Under The Moon's Watchful Eye

"Hail, Great Owl!" a voice drifted into my dreams, rousing me from my slumber. I blearily cracked open one eye: it was not yet night. "I trust there is good reason for my being disturbed so early?" I snapped irritably, clacking my beak to hide a yawn. The voice from outside carried a fair amount of contrition. "Apologies, O Chief. I did not mean to disturb you. It's just…well...strange creatures have been sighted, on the broad path of the Men. I was sent to seek your council." I snorted. Being Chief Bird of the East was the burden I bore as the eldest owl. It seemed the other birds of my domain scrambled to me for every little matter that needed resolving, and I was weary of the endless silly nesting disputes...wait...strange creatures, eh? With a huff, I leaped up to the edge of the hole in the tree I made my nest in. I squinted in the light of the lowering sun and beheld a small songbird of some sort on the branch, a respectful distance away. The young fellow, a warbler with a gold belly, I could now see, gulped and bowed his head. "My apologies again, Great Owl," he stammered. "Yes, yes," I cut him off. "Tell me of these creatures, and who sent you?"

"I was sent by my mother, O Chief," the lad said, immediately puffing up with pride at the task. Then he seemed to remember himself and gestured west with a wing. "My flock lives at the edge of the Blessed Lands, by the valley of the big Dogs and fierce-faced Men." "I know the place," I said, trying not to be too impatient; this one was barely out of the egg. "Yes, O Chief...my brother and I, we flew further abroad, to the road all the flocks of Men share, in search of locusts. That's where we saw them. A migrating group of very odd Men, three of them riding beasts we had not seen before." "Describe both," I ordered, curiosity aroused. The chick cocked his head. "The beasts were large, O Chief. They looked almost like the big Dogs of the valley..." "Wolves," I corrected absently, eyes flicking to movement in the grass. "If you call the wolves ‘dogs’ and are in snapping distance, it may be the last thing you do." The young warbler let out a peep of distress, then collected himself and continued. "Yes, well...the beasts were like the…the 'wolves'…of the valley. But they were almost two times larger, and thicker. Shorter beaks, too...or snouts, rather. With great, shaggy hides."

That sounded familiar to my old ears, actually. Larger than wolves, shaggy hides? Indeed, I believed I knew the beasts he’d seen…there were not many here in what we beasts called the Blessed Lands. The Men we shared our home with called it Ojii’Binen, and its tribes made one mighty nation, like families forming a flock or pack. They lived alongside Greater Beasts, as we knew them, beasts that spoke their tongue and lived alongside them. The Lenai, the lion pride of the desert, and the Eagles who lived in the eastern mountains. I always marveled at how the different tribes and Greater Beasts got along to form a cohesive group….

But that was not important for the moment. What had I been pondering? Ah, yes…the large beasts that were not native to our land. I yawned again and told the messenger, “They sound like some beasts we have here, in the mountains to the east. They may be just a bit different than the ones you saw, since, as you know, our lands are the only ones where some beasts are blessed with speech. Carry on, though.” I shifted my focus to the underbrush, hearing the scramble of tiny paws in the grass, as the young one continued. "The Men...well...they were different. They were larger than those of the Blessed Lands, and wore dark furs over their pale hides..." I had been turning my head, tracking the mouse in the grass as the chick spoke. Now my head, and full attention, snapped back to him. "Larger? With pale hides? You are CERTAIN?"

"Yes, O Chief!" the young warbler chirped, nearly drawing back as I advanced. My mind raced. If my guesses were true…it was highly unusual that they should be so close to the land of the Ojii’Binen this time of year. However, as long as they stayed on the road, it was not an incursion, nor cause for alarm, I thought. If I were to confess, it was my own curiosity more than any real concern that spurred me to action. I made up my mind and hopped to another branch, facing a young kola nut tree near my own home. “SARAFINA!”

There was a moment’s pause, then from within the tree, there was a rustle of leaves as a young barn owl, smaller than I, but still larger than the young messenger, emerged from her hole. Sarafina, one of my advisors, named after the youngest of the deities, Sarafina, goddess of the moon and stars. “My Chief?” she asked, white-feathered face turned towards me. “I believe I may need you to accompany myself and…what’s your name, young one?” I asked the warbler, looking at him with my body still facing Sarafina. “Sun-Feather, Great Owl!” the messenger puffed up again. “Very well, Sun-Feather. Show us these odd Men and odd wolves."

