The Princess and the Horse (The Princess and the Hound) Read online

  But there came a human to the forest, a male who was dressed finely, and did not ride a horse for the hunt. He had a wide nose and cheeks that looked as though they had been burned red, and he was heavily set. He wore a sword at his side and at the sight of the first hound in the pack, he took it out and began to swing it about wildly. The pack scattered.

  Except for Fierce, who felt no fear of the human.

  He stared at her. “Little hound,” he said. “You think you are strong?”

  Fierce curled her lip up at him and let out a low growl.

  “The end of all is coming and you know nothing about it. All of you creatures expect to continue living. You expect us to help you, to protect you against that which lurks beneath this world. And what thanks do we get from you? You snarl at us and fight us. You ought to give yourselves up to us with thanksgiving.”

  At the moment, all she understood was that he thought he was better than she was, and that he was a human, like the woman who had taken her mother away. Like the woman her mother had become.

  She leaped at him.

  He drew out his sword and she fell to the side to avoid it.

  “You are mine,” the man said. “All animals are mine. That is the price for keeping the shapeless Xaon away from the Naon.”

  Fierce did not understand the words he spoke to her, but she remembered them, and pieced them together later, from bits and pieces she heard from both humans and animals. The Naon was life itself, and Xaon was its opposite.

  The man swung the sword again.

  Fierce dived under it.

  The man laughed, but with no sense of amusement. He was not happy. He seemed a man possessed, like a creature cornered and lashing out in desperation. But there was nothing that Fierce could see that was threatening him.

  He stabbed at her again.

  She moved quickly, but not quickly enough. The sword grazed her side and she smelled the tang of her own blood.

  If she died here and now, she knew what would happen. Crows and ravens and other carrion eaters would feed on her flesh. Then the beetles and ants and insects would eat her bones. She would return to the forest, enriching the dirt with her blood. She knew the cycle of life, having seen it many times before. She was not afraid.

  But she was not ready for death yet.

  The human held the sword high, and with gleaming eyes, aimed for her again.

  Instead of trying to evade him, Fierce moved the other way, toward the human.

  His eyes widened and his hands began to tremble.

  That was exactly what Fierce needed, so that when her teeth met the blade of the sword, there was just enough give in its hold that she could bite on it and pull it out of the human’s grasp.

  He stared first at her, and then at his own hands. He whispered something to himself and there was a distinct smell of fear. Then the human held up his hands and began to step away from her.

  Fierce did not drop the sword. The taste of the steel in her mouth was sweet, the reminder of her triumph.

  The human fled and she let him go.

  Then she carried the sword back to the pack’s cave. She only thought that she did not want to leave it in the forest for the human to come back and retrieve. It did not belong to him any longer, and it did not belong to any other animal in the forest. She did not want it herself, because it was human, but she did not want to lose it, either.

  When her pack saw not only that she had survived the fight with the human, but had returned with his sword, they gave her a new kind of respect. It was not warmth, and they did not include her in the pack. But all teasing of Fierce was now at an end. They called her by her proper name, and this time they meant it.

  But the sword had brought with it bad dreams, of a dark emptiness with hidden creatures lurking within. Fierce’s hunting became even wilder than it had been before, and her pack grew fat on her kills. And still the dreams were with her, and she knew that it was the fault of the human, of all the humans.

  Chapter Two:

  Fierce kept careful watch in the forest for any humans that came into it after that. She chased more than one away, but a full turn of seasons after she had taken the sword, she came across a female human who stood her ground at the sight of the pack. Dark-haired and tall, she reminded Fierce of her mother. Not because of her appearance, but because of the wild and distant expression on her face.

  The rest of the pack had already retreated back into the thickest part of the forest, leaving Fierce to deal with the human as she had before. But Fierce hesitated for one long moment, taking in the strange menagerie of animals surrounding the woman. How did she keep so many animals with her, when she smelled so oddly and did not seem to keep them in chains as so many humans did?

  To one side of the woman, there was a large cat with a hairy mane like a burst of sunlight around its head. On the other side was a creature like a horse but striped black and white, and then a four-legged herd animal with double curved horns, both carrying packs like a mule.

  There were other, smaller animals that seemed as desperate as the woman, though they kept a distance from her as if they did not trust her. Bird fluttered around behind the animals, not the woman, with elaborate plumages, though as a hound Fierce could not see the colors clearly.

  The woman held herself like a lead female, as if she were used to being obeyed without question. And despite the fear Fierce had felt at first, when she met the woman’s eyes, Fierce thought she saw something of herself there. Old pain never healed, loneliness, strength, determination, and even a hint of longing—for what Fierce could not tell.

  “You,” said the woman, with a hand outstretched. “Come here. I command it.”

  Suddenly, Fierce could see the magic in the woman shimmering like waves of heat. So strong, like a wind tunnel that sucked into it trees and dirt and animals. She could not escape.

  Fierce trembled, motionless, and could feel her heart beating against her ribs. The fur around her head was wet with sweat and it dripped down her back to her paws, making her feel chilled enough to shiver, though it was spring.

