Rain-Born waited in the darkness, eyes trained on the canyon floor that stretched before the mouth of her cave. The voices were getting nearer. Louder. But they spoke in Guthra tongue – their guttural, shrill language fit only for mongrels. She only recognized the agitation in their incessant barking. And there was something else. Something rattled against the ground. A charm, perhaps? Did they have a Shaman with them? If so, her quest would surely end prematurely. Rain-Born knew she could not hide from a Shaman's evil gaze. She crept forward, raising her bow, and nocked an arrow. A warrior's death was preferable to being destroyed by a Shaman's curse.
She saw them then in the middle of the canyon floor. Two. Both shouted something at the other. And there was something with them. A small four-legged creature, bound in rope, its mouth a massive maw of metal. Its skin was chalk white, starkly contrasting to the sunburned, dirt-caked Guthra that held it. Rain-Born recognized it as their captive when one of them struck its face with a balled fist, prompting it to fall to the ground before being ordered to rise and hobble after its masters. Such brutality inflicted on the creatures of the land was everyday practice for the Guthra, Rain-Born knew. Even so, she was enraged at seeing the pitiful beast beaten.
The party walked on, passed her cave, not seeing the huntress crouched within, and Rain-Born considered that, after all, she could merely allow them to pass by. With the luck of the Great Spirit on her side, she had made it to the edge of the canyon now. The marshes waited.
She fired her arrow.
She did not quite know what prompted her attack, for though hidden, she was outnumbered, and this time her aim faltered. Her target was struck in his tattooed chest, and he fell, clutching the arrow shaft and shouting at his friend. He pointed with ferocity at the cave. Directly at Rain-Born.
She nocked another arrow and loosed it just in time – for the second, Guthra was already running to the cave mouth with the speed of a hunter possessed, bellowing his ferocious battle cry and brandishing a gleaming cleaver thick with dried blood. Her arrow found his arm, and at once, he dropped his weapon but not his speed and in a moment later, he had made it to the cave and had pinned Rain-Born to the hard ground with his weight. Her bow skidded across the cave floor, and she immediately tried to grab her knife from her pack, but the Guthra held her arm with his good hand and used the other, still with an arrow lodged in its elbow, to grab a rock from the ground and bring it down on her face. He succeeded once, smashing it across Rain-Born's brow and drawing blood that splattered across the ground. She held up a hand to block his relentless attacks and weathered blow after blow as the rock came down on her till her hand was nothing more than a beaten, bloody pulp. Finally, she let it drop and saw the grizzled face of the Guthra, his teeth bared in a vicious smile, ready to deliver the killing blow.
He screamed – an animalistic and guttural sound - and fell beside her. Then teeth gleamed in the cave's darkness and found the Guthra's throat. They clenched down on the flesh of his unprotected neck, and the crimson liquid that was his life ran down their jagged edges. The Guthra struggled and convulsed, trying in vain to grab a chunk of the creature on top of him with his good hand. Then he gave a sudden jerk, twitched slightly, and his hand fell to the floor. Finally, his body stopped moving as his soul returned to the evil spirit that had brought it into this world.
Rain-Born stood, staggered slightly, and fell beside the cave wall. She avoided the creature before her; its fangs were an image of red death. It was a dog, she now realized, not some spiritual protector of the canyon as she had first thought. Though now the metal maw that had encased the beast's snout was removed, revealing a face that was long and irregular – almost cone-shaped, with ears that pointed up as though always listening. It rose from its fallen prey and fixed Rain-Born with its two beady eyes.
Then its mouth began to move.
"Thanks, Chief!" it said.
She merely stared, wide-eyed, hoping this spirit-possessed being would allow her passage as a token for assisting it in its escape.
It cocked its head at her. "Can you understand me, Chief?" it asked, in a voice unlike any Rain-Born had heard words spoken in. "Thanks for the assist there. Those lads were going to eat me."
"What are you?" Rain-Born asked the creature, for it was not every day that one of the tribes was able to converse with a spirit.