It was not a long flight back to Sun-Feather’s roosting grounds, and then past them to where he had seen the strangers. The sun had barely left the sky before we passed over the valley of the ‘big Dogs’, where the Isan-Osu, the wolf-riding nomads, made their winter home. The Isan-Osu were not of the Ojii’Binen empire, despite living mostly in the Blessed Lands. They were, if I remembered, the descendants of Isan outcasts who now made their livings on the edges of the territory others called home. The Ojii’Binen tolerated their presence; the Mabaan, Dote, and Sanhi tribes even traded with them frequently.

We continued on; as I suspected, the broad path the messenger referred to was, in fact, what the Ojii'Binen called the West Trade Road. It lay a half-day’s march, by their standards, from the borders of the Blessed Lands, and was the route which was traversed by travelers from the Isan to the south and the Dubun to the north, connecting the three lands. And speaking of the Dubun....

"There they are, O Chief, Lady Sarafina!" Sun-Feather chirped, perhaps forgetting that as owls, mine and Sarafina's sight at night was far greater than his. But I ignored that, in favor of studying what lay before us. A stretch of trees grew along the western side of the road; more than a grove but less than a forest. It was in the shelter of a clearing in these trees that the travelers were stopped for the night. Their carts were arranged in a broad circle, with fires and those flimsy movable dens called tents built within the space. I swooped closer, pointing out a tree that might serve as a decent vantage point. Sarafina landed as gracefully as the goddess she was named for, and managed to hide her bright face amongst the leaves. In the meantime, I alighted on a sturdy branch befitting my size. Sun-Feather landed beside me, somehow making more noise than I despite being less than a fifth of my size. I lightly tapped him with a wing, motioning for silence, and pointed at the beasts of the camp. They were bears, larger than those found in the Ty’noh Mountains in the East of our home. These were of the northern brood, and the Men that rode them weren't, in fact, Men.

Oh, they appeared to be, until you realized they were half again as tall as the largest Ojii'Binen warriors. These giants also differed from the Ojii'Binen in that their hides were not in the color range of sand to wood to the night sky…they were pale as the moon. Relations between the Men of the Blessed Lands and the Dubun were civil, in a way. There had been a couple brief skirmishes in years past, though. The Dubun of the time did not yet have a proper respect of the Blessed Lands and tended to cross the northern borders to hunt recklessly and wastefully. The Emperor sent messengers with words of rebuke, which were ignored. Seeing this, the tribes that lived on the border in the north, the Moun Montay in the eastern mountains and the Sanhi of the western plains, promptly issued their own, more physical rebuke. The Dubun hunting parties stopped, and only traders with permission ever entered the Blessed Lands again.

I was curious. This band of Dubun was camped to the west of the trade road, a league or so from the impassible Sand Marshes to the west and the dark lands beyond that...I shuddered and focused. Quietly, I asked Sun-Feather, "Which direction were they traveling in?" The warbler seemed to have some sense, not trusting himself not to squeak an answer. He instead pointed north. So....they were returning home then? I looked at their carts: they seemed laden. Presumably this was a trading party, returning from exchanging pelts and northern metals for southern food and the wines the Isan were known to make.

I watched the camp for a bit. There were a dozen giants present...half male, three female, and three chicks…or children, as they called them. The children were not all that different from the young of Men; you mightn't be able to tell at a glance that one were a Dubun until they reached their twentieth summer. It was the three bears, under a roughly constructed shelter, that truly interested me, though. I had seen a few in my younger days, wandering the Ty’noh mountain peaks. Though not unkind, those bears were not particularly keen on good, long talks. But I could tell at a glance that these northern ones were more brutish, less civil. In addition to their size, I could hear them grunting at each other. Not speaking but grunting. I liked to think I could understand the tongues of all beasts with the gift of speaking, whether they spoke the tongue of Men or the speech of their own kind. Though perhaps I could only understand those of the Blessed Land? It had been years since I had been abroad and encountered beasts without the gift...of speech....

My thoughts trailed off as I turned my neck around. This stretch of trees....it was silent. No chirping of frogs or night-birds. No rodents scrambled in the underbrush. Not even the noise of insects. Sun-Feather seemed to notice the stillness as well...he shifted nervously, turning away from the camp to look this way and that way, peering through the trees. Sarafina appeared to not have moved from when she landed; yet I could see her head had turned completely towards the west, into the trees. The bears of the Dubun suddenly stopped their shuffling, and turned their noses west as well. The cart-horses on the other side of the camp began to snort nervously. “They are being hunted,” Sarafina stated.

And then the trees came alive with snarls and screeches. The creatures that burst forth…I had never seen anything like them with my own eyes. But I knew what they were and my blood ran cold.

