Page 104 of Blacktail

“Sariel of the Moon looked up at the Forest God, weeping tears of blood.

“My lord snarled then,” Chester said. “I thought Sariel’s end had come. I’m pretty sure Sariel thought so, too. I’m surprised he managed to get the words out, so great was his fear. But he did speak.

“ ‘No! Wait! You are mistaken! I do not know whom you speak of, but—’

“Blacktail interrupted him with another bark, louder this time. More of the throng collapsed to their knees. A few of them fell dead upon the ground. For a moment I thought Sariel might die as well, but when my lord nipped him, he raised his head, opened his eyes. ‘Your sins against me are vile,’ Blacktail growled, ‘but none so vile as this. When your crusade of infidels moved to spread their infection across the ocean to new lands, moved to bring horror and death to the faithful of the new world, all beasts knew what was to come. All beasts knew, and despaired. All save one. One stood against them. One knew the filth that worshipped you for the doom that they were. Even so, that one would not yield.’

“Blacktail moved very close to Sariel then, and spoke softly, saying, ‘And you…you do not even remember his name.’ Then he lifted his head and called out to the sky, ‘Come forth, Karakaa.’ ”

Chester paused. “Do you know that name? Know of whom he speaks?” he asked the Old Kitty Mother.

“Oh yes,” she said. “I carry the memory of Karakaa in my heart. I shared it with someone once, not long ago—at least, not long in the scheme of things.” She purred. “I am pleased to hear that he remembered it as well.”

“The Forest God forgets nothing,” Chester said. “He will not forsake his servants.”

“Go on.” She twitched her tail. “Please.”

“A moment later the crow Karakaa flew out from the mists. The angels in the sky made way for him, even though they must have known what was to come. I wonder at that,” Chester said.

“That’s not what you would have done?”

“Well…no. Even when it’s hopeless, you always go down fighting. Always. But that’s not what I meant. I wonder if He might have spared some of them, if they had…I don’t know. Done something.”

“Perhaps,” the Old Kitty Mother said.

“But the angels did not fight. Karakaa soared over the fields. When he was above the center of the assembled masses, he spoke as he had spoken over the village that long-ago day that saw the end of his life.

“But Karakaa’s apostasy was ended. This time he did not speak in the tongue of demons. Now he spoke the word that the Forest God had taught him. The word rang out across the field. When silence came again, all was emptiness in the sky above and the fields below. The armies of heaven were gone. I cannot say where. Blacktail stood alone before the gate of the Kingdom of Heaven, and Karakaa soared alone in the sky above.

“ ‘Go now,’ Blacktail said to Karakaa. ‘Make your way to my home. Be welcome there. What I will do next is not for your eyes.’ Karakaa flew back into the mists and was gone.

“ ‘Will you stay?’ he asked me. I told him that I would, if he would have me. My lord wagged his tail then. ‘I thought you might,’ he said. ‘I had a feeling about you. Very well. You may stay. But approach no closer.’

“I told him that I would not. Blacktail walked up to the great shining gate and sniffed it. He barked once, like a crack of thunder. The gate crumbled before him, and he entered. Inside it was…hard to describe. I have no words. It was not a place of men, but nor was it a place of beasts. I saw little of what came next. But in the way of dreams, I knew that He was making His way to the heart of this place, and the one who remained there.

“I waited outside for what seemed a very long time, or perhaps not so long. Again, it is difficult to say. Then, just before I woke, I heard my lord.”

“What did he say?”

“He did not speak. Instead he made the sound I heard from him before, the night he first woke, the night of the fire. It is his cry of war, I think…a terrible sound, the worst sound that anyone ever heard, the worst sound that ever could be heard. It was not a sound of beasts. Beasts could not make that sound.”

“Perhaps one day we will be able,” said the Old Kitty Mother. “One day. And then God will no longer be alone. What happened next?”

Chester looked away, wry and embarrassed. “I, ah, well…as with the time before, my strength began to fail.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said. “Really.”

Chester swished his tail. His puppies stared at him silent and awestruck. “Right before I fell away from myself…before I woke, or slept, or died, I heard the enemy whom my lord had set himself against scream. But once only. After that…” He paused. “The war is ended, I think.”

The Old Kitty Mother looked to the sky. No moon hung there. It disappeared not long after all—well, most—of the two-legs died off. Mercy was still here with her Babykins, and a few others around the world. But the moon was gone. She had wondered about that. Well, she thought, this explains a great deal.

“What do you make of it?” Chester asked.

She sighed and ran her tongue over the weathered nub of her last remaining fang. “I think that the will of the Forest God has been done. It is not for us to guess at such things.” After a long pause, she added, “Not that we can help it, of course. Truth to tell, I often wish he was more forthcoming. I’ve built my life around clever guesses, but the taste of them is growing a bit sour.”

“Mrrr,” Chester growled. “Then I will think no more on it. I have learned courage, but I fear wisdom will be forever beyond me. If the likes of you cannot guess at it, then the likes of me will never know.”

“Ahh, but wisdom is its own punishment,” she said.