me. The only thing that I could do was keep on
living. Over that summer, I was still isolated all the more, thinking that I
could die tomorrow and nobody would care. I felt like only I cared that Gaston
had been killed. The only thing that I could do to live as if I were to die
tomorrow, was steal. Crime was the only way I and others could manage, though
barely. There were still Sundays when Clement would come home, looking injured
but, for some reason, content.

(So, I kept up with what I did, even though they knew
I still stole, more so when I was out of school. One day, I found myself in the
worst trouble from picking a pocket.

(The clouds covered the sky, but it was the middle of
the day, threatening to rain. My target for stealing was another wolf, whose
clothes looked as shabby as mine. I had taken to wearing what men wear. Not
being able to run in dresses made me hate them. Wearing a work shirt and work
pants, I scurried to this wolf in a dusty-looking business suit. I thought that
I could get away with the crime. I did not just lift the watch on his belt, but
I also picked his left pocket, from which I found a pouch of money.

(The second I turned around with my loot, I heard a
voice shout from right behind me, “OI!" I ran like hell with the loot in my
fists. I barely passed the building we were in front of when I felt a large
hand grab me by the shoulder. I could not run anymore as I was forced to turn
around.

(The wolf, peculiarly looking green, barked, “Thought
you could steal from me, didn't yeh?" He snatched back his watch and then his
money. Fear paralysed me. The wolf added, “Lemme show what happens when yeh
liff the wrong wolf's bits an' bobs."

(Where he took me, managing to hold me with only one
hand, was to where he lived, and he didn't live alone. There were two other
wolves, one of them a female, but wearing no more than a corset and she held a
cane. It was the female who spoke nonchalantly, “Another troublemaker for us."

(The wolf keeping me in place stated, “I thought that
you would like the honour of teaching this one discipline."

(I did not like the way that female wolf looked.
Whoever she was, she could have been far from a mother. I tried keeping my feet
firm with the ground, but to no avail, for I was lifted again, which had me
flail in protest, and still to no avail.

(By the time I was in the other male wolf's arms, I
could not dare find out what being smacked with a cane was like. I ended up
digging my fangs into that wolf's right arm, and he yowled in pain, making him
lose his grip. Then, I started running again. The other two were quick to catch
up with me, I could hear. So, I stopped abruptly in the middle of the road.

(They wouldn't give up. The she-wolf ran my way,
carrying her cane, and I led her along the sidewalk. It all happened so fast.
That she-wolf with the cane reminded me of Gaston's father. I ended up jumping
to her, and I punched her muzzle repeatedly. The she-wolf barked, “Get this
little bitch off me!"

(Before long, the wolf that brought me to his family
caught up as well, grabbing me by my arms, but I heard a gun shoot. The grip
holding me became nothing, and I turned around—

(He had been killed. My saviour was none other than
Clement. Still pointing his gun, he warned, “Let 'er alone, bitch." The
she-wolf ran. Suddenly, I became afraid of my step-father. He approached me,
and stated, “We're going 'ome.")

            I
explore the storage of the sanctuary. It could be an armoury, my share of it,
for that is where I leave souvenirs from my trips. Once I reach my section,
memories are brought back. The oldest one of them comes from a particular sword
in its sheath. Beneath the black coating is a curved guillotine-like blade. The
long hilt has white stripes. I keep that sword on hooks on the wall. In a chest
is my clothes as well as a stack of handkerchiefs. Looking in that chest, I
wonder what other clothes I could use. I consider taking my violet jacket,
which closes completely and has a gold branch-like pattern over the shoulder
and back. I think, I'll get to that
later. I then look at a serrated dagger with an ivory hilt, which I have
taken from a bloodthirsty killer, and it reminds me of a coward, using his men,
cultists, to fend me off. Another treasure that I eye is a silver watch, which
has stopped working from its battery running out. In the centre of the watch
face is a peridot. This is something that I have considered selling off. Though
I despise guns, I keep a bullet, this one Jack has explained to me. It is no
ordinary piece of lead; it is made of iron and nickel alloy in a full metal
jacket. I still do not understand it, but it sounds like something special as the
ammunition has been popular on the black market.

To add to these treasures of the past is a barbed whip
that has tasted blood of its victims. The whole lash has sharp barbs on two
sides that I dare not touch. I place it in the only other container, which has
all these memory sources.

When I turn around, I find a silver cat. Not just any
young cat, but the silver cat with black spots and big emerald eyes, just like
her dear mother. She wears a simple beige dress. “Ghaliya", I whisper.

“'Ana saeid liruyatik maratan
'ukhraa, al'ukht alkubraa", she tells me joyously.

