Chapter 17 - What You Might Expect

  When Alex hasn’t heard any howls or seen any signs of movement from the hounds for well over an hour, Alex slips down off the tree. Now that he wasn’t running for his life, Alex has a chance to get a better look at the area. The rocky ground has a bed of dusty sand packed around the gravel, and more of the scrub-grasses sprout up from anywhere the cracks run deeper. The scruffy bushes are fuller, many still sporting most of their leaves. And proper trees. The majority are shorter than the one he’d hidden up, but all the same, trees. As Alex looks out into the distance, the terrain continues to show more and more signs of vibrant life. Even patches of greenery.

  After taking a moment to realign himself with the ‘pull’ he could faintly feel, Alex sets off again. He’s mostly recovered from the rapid strain on his willpower, but a lingering sense of weariness makes him hesitate to start using it more. And for once, he doesn’t even start asking questions to sate his curiosity. It’s enough to just be moving.

  Alex picks his way through the brush, trying not to step on or flatten too much of the growth. If these plants are stubborn enough to keep growing in an environment like this, Alex figures that they deserve to keep growing. A time or two, an errant footfall would disturb a small creature that would then bolt off into the nearest clump of grasses. Alex can’t help but marvel at the difference between here and where he started.

  Eventually with the passage of hours, Alex’s path crosses what appears to be a game-trail heading roughly in the same direction he’s traveling. The well-worn trail cuts through the scrub-grass in a meandering track leading off into the distance. He kneels down to look at the packed-sand, finding innumerable tracks left by all manner of critter. Hoof-marks, claws, pawprints, and even what appears to be barefoot human prints. Alex doesn’t really have a way of knowing how old or new any of them are, but the one thing he can tell is that they’re almost all going one direction, the same as him. So joining the invisible caravan, Alex adds his own bootprint to the procession.

  After some time, Corvus glides down to perch atop the knapsack again. “Alex, foraging for food out here long-term would be a challenge. But finding enough to sustain you for the short-term won’t be too challenging.” He says conversationally. “That is, if you don’t mind eating raw tubers and fruits. Being Faded means needing food, and at least one meal periodically will slow the degradation of your spirit.” He explains.

  That catches Alex’s attention. “So, if you have Animus, you don’t need the food. Galla’s family still seemed to eat regularly though.” He muses. “Guessing there’s still some benefit then?” Alex reaches out a hand, letting his fingers brush over the tops of the nearly waist-high grasses along the path.

  Corvus lets out a soft caw. “Not in the way you likely imagine. It does nothing for their body or soul. However the benefits it provides psychologically are likely immense for them. It brings them together, gives them connection, and a sense of familial fulfillment.” Corvus says, the smile evident in his tone.

  It’s infectious, and Alex finds himself grinning too, remembering the family. He fingers the handle of the knife, lost in thought for a moment. Then a thought nags at the back of his mind. “Corvus… Those hounds, and the other wildlife I’ve seen. They don’t have Animus, because they weren’t mortal souls. And they’re animals, so no one’s going to make a Deal with them. But those hounds didn’t seem Faded at all. What’s up with that?” He asks.

  Corvus lets out a pleased ‘ah’. “That is an interesting topic indeed. Your assumptions are accurate. They do not possess any Animus, nor are they Faded. They aren’t sentient, no ‘vital spark’ that requires Animus to sustain it. So they possess fairly normal life-cycles. They are born, they live, they breed, and they die.” He explains with obvious excitement. “Some denizens of Hell have even domesticated varieties of creatures for food products, resources, and even companionship. Just like in the mortal realm.”

  Alex listens as he walks, caught up in Corvus’s enjoyment. “That’s cool. A whole ecosystem then. I guess they’re part of how Hell absorbs the pieces of souls after dissolution?” He surmises.

  The crow hops from Alex’s pack onto his shoulder. “Absolutely right. Part of the complex system that renews souls in the mortal realm, and continues to generate Animus in Hell.” Corvus agrees.

  Alex is about to say more, but something to the side of the path catches his eye. A structure, barely more than a shack. It was the first Alex had noticed since leaving Last-Stop. But something about it gives him pause. There’s a sense of emptiness lingering.

  His curiosity getting the better of him, Alex deviates from the path. He wades through the hip-high grasses, making his way towards the structure. He looks over at Corvus, but the crow seems relaxed and is looking at the building too. Taking that as a good sign, Alex approaches.

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  That lingering sense of emptiness grows more pervasive the closer Alex gets. From the darkness in the empty window, the doorway without a door, and as Alex notices as he gets closer, that its roof and one wall had long ago collapsed inwards. Unlike the buildings in Last-Stop, this one isn’t made from the ‘melt-rock’ he’d seen before. It’s been built stone by stone stacked together, some still having mortar caked between them.

