SV-RPG Ch 3.1: A friend like no other

“I don’t know.” Mac glanced across the water to the torn grass. Four limp lupine bodies lay sprawled where Ossie had trampled them to death, broken jaws hanging loose, limbs splayed in unnatural ways. Their red blood seeped into the ground, a dread offering to the gods.

Touching Kan’s head gently, Mac said, “Come on, let’s get out of the water.”

Both fenwolf and Nordanner eased out of the slow-moving river as if they had aged a hundred years in the brief moment of battle. In his satchel, Bran snored on, blissfully unaware. They moved over to a small copse of trees, where Mac gently lowered Bran’s satchel to the ground. She left the flap slightly closed—just enough to shade his eyes from the sun. In the cool shadows of the surrounding trees, Mac stripped Ossie of her tack and set everything to the side, checking the mare thoroughly as she did so. Unlike Kanorlan, Ossie was relatively unscathed. She had several bite marks along her legs and across her broad chest that were already beginning to clot.

Those could wait. Kan’s could not.

Working quickly, Mac emptied every saddlebag of its precious contents, searching for the healing potions. Kan lay on his side, panting heavily. Blood oozed from a dozen or more cuts across his chest, flanks, and face.

“It’s going to be all right, Kan,” Mac murmured, sifting through the various vials and other gear. “We’ll get you healed up.”

Kan merely whined.

“Here.” Ossie pressed a slim purple vial into Mac’s searching hand.

Murmuring her thanks, Mac swiftly uncorked the vial and reached for Kanorlan’s head. The big blue fenwolf’s skin shivered at her touch. Mac tried to be gentle as she turned his muzzle toward her, but she couldn’t avoid the thin gashes across his strong jaws. “You need to roll over, Kan,” Mac said, her voice catching. She tried to keep her emotions in check, but the sight of Kanorlan bleeding all over the summer grass, was nearly too much to handle. Kanorlan had been a gift to Mac on her tenth birthday—one of two orphan pups her father had found in the woods, still pawing at their dead mother’s decaying body. After loading Kan into a saddlebag on his horse, Mac’s father had turned back around to find that Kan’s sister had disappeared into the undergrowth. Caleb Hansen had searched as long as he could for the red-furred female, but he had to turn back. And ever since Caleb had placed the squirming blue bundle of fur into his daughter’s lap, Mac’s first and best friend was Kanorlan.

“Kan, roll,” Mac pleaded. A tear slipped from her eye and splashed onto the ground beside the fenwolf’s muzzle. Ossie nudged Mac’s shoulder gently, resting her chin there.

“Hurts,” the big blue male hissed, his purple eyes screwed tightly shut. His flanks shivered as a spasm of pain ran through his body.

A sob caught in Mac’s throat. “Roll over, Kan. I need to give you this potion.”

One pain-crazed eye opened up—barely. It closed just as quickly. Mac shifted backwards, colliding with Ossie’s solid form. The Nordanner mare whuffed gently, her breath stirring Mac’s hair.

Before she sat on a horse for the first time, Mac had ridden on Kanorlan’s strong back. The two of them had raced across the old Hansen family farmland, simply exploring everything that could be seen with their two pairs of eyes. Soon, Mac grew too big to ride Kan, so they continued exploring with Mac astride a horse.

Their first real adventure had been the death of their old world—a journey across time and space, with trials Mac could never have imagined.

And dragons, too.

Since that day, Mac had many equine partners as her parents’ new farm prospered, but the one constant was always Kanorlan. Running right by her side, no matter what. Ah, gods! Biting her knuckle, Mac stared at Kanorlan’s face, trying to figure out how to give him the healing potion without losing a precious drop.

“I can move him,” Ossie suggested quietly.

“No—don’t.” Mac placed a restraining hand on the mare’s foreleg, stalling her. “You might injure him beyond the powers of the potion.”

Ossie shifted, taking a step back. She snorted and looked away.

“I … can … do it.”

Mac turned to see Kanorlan rolling to his belly. The big blue fenwolf groaned as he moved, slowly, so very slowly. As if every limb had a massive weight attached to it.

Working quickly, Mac slipped the mouth of the vial between Kan’s cracked teeth, tilting it carefully so that a few drops spilled out onto his tongue. Kan swallowed reflexively, his blood-stained throat bobbing with the effort.

Drop by drop, the purple potion slid its way down Kanorlan’s throat. As they neared the dregs, Kan snatched the vial from Mac’s hand and, holding it tightly between his teeth, tipped his head back, letting the remnants pour down his throat. Spitting out the vial, Kan shook his head, cut ears twitching as if flies buzzed around their ragged edges.

A slight shimmer spread along his body, from the tips of his gnawed ears to the end of his thick tail. One by one, the great, gaping wounds sealed themselves, leaving scarred and furless flesh behind. Kan grimaced as several broken teeth popped free of his jaws, claws digging into the dirt as new ones emerged. The ragged tip of his ear grew back; his eyes opened, clean and clear purple.

Drawing a deep breath, Kanorlan looked up at Mac and Ossie. “Well,” he said quietly, “I’d rather not go through that again.”

With a ragged sob, Mac threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his bloodied fur. Kan pressed his muzzle against her back and looked up at Ossie. The dunalino mare favored him an equine smile and touched her nose to his.

“Welcome back,” Ossie murmured. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Kan huffed in agreement.