The Hushed Well

Sparse trees stood dark and silent in the dead night; snow weighed down their branches, so that the chilling breeze didn’t stir them. The trees were not the only things silent; the air was devoid of the usual sounds of the wild. The only noise was the mild crunching of snow under paws, the owner of which took slow, painful steps. He was a wolf, approaching old age but not yet there, and still quite strong. However, anyone who saw him in his current state would not guess the latter. He walked hunched down, almost limping because of a strange deformation in his right front leg that twisted his muscles and tendons. Other deformations that had a similar appearance were present in various places on his body; for one, his left ear was bent double and shrunken, and barely looked like an ear. All over him, portions of flesh were rotting, leaving hideous gaping wounds in several places, the ragged edges of which were ugly and blackened. One of these was on his muzzle, drawing his lips up and away from his teeth, giving him a frightful appearance. His eyes were alright, but they were filled with a look of one who is under constant torture, and indeed he was; his slow pace was partially due to the severe, unrelenting pain that wracked his body inside and out, even where he had no injuries or mutilations. He continued with a purpose, knowing that he now had a chance to end it.

A relatively large pack of wolves congregated in a sizeable clearing in the forest, moving about on casual business, eating food or talking to one another. All of them had stayed up that night to await news that they had been obsessively eager to discover. A sentry sitting by the trees not far from the group suddenly stood up and trotted back to them. “The Eye has returned,” he said.

The pack hurried to where the sentry was now standing, looking toward the forest, watching as the deformed wolf slowly walked out from among the trees. As he approached them, his pace began to quicken as his body was restored, his muscle building up again, the deformations undoing themselves, the wounds healing until he looked perfectly normal, except the look of pain in his eyes that hadn’t disappeared. “Well, Rodama?” said the sentry. The wolf paused for a moment, and then nodded. “I have found a way.” The entire pack uttered various sounds of relief. “How?” said the sentry. “What must we do?” “It is simple. All we require is a halfblood, one who is both wolf and dog. And…I even know where we shall find one.” Everyone began embracing each other, speaking words of celebration, some even beginning to cry with joy. “Yes…” said Rodama, looking beyond the pack to the object that all of them were being careful not to stray too far from. “We shall break this curse at last.”

Rodama, elder of the Sheruna pack, had spent the better part of two years waiting night after night for a message carrying the means of his pack’s salvation, a message he could only perceive by sitting alone and descending into the most extreme of concentration. He possessed an unusual ability, a combination of precognition and telepathy that allowed him to feel his way through the possibilities of events that had not yet happened, the application of which was to solve problems by using intuition alone, rather than by searching out information. In many cases, including this one, it took quite a long time for his powers to yield the results he searched for, but there had been no choice; there was no way on earth to find a way out of their suffering aside from his visions because the source of that suffering prevented all action otherwise.

The source of that suffering…

Rodama remembered it as clearly as if not a day had passed since it happened, the first moment the pain struck him, how it took him off his feet, forcing him to crawl along, wracked with horrible agony. He remembered the ghastly voice inside his head, telling him what had happened with an icy and unsympathetic tone. He remembered the first few desperate days that he had struggled to lead his pack along toward the place that the voice had instructed them to go. He remembered finally reaching it…and being trapped there for two years, not one in the pack escaping the curse, not even the puppies…