I open my arms and she approaches, leaping up to me, so she can hug
me. She purrs as I hold her, even when I put her back on the ground. I then
reply, “Great to see you, too."

She says, “It was the time Father brought me here." She speaks with
a Symphonian accent like I do, but she has a musical voice like her mother.
“Mother has told me where your journey has taken you now."

Eyeing her gold pendant with an emerald, her locket, reminds me of
my loyalty to her. I comment, “I still bring money fer the sanctuary,
collecting funds by any means." She cannot possibly understand this. She is
only twelve years old. She is all too familiar with crime, poverty, diseases,
and death, but she cannot understand what this journey of mine means.

“You do what you need to", she replies. Ghaliya is a kind cat, but
she can be too sweet. Maybe she just reminds me too much of her mother. Ghaliya
continues, “I know that you obtain your money from killing bad people."

I add, “And now by turning wanted criminals to the police. I still
need getting used to that."

I follow Ghaliya out to the field and to where other cubs and pups
play. As we watch the few of them tussle, race, or just waffle on whatever, she
states, “I know how this country works, Big Sister. I know the conditions of
Highcond: the pollution, the wars of the classes, and the corruption. I have
believed you to be a solution since I have known you." Even now, I find it hard
to believe that the High Priestess had her daughter after years of running the
sanctuary and leading her own sect.

I object, “But I am no god. I am not supernatural."

Ghaliya rebuts, “And yet I still see you as gifted, like Mother
does." I cannot fault that. The High Priestess taught me to love again after I
convinced myself that I lost it. I know that my journey is not only about me.
And I am thankful that Ghaliya reminds me such. I place a hand on her shoulder
as she is perched on the fence, and I rub her back, which prompts her to purr
again.

-----

            My recent failure
still leaves me sorrowful. I considered calling Jack, to ask him what he knew
of the Terrecon house, but I think that I should not be informed. It will only make me
feel worse. Instead, I consider something else about David's letter, but that
is to wait. I spend time recuperating in the sanctuary while connecting with
Ghaliya as I know which targets I will pursue.

On my fourth and final day before my departure for Solmil, I have
Ghaliya and the other cubs together, so I can tell them of a story of my
favourite god from lore. Ghaliya, like the rest, leans forward with excitement
as I speak:

“Kumhep has been revered as the judge of the souls. Every soul of
those who die is in a void between the mortal realm and the realm of the dead
before the heart is weighed with a feather, to determine the purity or impurity
of the soul. Kumhep has carried out this duty, passing judgment upon the souls
before allowing them to pass to the afterlife. Only he knows what is to happen
to the soul before it happens.

“After year of being the judge of the souls, Kumhep becomes curious
of what has become of the kingdom that he knows in the mortal realm. So, he
creates a portal that he passes, bringing him instantly to a desert at night. Where he heads by foot is
eastward, where he finds a fair civilisation.

“Kumhep watches the sun rise by the time he
enters the village. In looking around, being reminded of his past, he realises
how much he misses the pleasures of mortals. It is from watching the villagers
go about their business he also realises how he stands out, having a completely
black pelt and ice-blue eyes. Even the jackal that he is, is taller than
average.

“Because of what he has been before, he
heads to the vegetation of the oasis near the village, a safe haven for
vagabond merchants. He observes the farm tasks of a family, tending to a vast
herd of goats and even vaster vine field of grapes. He sees that this pair of
mates and their siblings get along well during their tasks while their children
played.

“After a while of watching them from afar,
he heads back in the village, where the small markets bustle, and he listens to
talk about the vast farm, and the same question echoes from all: how can they
still be in one of the smallest oases from having a vast livestock? Kumhep
wanted to know the answer himself. Among the items bought by the oldest member
of the family from that farm in the afternoon, Kumhep saw that man carrying a
large and heavy jug of beer.

“To make himself come off as a beaten
traveller, he hid away his belt with Khopesh and his shroud. Clad in only his
loincloth, he headed to an inn, where he selected the most bloodthirsty brute
and engaged him. The leopard that he fights is indeed tough. Though Kumhep
could break an entire arm in one pull, he lets the brute win. Kumhep then heads
to the farm, claiming to the lady of the house that he has nowhere to go, that
he was assaulted and robbed by bandits. The lady of the house lets Kumhep in
with open arms, and they have food to spare for Kumhep.

“Over a family dinner, Kumhep learns how
hard the man and lady of the house, and their six siblings work hard to feed
others, but even with what good amount of gold they have earned, they have not
enough to take their business to a city, to Kumhep's suspicion. The four
children of the house heads tend to Kumhep, and in the process, explain to him
about sharing the dream of being in the city and carrying on a legacy, but
their large amounts of earnings seem to disappear.

