Kuma

This is the first story I really ever sat down and wrote. Just as a note, it's done partly in flashbacks, so don't let that confuse you.

Kuma

She ran through the low branches and bushes, terror lending wings to her feet as she smashed a path through the woods. A half-blind toddler could have followed her trail, but she didn’t have the presence of mind to care, much less go back and forge a new, less obvious one.
She knew there would be pursuit, though. How could she think otherwise, after what she had done? The blood dripping from her claws was like a metronome to her sharpened senses, much better than that of most girls her age. Better than most humans, and even some animals, actually.
The repetitive splat, splat of the drops lulled her mind, though her feet few no less swiftly. Her thoughts began to slide towards recollection as she continued to lope through the flora.

***

She was down at the river when she saw the smoke, but for a moment she’d thought nothing of it, fires being common in these chilly mountains. Nobody wanted to be any colder than they had to be. But as she bent down to pick up her bucket, something clicked. This plume of smoke was thicker than any other she’d ever seen, even when her father had burned a useless pile of trash and loam. It was looming above the village like an evil omen, but its source was from somewhere a mile or so away.
She pondered over what it could be for only a moment before the half-filled bucket dropped to the ground from her limp fingers, splashing water over her shoes and dress. She didn’t notice though, as she broke into an awkward run, kicking off her shoes to move more quickly.

***

Her slightly pointed ears pricked forward at the sounds of man and metal somewhere in front of her and to the right. She barked a curse that, had her father heard it, would’ve given him cause to backhand her to the floor.
She ran, now looking for somewhere to hide in the thick brush and roots that littered the ground. Her pursuers had the advantages of horses, as well as the ability to use the roads, both of which they had used to their fullest.
She continued to run, noting that the noises made by her pursuers had moved directly in front of her, at the precise point of the road she was heading for. The smell of the horses grew especially strong, and she let out a low growl as she realized that she couldn’t reach any part of the road where the men wouldn’t be able to see her without wasting valuable time.
She increased her speed, terror replacing itself with anger as she made ready her jump. Her grey-green eyes made out a brightly-colored plume waving along the road in front of her, and she corrected her course for it with a feral grin. She reached the road and leapt, time seeming to slow as she flew forward.
She saw the look of shock in the eyes of group of soldiers as she catapulted forward into their commander’s stallion, flipping it into a spin with the force of her weight. It whinnied loudly as it rolled onto its back, and the commander’s scream was cut off by the sickening crack of bones as his body was crushed by the huge animal. Acting completely on animal instinct, her arm shot down, and the warhorse gave a gurgling shriek as she tore its throat out with her hand. An instant later, her head whipped around at the sound of a twang and her shriek picked up where the horse’s had left off as the arrow, shot by one of the quicker soldiers, exploded through her right shoulder in a spray of blood. She fell to the ground from the force of the attack and leapt quickly back to her feet, springing back into the woods with a snarl as she continued on her previous path.
As she loped on, doing her best to ignore the pain emanating from the ragged hole in her chest, the sound of the horse’s scream echoed through her mind. She had killed it quickly, and she didn’t much regret the death of a mere pack animal, not anymore… but the horse’s scream reminded her of another scream, one that she’d heard… before.

***

She stood there dully, not responding to the awkward touches and condolences of the townspeople as they tried to comfort her. She ignored almost everything they said as she stared with glazed-over eyes at the burned-out shell of her house, smoke still rising lazily above it as the men of the town worked to put out the last few fires.
Bandits, she had heard, whispered between the women around her when they though she wasn’t listening. All the signs were there, they’d said, from the stolen valuables, to the fire-gutted house, to – and this was where they’d lowered their voices – what had happened to her mother and older sister. She hadn’t seen any sign of that, though. The townspeople arrived as she knelt over the body of her father, slain by a sword cut that had laid open his stomach. He’d died trying to defend his loved ones, wielding nothing more than the old chipped sword from when he was a soldier, so long ago. Bandits, she’d heard again, muttered to a late-arriving couple. She clenched her fists at that. The townspeople were all blind fools. None of them had seen the dagger that had been lying on the ground next to father – the dagger bearing the crest of those few men good enough to guard his Grace, the Count-Duke of Port Crayne.
When she’d heard the townspeople finally arriving, she’d had the presence of mind to push the dagger into the mud. They didn’t need to know about it. Besides, they probably wouldn’t even know what the crest meant. Their fathers hadn’t been soldiers.