  “You know this forest, do you not?” the woman asked.

  Fierce understood more the tone of the woman’s voice than the human words, but she nodded as humans nod.

  “I will make you my guide,” said the woman. “It is an honor not to be refused.” She bent forward just a little and touched Fierce on the neck, behind her ears. Her fingers were cold and they seemed to pinch at Fierce’s hound fur.

  But then the woman stepped back and the pinching feeling continued. Fierce realized that it was the magic the woman had control of, cutting through her skin and entering her flesh.

  Fierce could feel the cold pressure traveling down the length of her spine to her tail, and to each paw. It was a sharp pain, and she whimpered softly.

  She could feel her tail being pulled back into her spine, and then her hind legs grew longer. Her paws lost their claws. She grew long, spongy pads on the ends of her paws, pale and hairless.

  Her nose felt as if it had been smashed. Her ears drooped. She breathed in air, but it tasted wrong. Her tongue would not work properly to clean her mouth.

  Then she began to shake as if it were in the middle of winter and she had been caught in a flood of the river, trying to warm herself instinctively, though there was no hope any hound could survive that.

  But the woman held Fierce’s gaze and seemed to lend her strength to get through the final wave of magic.

  When it was gone, Fierce felt sore and strange. She knew that her body had changed, but she could not yet bear to look at it. She felt stretched, taller, and more unbalanced than before. She was on all fours, but she knew that she no longer belonged that way. She twisted to the side and felt the ground meet her backside. She was staring up into the sky, into the tops of trees she had never bothered to look at before.

  There was no more pain. She took a breath, and then another. She closed her eyes and spoke silently to herself: I am a hound, a
nd I will always be a hound.

  She would not be like her mother, no matter what this wild magic did to her.

  “Speak,” said the woman. “Tell me your name or I shall give you one that pleases me.”

  “F—fierce,” she got out, though she thought her voice sounded high-pitched and strained. All those years of practice to learn a howl good enough to join the pack at the first sign of the full moon—useless in this new throat.

  I will howl again, she promised herself. It was the only way she could keep sane.

  “Fierce. Yes. A good name for you,” said the woman. “I have never seen an animal meet my eyes as you did. I am Princess Jaleel and I need your help. I am looking for a horse. A great, black horse who belongs to me, though he has been long lost. Have you seen any horses like that here in your forest?”

  A horse? That was all the princess cared about?

  Fierce had seen many horses in her time in the forest, but it was always with a human on their backs. The humans thought they owned the horses, but horses were neither wild nor tame animals. They often lived with humans, but even so, they did not take on their smell or their talk. They were beautiful, and even with a human on them, it seemed to Fierce as though the horses had what they wanted. They ran free, as swiftly as they pleased, and if the humans wished to come along, they could.

  “He is black as night, with a bluish sheen if he is seen in daylight. He is tall.” The princess held a hand up to the top of her own head to show how tall. “He smells like heat and anger and speed and the south. Have you seen him?”

  “No,” Fierce got out in the language of humans. A terrible language, all light sounds that had no hint of bite to them, with hisses like a snake added in.

  It must be because a human’s tongue was so small. It was completely useless at anything. Fierce looked at the ground and wondered how she could use it to suck marrow from the bones of a downed doe or to take up ants from a hollow log. She did not like to eat ants, but there were times in the past that she had had no choice, and was glad that she could at least survive to hope for better meat another day.

  “Ah, well, you will show me all the places that he might be hidden here.”

  Fierce thought that she would be a much better guide through the forest as a hound. “Please,” she said, just a hint of pleading in her voice. She looked down at herself, and held out one of her paws, now turned into a smooth, hairless set of fingers. She wanted to be herself again, and live in the forest, and think only of forest things, and her pack.

  “None of that,” snapped the princess imperiously. “I have chosen for you a form that pleases me. You look well as a human and I have need of a female companion. Now, let us get you dressed and you may join the others who follow me happily, wherever I go next.”

  Fierce looked at the other animals surrounding the princess differently now. The wariness was understandable, if they had been changed into animals from some other form, humans perhaps. But how could they leave her, if they ever wished to become themselves again?

  The princess continued: “Have you not always wished to see more of the world than this one little forest? If my horse is not here, we will seek him out elsewhere. We will see every place there is to see. Forest, town, mountain, platte, tundra, and more. Think of that. You deserve to be more than a hound at my side.”

  Even if she did not wish to be?

  “You see, when I looked into your eyes for the first time, I saw intelligence in them like no other. And I have been lonely for some time. A young woman needs another young woman to laugh and talk and gossip over and to give advice on beauty and love,” said the princess.

  Fierce looked down at herself and forced herself to take in every detail of her new human form. She was a woman fully grown, with four limbs that seemed different, but plump and useless. She hated the lack of claws and the vulnerability of her skin, so pale and thin. If an animal attacked this human body, how could she defend herself? Even her teeth were too flat to tear flesh. She could feel them as she ran her tongue around her mouth. Useless.