“For the time of Kumhep's stay, he snoops
on the man of the house, who he sees goes out late, and sees him offer gold and
beer to travelling bandits. Shortly after watching that horrible scene, Kumhep
goes to retrieve his shroud, belt, and Khopesh. However, he still wears only
his loincloth on the next day, which he declares to the family is his last.

“Late that same night, he learns of the
same bandits that he saw, setting a market on fire and slaughtering families.
Kumhep reminds himself of his duties, but he slays the bandits. After his
action, Kumhep summons the man of the house, to the rocks near the water of the
oasis, and the man heeds the call. It is then that he is recognised as the lord
of the dead. Kumhep interrogates the man of the house what business he had with
the bandits, and attacks him when hearing a lie. The pain is so unbearable that
he confesses immediately. The man of the house has been using his family all
along. He was once a bandit. After falling for his wife and reuniting with his
family, he has been using the family farm to fund the misdeeds of the bandits.
Kumhep says to the man of the house, 'You sold your soul long ago. Your heart
is so heavy with sin that it is irredeemable.' He summons his golden Ankh and
it barely touches the man's head when he cries out in pain. Kumhep stabs him
with his Khopesh, so he can claim what is left of his soul.

“Kumhep knows that he did justice, but he
realises that… he cannot save every innocent, or slay every black heart. He
resumes his duty, judging every soul fairly."

The cubs take the story in with sadness and
with anger, but are very quick to clamour about what happens next. They want to
know the next story about my favourite character of the lore. Ghaliya reasons,
“We have already listened to one story tonight and it is late now."

“Pray that my next return is soon", I
speak. “For I intend to speak the story of Kumhep protecting the land of the
dead."

Ghaliya replies cheerfully, “I hope to be
here then."

There are still cubs claiming that they are
not sleepy yet. So, I announce, “You cannot afford to stay awake so late. Your
body cannot take it. Believe me, I know." Ghaliya reasons as well, and they all
eventually settle in their beds. Only now, I realise that these cubs sleeping
in this kind of construct depresses me. They are all orphans, but I know not
whether any of these cubs have seen the inside of a house or have been
fortunate enough to remember their parents.

Upon exiting the cabin where the cubs
sleep, I find Themba awaiting me, and he is shirtless despite the nip in the
air. He comments, “You always had a way with cubs."

I reply, “I just happen to have bigger
growth spurts than cats. I do not understand, though, why the large felines
revered me."

As we walk together to the cabin for
security and agents, he responds, “You always had a quality; dat's all. After
oll, I share your belief of wolf having… off-colour eyes to be special in some
way."

I state, “Everyone is special in their own
way. Every parent thinks that a child is special simply for them being theirs."

“True." Themba nods. “It just takes
perspective."

We enter his cabin when I tell him,
“Themba, you were always special to me for your pattern."

“You may still find other special animals
along your journey." That is true. I nod quietly as I head to the bed where my
luggage is and I undress, preparing for the night.

-----

            (“You
still fail to understand the rule: do not attract unwanted attention!" my
mother scolded. “You could have died today. You could have been defiled." My
mother was both angry and afraid, being informed by Clement of my escapade. “I
have tried reasoning with you for so long, and yet you still do not heed the
warning." She paced around the kitchen, Clement trying now to calm her. I could
have sworn that I heard her heart racing. When she seemed to regain her
composure, she peered to me. “I cannot let you get in trouble", she said.
“Understand that you are all I have. You are forbidden to leave this house
tomorrow." It was all for the best. I was actually afraid to run into another
dangerous criminal.

(There was a major damper on things over
dinner. I did not dare speak to even my mother. She and Clement did not engage
in conversation between themselves either. However, it was when turning in, I
snapped. I sobbed softly in my ragged pillow that night, fearing encountering
another wolf such as him. It only made me wonder horrible things about Clement,
to boot.)

            I
examine the picture that I have been keeping, which has been folded twice, and
I notice it having faded a little more. I just cannot part with it. This is all
I have left to remember my old life, the first wolf to ever love me. That is
how I pass much of my time on the train ride to my next destination: the
Artists' Land. Solmil.

“Lauren and Rhonda Tirrell. Wild Rabbits.
Stage performers. Their profession is in theatre, where they have been lucky
enough to demonstrate their talent of acting and dancing. They are as close any
pair of sisters. They also take to the streets, and are known all the more for
their habit of bragging. Giffard's friends have them as contacts, tricking
people into taking contracts for money they will never see and are the heart of
his cartel's trafficking network. You can find them performing at Solmil East
Theatre. Name a play shown there; they have very likely been in it."

