Page 45 of Blacktail

“No,” the Old Kitty Mother agreed, and her cold gaze never wavered. “It would take a beast whose will was strong beyond measure.”

“An idiot might do just as well,” Blacktail said, meeting her stare.

“Yes,” she said. “Perhaps.”

After a moment Blacktail looked away. He pawed at the earth, turned a few times, then lay down. “Let us say that I were to do this thing. I know the ways of rabbits and moose well enough, but there were few gods to be found on my hill. I’ve no doubt I’ll know Him when I see Him, but I’m a little vague on where to start looking.”

“What would you have me tell you?” the Old Kitty Mother asked.

“Well, for starters, what does He smell like? What sort of den might he build? What sort of tracks should I look for?”

The Old Kitty Mother used her tail to brush away this nonsense as well. “It is not like that. The Forest God may sometimes choose to work his will through his creatures or even speak through them, but He is no more a creature than a claw is a wolf.”

“A place, then?” Blacktail asked.

“No, not a place, either, though that is closer to the heart of it. The Forest God is not an easy thing to touch, Blacktail. You could say it is the snake, but it is also the mouse the snake feeds on, and the horse that comes upon the snake, which is bloated and slow, and stomps it. It is the feeding, the stomping. Whenever a creature touches another creature, that is the Forest God. Do you see?”

“I have fed on many creatures, but I have never felt such,” Blacktail said. The Old Kitty Mother gave a small croak. Blacktail thought she sounded amused. Perhaps she was thinking of how best to phrase herself or was laughing at some private joke.

“As I said, the one I speak of has slept since time out of memory. But even in the old age, when the lands were thick with gods, you would not likely have noticed His touch, even if it fell heavy upon you. He has no need of such displays, for we are all the vehicles of His will. Do your eyes feel the pains of your stomach when they chance upon some prey?”

Blacktail thought on it for a time, then wagged his tail. “I think the cats are right to revere you as they do. Your wisdom is plain, even to one as thickheaded as me. I will ponder on what you have said.” He paused. “Tell me, then…what of men? Are they of the Forest God as well?”

The Old Kitty Mother swirled her tail, pleased. “That is an excellent question. Perhaps you are not so dull as you would have us think.” She considered the question. “I am told that they once were, but that was long ago. They were littler then. They’ve never been fast or particularly strong. The only thing they’re truly good at is running—a pack of them can chase pretty much any beast until it drops. Then they’d use sticks or whatnot. But even so, they were withering. They fell prey to the stronger beasts more often than was common. The injustice of it grated on them, I imagine. They were pompous, even then.”

“Then how did they become…?” Blacktail gestured at the lights over the horizon.

“As they are now? Bear in mind that this was a little before my time, but most of the accounts agree. At first they cried out to the Forest God to intervene on their behalf. But the hunt is His design, and it pleases Him. He would not help the two-legs. When He did not respond to their pleas, they turned away from Him. They offered worship to another, one who was not of the hunt. This god taught them a new way of speaking, a new way of looking at the world. This thing, this ‘reason,’ is the heart of their magic. It gave them great power. But in return, their new lord demanded that they forsake the Forest God and make a sacrifice of all that serve Him.” The Old Kitty Mother turned her bright green eyes upon him.

“And of course, this they have done. The blood of the little creatures flows in rivers, Blacktail, and has for generations beyond remembering. If nothing is done, very soon there will be none of us left. Do you see?”

Blacktail regarded her with his hunter’s gaze. Not many could have met such a stare. Even the cougars flinched a bit. But the Old Kitty Mother did not look away. “If I were to take up this quest,” he asked deliberately, “where might I begin?”

The Old Kitty Mother blinked to acknowledge the question, but then fell silent for a long time, looking at something the rest of them could not see. “You should continue south,” she said finally. “You might find the trail of the Forest God in the mountains to the south. The two-legs are not so thick there. But mind you, Blacktail, the journey of it will be very long.”

“I have traveled long already.”

“No. Not like this. If each breath of your journey thus far were a full day’s travel that might be half the distance you have to go.”

“I see.” He rose with a sigh. “Then I suppose I’d best get started.”

“You’ll do it, then?” the Old Kitty Mother asked, trying not to show her eagerness. “You’ll take up the quest?”

“Yes, I will,” he said simply. He turned to the south.

“Blacktail—”

“Yes?”

“You look tired,” she said. “Have you not been sleeping well?”

“No. I have not.”

“Bad dreams?”

He wagged his tail.

“May I ask what you dreamed of?”