Where Frost Meets Fire

22: Sseschni

They came down, and saw Anhilde. She had little room to move, and they tore up the wood, caught her, and dragged her up with them. They made a lot of noise: bellowing and throwing things around. In the chaos, I slipped out one of the openings.

After days in the dim underbelly of the bark, the sudden light and space were overwhelming, but I bolted behind a dead tree at the back of the bark and dashed up it into billowing white sheets.

There were three of these strange trees, and they had Anhilde cornered at the center one. They hemmed her in, a dozen of them, bigger than her, all males of the species.

Anhilde had told me she would not be welcome among them. I thought she meant the natural suspicion of another flock, and perhaps she did, but I saw now that some of them considered her more of a parasite, fit only for exterminating before she spread some infection.

They snarled and roared at her, and at each other. Anhilde cried out replies to them in their grunting language, her voice shaking with distress.

A stubbly-headed one reached toward her. She shrieked, drawing a sharp metal fang from her belt and brandishing it at them.

I had never heard such a sound from her before.

"What are they saying?" I called to her, not allowing the others to hear.

"I don't know, I don't know!" Anhilde cried back, but meaning flickered at the edges of her thoughts.

"They want to court you?" Big as she was to me, I didn't think she was full-grown yet.

Anhilde's reply was an anguished cacophony.

"You do not wish to court them?" I confirmed.

"NO!"

Men at the back of the herd were taking long, sturdy branches from the sides of the bark, preparing to beat her down.

My throat felt hot with anger. 

I made the man who had reached for her my target, lifted my wings and dropped.

I'd had little practice, particularly recently, and unfortunately I missed his eyes and snagged the arch of his ear instead. Still, raking my talons across his stubbly head was very satisfying.

One strike and I was done, soaring back to the clear sky. My mother had taught me the tactic for dealing with larger foes.

I circled the biggest of the dry trees, and returned to savor the damage I had caused.

The flock of humans was in turmoil, abandoning Anhilde and pointing up at the sky with their paws.

"Speak to my fire, Anhilde!" I crowed, not caring if they heard or not.

Anhilde sent back a sign that she understood, but warned, "Be safe! Don't hurt them all! Alone I can't—" and something I didn't catch.

My ember was small, still newborn, so I perched on one of the dead trees to be sure of my aim. 

I released my rage, and fire flashed from my jaws.

In a glorious instant, Anhilde and I were one with fire and wind. Flames shot through the air, a thousand times bigger than even my mother could have made.

A gratifying scream arose from the herd, and when the fire faded—sooner than I had hoped—the men were flailing, extinguishing the sparks on their pelts and beards, and their precious bark.

To my surprise, Anhilde called upon the wind again, and a gust of sea spray rained down on the bark, putting out the worst of the fires.

The shriek gone from her voice, she called out to the men. They fell silent and listened.

Cautiously, I glided back to her and alighted on her shoulder. It was not an ideal spot, but my wings were tired and I felt we were safer together.

One of the men, with the shiniest pelt, stepped forward and raised his paw, and I hissed a warning at him.

"Sseschni, wait! It's alright—I think." Anhilde said to me. She and the man spoke, then the man held out his paw again, and she clasped it with her own. They both seemed satisfied.

"Are you courting him after all?" I grumbled, flicking my tail with impatience.

"No! They want me to raise a wind, that's all. They'll carry us to—" Anhilde said a word that had no meaning, but I gathered it was closer to my aerie.

Closer to home.