"Fair question," it said. "As I understand it, I'm something that was called a "bull terrier." You don't see much of me around anymore. And I've looked, believe me."
It sat and scratched its right ear with its foot in an unusual gesture that gave Rain-Born pause.
"What manner of spirit are you?" She asked. "Are you good or evil?"
It made a snort that approached a human chuckle.
"How can I answer that? You'll shoot me with your bow if I say I'm evil, right? And if I say I'm good, that sounds like something an evil spirit would say, doesn't it? So how about we just use our names? You can call me Jespar. And you are?"
She eyed him warily, her eyes narrowed to slits like an animal suspicious of kindness. "Rain-Born," she said reluctantly.
He nodded at that as if he had accepted it. "Well, that hand doesn't look so pretty. Wait here a minute. I'll take care of it."
He wandered outside the cave, presumably to fetch something from the Guthra felled by the arrow.
Rain-Born observed the dead tribal on the ground before her, fresh blood still pumping from the puncture wounds the dog's teeth had made in his throat. She looked outside and caught sight of Jespar rummaging about inside a deerskin pack much like her own. She looked closer to confirm her suspicions.
Laying in a pool of blood baking in the hanging sun, the other Guthra was quite dead. Beside him sat the dog's metal mask.
...
Rain-Born sat in awe, her eyes transfixed, as Jespar performed the entire operation of bandaging her bloody hand and applying some ointment, the Guthra had carried with them to the wound. He did so using only his long mouth with occasional help from his front paws.
"You are a healer," she stated.
Jespar chuckled in his non-human snort. "Not quite as fancy as that, but I know how disinfectants and bandages work."
"You are a healer," Rain-Born said again, and this time knelt in front of the dog and touched her tribal tattoos. "I thank you for your aid, good spirit. I must now continue on my journey."
At first, he didn't say anything. He merely sat and watched Rain-Born gather her bow, her pack, and any remaining supplies she could from the two dead Guthra. He saw her admire and then pocket the gleaming red stone that had been such a marker of pride for the Guthra that he killed. He had no idea what value these Tribals saw in their rocks and sticks. But still, he waited. Watching her.
"Hold up, Chief. Uh, I mean, Rain-Born," he said as she was about to leave the cave. "What is it you're doing out here by yourself? Your tribe kick you out or something?"
"I am sworn not to tell a single soul that wanders in the wastes," Rain-Born replied.
"I get it. You're a Tribal on a quest, eh? Well, can you tell me where you're going?"
Rain-Born thought about this. Father-Mother had not forbidden her from revealing her destination. And the spirit had been helpful to her thus far. She still felt she owed it a debt.
"I seek the Iron Forest," she said.
"The iron...Ah! You don't mean the Dead City, do you?"
The dog seemed excited all of a sudden. But Rain-Born did not understand the name of this place.
"You know," Jespar nodded, wagging his tail. "Uh...big tall steel buildings that go right up to the sky. I suppose it makes sense that you Tribals would call it the Iron Forest."
Rain-Born nodded. "This sounds like the Iron Forest."
"Then, by a happy coincidence, we're heading in the same direction. How about you let me tag along with you, huh? It's not an easy journey. Hell, I thought I'd already failed. Maybe together we could make it?"
Rain-Born paused at the cave mouth and regarded the creature. His speech was eloquent, and his fighter prowess could be handy. She looked down at her bandaged hand and noted the red stains that had seeped through the bandaging. She was weaker now. But perhaps the Great One had sent her this healing spirit as a guide after all. Her saving of the beast was a sign that her quest was righteous.
"I accept your offer, spirit. Let us make our pact in blood."
"Woah woah woah there!" Jespar howled, halting Rain-Born before she could scar a piece of herself with her hunting knife as per tradition. "There's no need for that. Let's just say we made a verbal agreement and leave it at that, right? Actually, wait, scratch that - there is one thing you could do for me that would make this spirit's life a lot easier."
Rain-Born cocked an eyebrow at her new companion.
"Please," he said. "Call me Jespar."