  Alex moves to the front of the ruin and steps up the rough-hewn stair to the door. Peeking inside reveals a simple room, partially collapsed. A wardrobe and bedframe lay splintered and broken under the remnants of the wall and roofing. The other side of the space fared better though. A workbench rests against the wall, lined with rusted and fragmented tools, and in a pile in the corner, a clump of clothing laid out as if still being worn.

  Corvus shifts on Alex’s shoulder. “This,” he begins in a soft, almost reverent tone, “is about what you might expect to find when someone gives up their Animus and chooses to let go.” Alex startles a bit, the positioning of the clothing taking on a much more somber light. Alex looks around a little more, but he doesn’t touch anything, feeling like he’s trespassing on a grave. Neither Corvus nor Alex speak another word until Alex steps back outside.

  As Alex steps down from the doorway, Corvus speaks quietly to him. “Something has been observing us since we approached this ruin.” He says, voice amused rather than concerned.

  With a frown, Alex looks around. He doesn’t immediately spot anything. “Are you sure?” Corvus just caws. “Well, as long as it’s not another of those Stone Hellhounds waiting to ambush and attack me, I-” Alex is interrupted by something bursting up from the ground behind a thicker clump of the scrub-grasses.

  “Hara no do that! Hara nice! Hara no attack!” An insistent, feminine voice rings out into Alex’s mind as his eyes go wide and he freezes in place. In the settling cloud of dust and scattered pebbles, a pair of glowing amethyst eyes peer out at Alex. Then those eyes go wide too and duck low to the ground with a startled yipe. As the dust clears, Alex’s heart sinks.

  Another Stone Hellhound crouches behind the grass, this one bigger than any that had chased him before. And unlike the pack, this one has glimmering crystals encrusting its haunches and back, as well as two gold horns like bent knifeblades arching from behind its brow. The only thing that stops Alex from immediately bolting away was that voice.

  “You no see Hara. Nothing here!” It comes again, a tone of pleading and desperation coloring the words. The large hound trembles, trying to hide behind the grass.

  And then Corvus cracks. He lets out a cawwing laugh that cuts through the standoff, making both Alex and the hound shift their gaze to the crow as he takes off from Alex’s shoulder and drops his guise. The hound cowers down against the ground at the sight of a demon of that power, nearly disappearing back into the hole she’d burst out of. Corvus takes a breath and regains his composure, then addresses the creature.

  He takes a knee. “Would I be correct to assume your name is Hara?” He asks. The hound doesn’t answer, but the burning amethyst eyes peek out from between the shoots of grass again. “There is nothing to fear from us. We are simply travelers passing by.”

  Alex looks back and forth between Corvus and the hound. “Fear us? Corvus, I’m more worried about what it’ll do to me!” He hisses under his breath.

  Corvus replies to Alex with none of his human companion’s apprehension. “Alex, look at her. She’s terrified of us. The only reason she announced her presence is because she didn’t want you to think she would attack you.”

  Only then does it click in Alex’s mind. The voice he heard was a telepathic voice like Corvus in crow form. It was the hound. That voice was the hound! As the realization dawns on him, Alex’s mouth falls open. “I thought you said they weren’t sentient.”

  Corvus nods. “I did indeed! Which is why this is so fascinating. This one has acquired Animus enough to reach the first threshold. A beast that does that gains the ‘vital spark’. They become self-aware. This is exceedingly rare!” He says, the glee on his bird-like face radiating like sunlight.

  Alex just blinks, then looks back to the hound. “You really aren’t going to attack us?” He asks, unsure if he’d even trust whatever answer the beast would give.

  The hound lets out a little whine that carries an echo of that sonorous howl Alex knew all too well. “Hara no attack. Hara nice. Hara no attack anyone.” After a moment's pause, the hound hastily adds, “Except one time when bad person try steal from Hara special place.” She says, eyes flicking to the shack behind Alex. “You just look, you no take. No attack.” She insists again. Then, carefully, cautiously, the hound stands up again.

  Hara steps out of the scrub-grasses towards the unfamiliar pair, nose twitching, eyes darting between them. She’s wary, timid, and still a little spooked. But maybe these new people will be nice if she is. Lean and tall, she’s an imposing figure of a Hellhound. But that’s undercut by every bit of her posture and attitude being that of a lost pup.

  Seeing her fully, Alex’s breath hitches in his chest. But even with his nervousness, something about this creature feels achingly familiar. Not her specifically, but the familiarity of a big dog wagging its tail. And that’s all it takes to crack Alex’s hesitation. He relaxes and holds out a hand towards her. “Yeah, ok. We won’t hurt you, or steal anything from your special place.” He says. And sure enough, she wags.