I take Jack's word for it, having read his note
several times prior. I am quick to find an inn to my standards after exiting
the train station. Shortly after getting settled in a nice inn, which has been
made completely of bricks, the rooms having wooden boards and vine-patterned
wallpaper to cover the walls, I am too restless to take in the rest of the
room. I am fortunate to have found this inn. Everything else around it seems to
have more flaws than just a few chips or cracks. I begin my exploration—

When I feel a hand graze me and lift off. I
dig into my side pocket of my slacks, to realise that I have been robbed. I
turn around, finding a rabbit running. I shout, “OI!" I run after the young
rabbit, adding, “Gimme back me money!" I continue sprinting, seeming to catch
up with the young rabbit, only for her to make a sharp turn. I end up climbing
a keg and leaping from beams of the walls of a few constructs to keep up with
her. Eventually—

I stop in my tracks, my hand upon her
shoulder, tightly. I tell the rabbit, “You stole my money. Give it back." I
still have my grip on her as I watch her lift the pouch from under the top of
her dress and present it. With my free hand, I take the pouch. I then release
her. An instant later, the rabbit turns around. Her pelt seems to completely be
completely golden-brown, her eyes dark brown. She wears a maroon dress with
black buttons down its top.

She says, “My apologies, Ma'am. I thought
it was the only way to get your attention."

I follow the rabbit as I reply, “I wouldn't
'ave gained attention of others by calling fer you, but 'twas instinct."

We stop in an opening in a line of
buildings. I fold my arms as she tells me, “I was sent ta this borough to
contact you. I'm Leigh-Anne Burgess. I work for Mister Dolan."

She is not quite free of my judgment. “Now
why would that dog send a young'un?" I query.

“I know many other rabbits and young'uns
who work for 'im. I lead 'is spy network."

I look down sternly, my visible left eye
standing out in the darkness like a flame. “Words are not always enough,
kitten. Cubs can say anything and whether 'tis to be believed only seems up to
other cubs."

“It is true!" she snapped. “Mister Dolan
ordered me to follow you to the train station back in Ashcrown. He told me to
expect you here in Solmil as he told me that you next sought the Tirrell
sisters."

“And what proof have you that the Tirrell
sisters have not ordered you to use me?"

She squealed, “Because I despise them!" She
paused to take a breath. “I am not the only rabbit from a large family. I am
from my parents' first litter; there were seven of us. My parents fell for the
most common lie: taking me under the roof of the Tirrell family. They put me to
work along with other kittens, who they were close to breaking if they hadn't
already… Mister Dolan… raided the workshop where we had the tedious task of shelling
bullets… and I was among the many that 'is men saved…" Her eyes well up as she
adds, “And he offered me a better life… I did not believe 'im at first, but I
knew 'twould be better than life in the slums, starving like my siblings, and
better than building weapons…" She holds a hand to her nose upon finishing.

I place a hand on her shoulder and say,
“Now I must apologise fer not trustin' yeh."

She takes a deep breath and lowers her arm
before answering, “Apology accepted, Ma'am." She continues, “I waited four days
for you. Now that you have come, we kin settle this business."

I follow her along the streets of
flat-roofed stone buildings along with houses of planks and shingles, its
inhabitants having tried too hard to make those houses colourful as paint has
been splattered on the walls. All these inhabitants are dressed fairly, and
here I am in a business suit, unlike all the other females wearing dresses.

Where the rabbit named Leigh-Anne guides me
is to a construct that is supposedly desolate, but it clearly has smoke coming
out of the one chimney in the flat roof. Upon entering, I see that it looks a
lot better inside, for the stone walls have been smoothed and the wooden floor
is clean. The rabbit speaks, “'Tis nothing like me spy headquarters in Ashcrown,
but this hideout 'as bin made 'ome to other kittens on the streets."

“It is brilliant", I comment. My sight
following Leigh-Anne, I speak, “Before I pursue the Tirrell sisters, I plan to
fulfil bounty 'unts. All con artists, based on crimes for which they are
wanted."

Leigh-Anne turns around, to say cheerily,
“All the more 'elp, Ma'am. The Artists' Land is practically an 'aven fer all
the con artists and 'usslers." She reproaches me, to inform me, “You should
still stay alert; even me friends know that those deceptive, beastly buggers
'ave mercenaries fer protection."

“Do the con artists not put up a fight?" I
query.

“Only if their opponent is an old man
needing a cane", she snorts. I hear a tapping on the window behind me.

I tell Leigh-Anne, “Contact me when you've
suggestions on where to be for the Tirrell sisters."

She answers, “I'll 'ave me spies keep in
touch."

I head out of the hideout, and upon closing
the door behind me, my raven friend greets me, and I have my arm up the second
I hear his wings flap. I just stand there, stroking the raven's head with one
finger. I can assure him that he will not leave here without tasting meat of a
criminal here.