We beasts remember history, as the race of Man does. Tales of the past are passed down from parent to chick or cub, and the tales that came to mind filled me with a fear I had not known in many summers. To the far West, beyond the Sand Marshes, were the Ash-Lands. Mountains of fire, some that still fumed, had laid waste to the land around them. Barren, hot, and most critically, almost entirely devoid of the sun. The smoke and ash blocked the sky for leagues upon leagues upon leagues. If one were to cross the gloomy Sand-Marshes to the opposite side from where we perched, you would find that the light of the sky grew dim at an alarming rate. The air would grow hot and thick. Few creatures lived there…great serpents, larger even than the crocodiles of the Vast Lake, that somehow ate earth (or was it rocks?) and wretched flightless birds that lived off the larger-than-normal worms and insects of the land. The third creature of that land…were the ones that we beheld now. Night-fangs, the Men called them, and we beasts saw no reason to give them any other names. Slightly smaller than Men, running on all four limbs. Claws and fangs far larger than they had any right to bear, large blank eyes that helped them see through the gloom of their land, and rough, black, scaly skin. They lacked the gift of speech; screeching, chirping, and snarling seemed to be their tongue. They were said to not be that intelligent, not as many beasts of the Blessed Lands were.

They also actually weren’t supposed to still exist. One of the great Emperors of the Ojii’Binen, in the time of my grand-sire’s grand-sire’s grand-sire, led many warriors to the Ash-Lands and in a long bloody struggle, the night-fangs were thought to be wiped out. But it seemed quite apparent that they had been spawning, with great success, and were now bold enough, or hungry enough, to cross the Sand Marshes once more in search of prey.

I was honestly taken aback…now that the attack had begun, I could scarcely believe these ravenous, feral monsters had ever been able to silently stalk this close. They snapped, they snarled, they screeched, a few even howled, and they tore without mercy into the surprised Dubun and their animals. The bears fought back as best they could, but were quickly overwhelmed by the numbers. Unfortunately, the giant-folk were for the most part unarmed, freshly fed, and slowed from partaking in the wine of the Isan. One young Dubun, a hunter if I ever saw one, fought side by side with a large grey bear and the two did seem to be able to stem the tide. But the numbers of the night-fangs won out, and both valiant fighters fell, side by side.

I’m not entirely certain how long we perched there as the night-fangs ravaged the caravan. Predator though I am, I had still turned my head aside; the sounds were quite enough. Sun-Feather perched, shaking with fright, beak agape, unable to look away. Sarafina, however, had focused intently on one spot amongst the carnage. The horror only ended when an abandoned jug of wine was knocked into one of the fires. The resulting burst of flame briefly touched a few of the night-fangs, but more importantly, set two of the tents ablaze, and in turn, some of the circled carts. The abominations could handle flame to a degree; their home in the Ash-Lands held many mountains of fire, and there were also great spouts of steaming water that erupted from the ground at times, or so our tales say. It was the light that they abhorred, and they soon fled before the bright flames, snarling, back into the woods. They went west, I noted with some relief, and not east, towards our own home.

A frightened squeak brought me from my thoughts…Sun-Feather looked as if he were going to faint. Sarafina, however, took wing…she floated towards the fires, towards the wagons. “What are you doing?” I called; scavenging was beneath us as owls, after all. “My Chief…I think one of their chicks survived,” she answered, circling the wagon, trying to peer into the covered area. I blinked in surprise. The young one would surely have only the gods and goddesses to thank. Come to think of it…did the Dubun acknowledge the Sun Goddess and her court? How did that work? For instance, I knew Makeda herself often appeared before the high-born of the Dote tribe, for one reason or another, but…

A whimper from the direction of the cart, audible even over the crackle of the flames.

Right. There was a newly-orphaned chick…a Dubun child, no less…to worry about here. We watched as the child crawled out of their hiding space…I thought it was a female, and a very young one at that. Perhaps less than ten summers. Rather understandably, the child began calling out, presumably for her parents. As she began to understand the reality of her situation, she began to wail. Again, I told myself how blessed the child was in the first place, yet how long that luck would last was another matter entirely. The child could not count on surviving another encounter with the night-fangs. As I pondered the possible fate of this young giantess, Sarafina flared her wings and landed atop one of the carts, startling the survivor.