She slipped away when the commotion died down, although her absence would undoubtedly raise another uproar. It didn’t matter much to her, though. She had only one thing on her mind, and even in her unbalanced mental state, she knew she probably wouldn’t survive it. So she stole back into her destroyed house, grabbed some provisions from the cellar, which had pretty much survived the fire, and headed for the mountain pass that was the only way out of the valley that her village was nestled in.
She’d trekked down the dirt road towards the pass for hours, ducking into the bushes at times when she thought there might be someone coming down the path. The entire way, dark thoughts ran through her head as she thought of the men responsible for her loss. Eventually, though, darkness fell upon the valley, and she found herself yawning without meaning to. She took a quick glance around and, deciding that she’d gone far enough for one day, began looking for a good place to bed down for the night. She spotted a deer path meandering off the road and into the brush, and followed it, knowing that it was likely she’d find a nice little clearing to bed down in.
When she got there, she realized that the term ‘nice little clearing’ was overly optimistic, but the weight of the dagger in her traveling pack reminded her she wasn’t taking a journey for the comfort of it. She scraped together some moss to use as a pillow and covered herself with her traveling cloak, sure that she would never get to sleep after what had happened.
However, her fatigue won through, and she drifted off within minutes.

She awoke in the middle of the night and blinked slowly, confused as to why she wasn’t asleep when it was still so dark out. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the half-moon and began to focus, she made out two little bead eyes across the clearing. Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes shut tight, willing herself not to make any sudden movements. She let out a long, slow breath, and as she did so, she opened her eyes slowly, trying to make out the size of the creature in the dim light. As she did so, she paused, confused, as she realized that the creature had no edge. In fact, it looked like a mere pair of eyes, floating there in the darkness.
And then it moved, and she gasped, a sob in her breath. As the eyes moved, so too did her entire field of vision, and she realized that the creature she was looking at was taking up the entire end of the clearing. She’d never heard of any animal this big; even when her father had taken her out of the valley and into the city, the ‘elephants’ that the traders had described had been maybe half the size of this behemoth. It shifted again, moving slowly towards her, and she closed her eyes shut tight, tears leaking out of them as she fought to keep herself from running. She knew that animals that would leave you alone normally would chase you if you ran, just because you ran. So she stayed motionless, until the she could feel the hot, fetid breath of the creature mere feet from her nose. She forced herself to open her eyes again, to stare death in the face, like her father had, and found herself confronted with two beautiful grey orbs, the creature’s soulful eyes. She found herself entranced by those eyes, and stared at them until they looked to be taking up her entire field of vision.
At that moment, when the eyes were the only thing she could see, a voice seemed to ring through her ears. A part of her realized that she hadn’t really heard the voice, instead, it seemed to flow straight into her brain. But that part was silenced as she listened to the words the creature spoke.
“Thou art not afraid of us, child…. Why is this?” The voice, which seemed to be coming from the beast, reminded her of fresh, thick bread, warm summer nights, cold streams, and her father. This creature had the same warmness tempered by firmness that used to be in his voice, whenever he talked to her, and she couldn’t help but be entranced by it. The creature snorted then, and she realized it had asked a question. She stuttered for a moment, trying desperately to remember what it had said, until the beast snorted again, and touched its cold, wet nose to her forehead, its breath filling her nostrils.
She gasped then, as images began to flash through her mind. Memories, almost, because she remembered herself as a twenty-foot-tall bear, standing on her hind legs in broad daylight, towering over the litter of cubs rolling around between her feet. She remembered herself as a huge, grey, gaunt wolf, going hungry in lean times that her brood may eat well. Memories of herself as a lioness protecting her cubs, and as a white-and-black-striped tiger hunting to feed them, all flashed through her mind, until, with yet another snort, the bear pulled away, leaving her dazed and breathless as her mind readjusted to her present, instead of the creature’s primal past.
The beast continued to stare at her, still as a stone, and it occurred to her that if she’d been given some of its memories, it had probably been given some of hers. She looked away tearfully, waiting for a wrathful condemnation or a contemptuous order to go home, accompanied by harsh words about how she had no chance, and that she belonged at her new home. But those words never came. After the silence had dragged on for awhile, she chanced looking back up into the creature’s eyes, and she saw only sympathy there. Sensing it was the right thing to do, she lifted her hand slowly and placed it on the beast’s thick fur, clenching it between her fingers. She knew that even being near such an immense creature was risky, so, she figured another risk couldn’t hurt anything, and besides, it hadn’t made any move to hurt her. In fact, she hadn’t felt this comforted since she saw the plume of smoke, less than a day ago.
The creature shifted a little when she touched it, but remained basically motionless. Its voice filled her head again, this time tinged with anger. “We have had many a brood, many a pack, many a herd taken from us in our times. Thy pain is ours, many times over. And we understand well the concept of revenge. But thy body be too frail for what thy heart desires. We can change this, if thee like. What say thee?”
She took barely a second to consider the creature’s proposition before giving an imperceptible nod. The beast cocked its head to the side, still looking at her, and she nodded her head again, jerkily this time. Her eyes widened as the beast’s huge paw lifted from the ground and moved towards her, a single ebony claw stretching towards her face. In a mind-voice that was both feral and noble, the creature intoned, “From nothing thou art, to nothing, thee shall return.” He paused the claw for just a moment, and looked into her eyes again. She nodded once more, fiercely this time, and with a grunt, he jammed the claw into her heart.
Her scream pierced the night air, causing every bird within a mile to take flight.