Now that his scattered perceptions had finally melded into a plan, however, there was indeed hope; no longer was the vague hope they had clung to aimless. He had been sitting in the long-empty home of Avantar the Moon Watch, an arctic fox so old no one knew how many years he had seen, and so wise that many sought him for advice, that had disappeared inexplicably quite some time before. Rodama found that being in that place tended to inspire his visions, making them clearer and more coherent. Suddenly, it had merely lined up for him; the way out of their nightmare, starting with the source, and shortly thereafter where it could be found. After his return, he promptly assembled the pack’s finest warriors into a raiding party. The first part of the plan was the most difficult; the vision had shown the wolf-dog to be several days’ journey away, and every step they took farther away from their pack’s resting place intensified the pain, damaging their bodies more and more hideously. The only reason they could endure was the fact that they were approaching the vessel of their freedom, which helped lighten the curse even before anything was done. Also, they knew that this was the only way they would ever end their pain, and they held on tenaciously for that chance. Finally, one night, they reached their destination, a small town on the shore of the sea. “Is this what you saw?” asked one of the wolves, and Rodama nodded. “Yes. He is down there somewhere. Give me a moment.” Rodama lowered his head, forcing everything out of his mind, leaving a mental picture of darkness for a moment. Then, the visions came, lining up as they had before, more quickly and clearly now that he had already seen them. All he needed was to find the next step…and then it appeared, the final clue, a picture of a house on a side street, with a porch, on which was lying…the vessel. “Good,” Rodama thought, becoming excited at nearly having their solution in their grasp. The vision didn’t stop, however; someone appeared next to the wolf-dog, lying next to him under the blanket. It was a beautiful female husky, who at that moment was sharing a kiss with the wolf-dog. Rodama assumed they were mates. “Pity,” he thought. “I hate to imagine how this will make her suffer…”

Balto and Jenna soon released their kiss, nuzzling one another as they lay under a blanket, listening to the night wind blowing, looking at the moon and stars as they hung in the pale black sky. “You know how people talk about their paradise, Balto?” Jenna whispered. Balto nodded. “Yeah. Why do you mention that?” “Right here, right now? This is mine.” “I couldn’t agree more.” They kissed each other again. “I confess I am greedy,” said Jenna. “Every moment I spend with you I want more.” “And that’s why this is paradise; because if we like, we can spend every moment of every day shutting out the world and leaving just us together in our love.” “You know, I find I don’t care what life has in store for me.” “No?” “All I want is to know that you’ll be at my side forever.” “You’ve got your wish. I’m never leaving you. Never.” “I know. I love you.” “I love you, too.” They shared several kisses, caressing each other softly. “That’s love,” said Balto. “That’s its beauty. It holds a rare promise.” “What’s that?” Jenna asked. Balto smiled. “Eternity. Love can be forever.” They moved closer to one another, their eyes filling with desire, beginning to draw heavy breaths. “Promise me eternity?” Balto said, reaching out a paw and pulling his body to Jenna’s. “I do,” Jenna sighed, letting Balto move onto her. “I most certainly do…”

“We need to wait,” said Rodama. “They will likely go inside and fall asleep before long. Then, we shall take the vessel, and no one will know what happened.” “And what of this girl?” “Leave her be. She is of no importance. Even if she tries to fight, we are too many.” The rest nodded, and they sat down to await Rodama’s signal. In about ten minutes, the elder felt something shift in his mind, and he focused his visions again. The pair had gotten up and were now entering their house. “We move,” Rodama commanded, and the group ran down the hill toward the flat expanse that led to the town, silent as phantoms.

Balto wrapped the blanket around Jenna, pulling her close to him with it. “You’re giving me the whole thing?” Jenna protested. “What if you get cold?” “Nonsense; you keep me plenty warm enough.” “Aw, you’re sweet,” Jenna said with a smile, snuggling up to her husband. “But even so, I don’t think the blanket is what keeps me warm. When you have to go on sled runs, the bed feels very cold, blanket or not.” “Well, it should be a while before the next one of those; most of the sled trips these days are mail.” They put their paws around one another. “Remember when we first fell asleep holding each other like this, Jenna?” Balto asked, a whimsical smile on his face. Jenna murmured assent. “It was beautiful, and it still is, every time it happens again.” Balto held Jenna close and kissed her ear and she pressed her head gently against his chest. “Goodnight,” he said softly. “Goodnight,” Jenna mumbled, already half asleep.

Rodama and his soldiers took little time to arrive at Rosy’s house. He ordered them to stand guard while he scouted the situation. He crept onto the porch and slowly looked in the front window with one eye. It was the wrong room, however; he saw nothing. He cursed in Itera, hoping that his last vision was still true; he couldn’t focus properly and be doing something else at the same time, and right now, he had to keep his mind on their task. “Let us go in quietly, and be quick about it.”

Balto nuzzled Jenna, and she stirred, pulling him closer to her before settling again. “I’ll always