Neither Sun-Feather nor myself moved as the two females gazed at each other in the light of the moon and stars and flame. After a moment, the giantess blinked through her tears and sniffled. “Hello, pale face,” she whispered. I snorted: the Dubun child had an ironic choice of words. But Sarafina took the comment with grace; it wasn’t as if she could tell the child her name. Most of us owls, as well as the eagles, hawks, and even those uncouth crows, could understand Men and giants perfectly, when they used the common tongue. Conversely, few Ojii’Binen could speak our language these days, while none of the Dubun had ever had the gift, as far as I knew. Which was probably why Sarafina felt comfortable saying to me, “The child will perish if left alone.” The child in question gazed up at my advisor with wide eyes, only hearing hooting to her ears. Then, as only a non-beast child would, she tried to imitate our speech with a ‘Whoo-whoo!’

I pretended I didn’t hear Sun-Feather’s choke of laughter that he unsuccessfully tried to pretend was a cough.

Not willing to give away my presence with my voice, I merely nodded. Sarafina saw me, of course, and nodded back. She flapped once and soared over the child’s head, landing on the east side of the encampment. The child was, thankfully, not a fool, or else simply too at a loss of what else to do: either way, she made her way across the ruins of the camp to where Sarafina was. The small owl flew into the air and crossed the trade-road, alighting on a lone tree. The child hesitated then, looking back to the remains of the camp. And presumably, I reminded myself, to the remains of her family. It took a few moments, and a few instances of spreading her wings to get the child’s attention, but eventually, the orphan Dubun’s eye was drawn back to the moonlight reflecting off Sarafina’s white-feathered face and wings. With an admirable firmness, the young giantess set her jaw and crossed the road. Sarafina gave a satisfied snap of her beak, and a short while later, both child and guide were well on their way to our Blessed Lands, the lands of the Ojii’Binen. I sent a prayer for safe travels after them; it would take quite some time to get the child to the safety of the nearest village.

I turned back to Sun-Feather as flames crackled beneath us, the fires already burning lower. By morning, carrion-birds would be here, if the night-fangs did not return to further gorge themselves before dawn…I paused. That they had crossed the Sand-Marshes at all was startling in and of itself. For I now remembered why there had even been a war in the past: the night-fangs had been ignored for countless years, until hunger drove them forth…first under cover of night, and then….an eclipse. My eyes widened. That’s what it had been: a horde of night-fangs had invaded the Blessed Land during an eclipse. They had slaughtered countless beasts and Ojii-Binen villagers. The Emperor of the time, a Moun Montay warrior, chased them from our home, then gathered more warriors and pursued them into the Ash-Lands. And now…here we were, looking at the results of a night-fang hunting pack. While the Ojii’Binen began to prepare to celebrate, in a month’s time, the coming winter eclipse.

Ignoring Sun-Feather’s chirp of surprise, I took flight and followed the path of the orphan to the road. Even in the moonlight, I could see the hints of her passing. A trail that could be followed, if a hunter or hunters were hungry enough. I looked back west, in the direction the fell creatures had fled, towards the Sand Marshes and the Ash-Lands beyond. Where there was one hunting pack, it would be prudent to assume there were more.

I shook my head at the divine influence that was most likely at play that allowed us to witness this hunt. The unfamiliar sight of the Dubun had alarmed the warblers, who had sent for me. I could have simply educated them on the existence of the giants and bears, yet my own curiosity brought us to this location. And because of that, we now had some warning of things that may yet come, though I sorely hoped they wouldn’t.

“Sun-Feather,” I called out, landing in the same tree Sarafina had recently vacated. The small bird flitted across the road to me. “Yes, Great Owl?” I clacked my beak as I formed plans in my head. “Return to your mother and your flock. Tell them all that has happened, then give her my council: I advise all flocks to move east. Scouts should be sent to this area, and to the south and north, at night, as often as can be. Keep an eye out for any more of these creatures. If word can be spread to the earth-bound beasts, do so. I fear the westernmost edges of the Blessed Lands will not be safe much longer.”

“With a will, O Chief!” Sun-Feather squeaked, and he shot off into the night. I spared one last look back at the burning camp, then took wing, putting the west behind me. I flew back to the comfort of the Blessed Lands, pondering the night’s events. I would have to try to find Speakers amongst the tribes of Men, to try to warn them. The night-fangs had returned from legend and their hunger could yet lead them to our home. I flapped my wings a bit harder at that thought and tried to orient myself in the direction of the nearest village. It would either be the Manaan of the Lake to the east, as directly as I could fly, or maybe a band of Sanhi with their herds grazing to the north. I mulled over what I knew of the two tribes, quite unaware of the moon herself frowning down on me.

In my racing thoughts, I had forgotten the much closer winter village of the Isan-Osu.