  And she could not run as fast on two legs as she had on four, she was sure. Not until she had much more practice, and likely not even then. The forest floor hurt her feet even before she had walked on it. The stones cut into the flesh between her toes.

  “You will need something to wear. Let me see.” The princess went to one of the pack animals and opened a box. She shook out of it a gown of gold and yellow and taupe with designs woven into the fabric itself like birds’ wings all in a row.

  “Take this.” She walked toward Fierce and handed her the gown.

  Fierce had to take a moment to understand how to put it on. It looked terribly uncomfortable. Why would anyone wish to be human, if it meant wearing such things?

  “It will look good on you, I think. It was made for me many years ago, when I was a princess in the south. But such styles never go out of fashion.”

  The gown smelled musty and the fabric felt stiff and strange to Fierce’s touch. She pulled it over her head and spread it out over her stomach and thighs. It fell to her ankles and seemed too long to allow her to run well or even walk comfortably.

  The princess, Fierce noticed, did not wear a gown at all, but an embroidered jacket in the purple color of royalty and a shorter, more maneuverable split skirt that would also keep her warm.

  Fierce bowed her head to the princess, hating it as much as she had with her pack. She told herself she had only to find a chance for freedom, and leap at it as she had before, with the sword.

  “The forest awaits,” said Princess Jaleel.

  Fierce led the princess through the forest, acre by acre, past every cave she knew of, and every fallen tree and copse.

  There was no black horse.

  The princess was disappointed that evening as the whole company prepared to rest for the night. The princess built a fire and the red and orange flames made her face seem bright and variable, as if she could change every second from one creature to the next, from human to hare to snake or wildebeest.

  She told Fierce the story of the black horse and of Lord Dashto who had tried to trick her into taking back a horse that was not her own.

  “I will find my own horse,” the princess insisted. “No matter how long it takes.”

  But the smell of her was still dangerous and empty, and in the night, Fierce dreamed again of a deep emptiness waiting to devour her in the dark.

  Chapter Three:

  In the morning, Fierce woke and tried to get to all fours. She fell before she could take two steps. Her legs were too long and she had no tail to sway this way and that and keep the line of her back straight.

  She tasted the dirt of the forest in her mouth and slowly turned over. She had forgotten she was a human. She sniffed the air and could smell the ashes and smoke that meant humans. She could smell nothing else. Her nose was so small and useless. She put a hand to it and felt how tiny it was, how dry.

  Then she stared at her fingernails, broken and dirty. She clawed at the dirt as if to dig something up beneath it. She began to bleed, and pulled back one hand to put it into her mouth for soothing. At least that was one thing that remained the same.

  The sound of the hounds came closer. Fierce recognized the section of the forest before her. There was a trio of scrub pines against a mound, and a meadow of clover just beyond that. The smell of that clover had once been her favorite thing about this place, but now she was too far away to even feel a prickle of interest. And she dared not try to run to it.

  Then the hounds were near enough for her to see them, the whole pack. Her pack.

  Fire, who had been burned as a young hound. Wind, who made the sound of it when he ran. Eagle Eyes, the lead male, whose sharp eyes could see what no one else could. Swimmer, who loved the water.

  Cut-nose and her sister, White Tail. Fierce had never liked either of them, but she missed how they had snapped at each other. And Cruel, the lead female who had left her mark on Fierce’s neck more
than once in the past. Claws and Temper did simply what Cruel told them to do. Fierce should not hold it against them.

  Whatever Fierce’s problems with them, they were her pack and she did not know when she would ever see them again. She said a silent farewell to them as they passed, thinking that they would not mourn her at all.

  Then she found her way to her feet slowly, inch by inch. She looked toward the princess’s simple canvas tent, but it was quiet.

  The large cat with a mane slept outside the tent, curled into itself. Fierce could see it open an eye and stare at her, but then it turned over and seemed to sleep once more. The white and black striped animal was asleep on its feet, head tucked into its shoulder. The curved-horns creature moved sluggishly toward the stream.

  It was full day before the princess came out of her tent. She snapped her fingers at the cat, which immediately came to her side so that she could untangle its mane. She sent Fierce to get her water bag filled at the stream, and then told her to make some breakfast.

  Fierce was utterly confused. If the princess wanted to eat, why did she not simply find a root and dig for it, or spear a fish? Why not hunt for herself?

  At last, Fierce brought her a fish she had snatched from the stream.

  “I do not want it raw,” she said scathingly. “Cook it over the fire. And cut off the head and tail.”

  She returned to her tent while Fierce worked at biting off the head of the fish with her blunt human teeth. She ate it while she worked, for she would never have considered throwing any part of the fish away. She chewed on the tail, and held the fish over the fire by its fins as it sizzled and cooked. Her hands were uncomfortably warm, but it was not until she took them away from the fire that she saw how they had blistered and burned just as the fish had.

  “Breakfast,” said Fierce carefully, wanting to make sure that she got the word right.