Stone of Tears

Richard tried to shoo it away again. It didn’t move. He put his hands on his hips.

“You can’t come with me. Go away!”

It tottered to him and clutched his legs. What was he going to do? He couldn’t have a gar tagging after him.

“Where are your flies? You don’t even have any blood flies of your own. How can you expect to catch your dinner without your own blood flies?” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “Well, it’s not my concern.”

The small, wrinkled face peeked around his legs. A low growl came from its throat as its lips pulled back to reveal sharp little fangs. Richard looked around. It was growling at the dead woman. He closed his eyes with a groan. The pup was hungry. If he buried the body, the gar would dig it up.

Richard watched as the gar hopped over to the body, pawing at it as its growls grew louder. Richard tried to swallow back the dryness in his throat, or maybe the things he was thinking.

Sister Verna had said to get rid of the body. They mustn’t know how the woman had died, she had said. He couldn’t stand the thought of the remains being eaten. But even if he buried it, it would be eaten anyway—by worms. Why were worms better than a gar? Another ghastly thought came to him: who was he to judge—he had eaten human flesh. Why was that any different? Was he any better?

And besides, if the pup was busy eating, he could be off, and they would be gone before it had time to follow. It would be on its own then. He would be rid of it.

Richard watched as the little gar cautiously inspected the body. It experimentally tugged at an arm with its teeth. The pup wasn’t experienced enough to know what to do with a kill. It growled louder. The sight made Richard sick.

The teeth dropped the arm and the gar looked at him, as if to ask for help. The wings fluttered with excitement. It was hungry.

Two problems at once.

What difference did it make? She was dead. Her spirit had departed her body and wouldn’t miss it. It would solve two problems at once. Gritting his teeth at the task in mind, he drew the sword.

Pushing back the hungry gar with a leg, Richard took a mighty swing, slashing open a great rent. The little gar pounced.

Richard walked quickly away without looking back. The sounds turned his stomach. Who was he to judge? Lightheaded, he broke into a trot back to the camp. Sweat soaked his shirt. The sword had never felt so heavy at his hip. He tried to put the whole incident out of his head. He thought about the Hartland Woods and wished he were home. He wished he could still be who he had once been.

Sister Verna had just finished currying Jessup and was lifting on his saddle. She eyed him with a sidelong glance before moving to her horse’s head, speaking softly and privately to him as she scratched his chin. Richard took up the curry comb and brushed quickly at Geraldine’s back, cautioning her sharply to stand still and quit turning about. He wanted to be away quickly.

“Did you make sure they wouldn’t find the body?”

His hand with the comb froze on Geraldine’s flanks. “If they find what’s left, they won’t know what happened. I was attacked by gars. They got the body.”

She thought this over silently for a moment. “I thought I heard gars. Well, I guess that will do.” He went back to brushing as she spoke again. “did you kill them?”

“I killed one.” He considered not telling her, but decided it didn’t matter. “There was a baby gar. I didn’t kill it.”

“Gars are murderous beasts. You should have killed it. Perhaps you should go back and finish it.”

“I can’t. It… won’t let me get close enough.”

With a little grunt she pulled the girth strap tight. “You have a bow.”

“What difference does it make? Let’s just be off. All by itself, it will probably die anyway.”

She bent, checking that the strap wasn’t pinching her horse. “Perhaps you’re right. It would be best if we were away from here.”

“Sister? Why haven’t the gars bothered us before?”

“Because I shield against them with my Han. You were too far away, beyond my shields, and so they came for you.”

“So this shield will keep all gars away from us?”

“Yes.”

Well, at least there was one thing the Han was good for.

“Doesn’t that take a lot of power? Gars are big beasts. Isn’t it hard?”

The question brought a small smile to her lips. “Yes, gars are big, and there are other beasts I must shield against, too. All this would take much power. You must always search for the way to accomplish the task using the least amount of Han.”

She stroked her horse’s neck as she went on. “I keep the gars away not by repelling the beasts themselves, but by shielding against their blood flies. It’s much easier. If the flies can’t get through the shield, the gars won’t think there is anything worthwhile and so won’t come to us either. It uses little of my strength this way, yet achieves my aim.”

“Why didn’t you use this shield against the people here? Against the woman tonight?”