***

She ran on. She’d left the troops behind miles ago, and even with the trail she was leaving, they wouldn’t be able to go nearly as fast as she was. She was nearing her destination; she could sense it, and as the castle she was heading towards finally loomed into sight, she stopped dead, settling into a crouch. She waited for a moment, sniffing the air before she padded forward silently. She dropped to all fours and began to lope across the empty ground between the forest’s edge and the castle, and she picked up her pace as she neared the ring of torch-light around a small entrance gate. There was only a single guard there, and even if he had been the pick of the crop, there was nothing he could have done to stop her from springing out of the darkness. She leapt, grabbing his face with her hand as she did so, and shot her arm out, using the combined force to crush his skull against the castle wall. He slid to the floor without a sound, leaving a trail of blood down the wall. She pulled the key-ring from his belt, and unlocked the door, dropping the ring behind her as she entered quietly. She pulled a scrap of cloth from her clothing and sniffed it, letting the strong smell fill her nostrils. She stuffed the cloth back where it came from, and padded down the hall in a feral crouch, following the scent trail.
She came to a fork, and, making a quick decision, followed the left split. But the trail soon died out, and, muttering a curse, she doubled back, this time taking the right fork. She ascended several flights of stairs, emerging into a corridor with the blood of two more guards dripping from her hands. She continued down the corridor, which sharply turned to the right. But new scents had been added to the trail, and she dropped to the floor, cautiously peeking around the corner. Her caution was rewarded as she saw three of his Grace’s guards standing there, a good deal more alert than the sentry at the gate had been. They were wary tonight, since word had probably reached them by now of the foe they faced. But she knew that it wouldn’t matter. She had something to do here this night, and they wouldn’t stop her.
She flew around the corner, snarling loudly as she went. Two of the men cursed and tried to draw their broadswords, but their length made that a relatively long process when the time they had was counted in milliseconds. She pounced, swinging her right arm around in a roundhouse arc, holding her hand in a spearing motion, claws pointed forwards. Her hand exploded through the neck of the first man, covering the other two guards in blood, and continued, spearing the tip of her hand into the neck of the second man. The third drew his dirk instead, a quicker decision, and slashed forward at her, slicing her left arm open to the bone, and she snarled again, bringing that arm up quickly and slicing open his neck. The guards taken care of, she moved to the door, and slammed it open with a roar.
There stood the man who had been the cause of all this. He stood there, clad in nothing more than a night-robe and a breastplate, heavy rapier held firmly in his hand. He smirked at her, and she pounced at him with a shriek.

***

She stood over the last surviving guardsman and surveyed the barracks, the animal in her smirking at the blood-splattered walls. She was angered that they’d managed to get off a messenger-hawk before she could stop them, but it changed little of her plan. She turned back to the man huddled before her, and snarled. He was proving useless; she’d made the mistake of singling out one of the most novice guards. She looked around quickly again, and grinned. When the Count-Duke traveled he liked the idea of roughing it with his men, apparently, because the shirt that was peeking from a trunk at the end of one of the beds was a shade of purple that could belong to none other than royalty. She padded over to it, and yanked the trunk open, letting out a harsh laugh as she saw the veritable fortune of rich clothing. She snatched the purple shirt and inhaled. Now the trail was clear.
She took care of the last man, and left. Her journey was almost ended.

***

He slashed his rapier forward, almost impossibly fast, and cut her from navel to shoulder. She snarled at him, but the snarl was weak. She’d lost a lot of blood that night, and that cut had all but drained her. In her current state, she’d be hard-pressed to defeat a man with movements as rapid as this one, but she had no choice but to try. She saw his body flex, and she quickly rolled to the left as his rapier slashed a line down the spot she had been occupying. She rose to all fours, and sprang at him, ducking under the backhanded sword slash to land at his feet. She grabbed this calf and squeezed, exulting at the sound of cracking bones as he fell to his knees with a cry. He smashed the curved handguard of his sword into her face twice, in rapid succession, and she fell backwards with a yelp. Now both at the same height, they stared each other down, her back against the wall, and then moved towards each other at the same time. She growled triumphantly at the feel of her hand wrapped around his beating heart, and she squeezed, snarling, before pulling her hand out of the gaping hole in his broken chest. She went to rise, and found she couldn’t. Confused, she looked down, and gave a sardonic chuckle as she saw the sword blade sticking out of her chest pinning her to the wall. She wrapped her hands slowly around the blade, and closed her eyes.
Somewhere, a bear howled.