Hunger Pains
By Vicki McElfres [Author Info]
Nachtal leaned against the tree trunk and sighed. The town below him bustled with life, yet he didn't dare venture near the place. He smiled and stared at a dark-skinned hand. At least in this form, he thought. He gazed down on the village again and grinned. His stomach growled, and he patted it consolingly. "I'll eat well tonight." He stood and darted into the trees, his spirit a little lighter.
He ran into his makeshift dwelling of branches and leaves. A screech owl woke from its dozing and squawked at his sudden appearance. "Oh hush, Javi. It's only me. I'll bring you a nice tidbit." The owl just stared at him, then closed its eyes and resumed its dozing.
He unbuckled his sword belt and pulled the eagle feathers from his hair, then stashed them under his bedding. He pushed his stark, white hair out of his face and closed his eyes. Think dog. Four legs, bushy tail, elongated nose. Magic sparkled in the air around him, and he felt his spine grow shorter. His nose grew longer, and he was assaulted by a myriad of odors. His hearing sharpened as well. He lost his color vision, but he didn't care. The change hurt, but the pain faded quickly. He shook himself and barked once, disturbing the owl again, then trotted towards the village.
The smell nearly drove him away. Unwashed bodies, stale urine, rancid meat, and wood smoke nauseated him. He coughed once and gagged. Then his stomach growled again, reminding him he'd not eaten in at least a day. Any hot, fresh food sounded better than half-cooked rabbit or squirrel and whatever fruit and tubers he could scrounge. He sneezed and forced himself to ignore the odor.
A new scent made its way over the stench. Fresh bread. Had he been in his elven form, he would have grinned. He'd not had bread in months. He started towards the scent, mouth watering.
He found the little bakery easily and situated himself at the doorstep. He barked and waited, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Humans seemed to have a weakness for animals, especially the children. He barked again, and the door opened. A woman appeared, and he wagged his tail in what he hoped was a friendly gesture.
"Get away, mangy cur!" She made shooing motions with her hands.
Nachtal whined, not really understanding what the woman was saying. His command of the humans' language was very poor. He barked again, and the woman disappeared into the building. His stomach growled, and he stood, tail wagging, anticipating his meal. The woman reappeared, brandishing a broom.
"Away with you!" She swung the broom at him, and he scampered out of the way.
He barked again, thinking to explain himself, but he'd forgotten that he couldn't speak. She swung at him again, and he finally shuffled off, tail drooping.
I could have gotten this reaction as myself. Evidently, dogs are no more welcome than dark elves. The smell of freshly cooked meat wafted towards him. One more try. He trotted off towards the smell. He supposed the long, narrow building was an inn. A busy one, judging from the number of people going in and out. His stomach growled and saliva dripped from his tongue. He poked his head in the door. People sat at long trestle tables, hunched over plates of steaming stew. Nachtal slipped inside and crawled under a table. A crust of bread fell on the floor, and he gobbled it up. He whined and hoped someone else would drop a crust or dump an entire plate of stew. The crust had only sharpened his hunger.
A spoon clattered to the floor, and a head poked under the table. "Here now," said the person. Nachtal wasn't sure if it was a man or a woman. He cringed. "What's this?" A hand followed the head and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. "Berl! Ye've got vermin in your tavern."
"What's that you say?"
"I said ye've got vermin. Lookee what I found hidin' under the table."
A scrawny, balding man approached Nachtal and scowled. "Where'd that come from?"
"Under the table. Beggin' for scraps."
"Kick him out in the street."
"A pity," said the person holding him. "This black fur would make a fine pelt. Maybe I'll kill him and sell the hide."
"Whatever you want, Eric. Just get him out of here."
Nachtal's command of the language was limited, but he caught the word kill easily enough. He whined and tried to shake loose of the man's grasp.
"Here now!" A hand thumped down between Nachtal's ears, and he yelped. "Stop that!"
Spots danced in front of his eyes, but he struggled harder. A growl escaped his lips, and he snapped at his captor.
"Stop that!"
The hand thumped down again, and a kick sent him sprawling. He got to his feet and shook. His head ached, and he was certain he'd felt a couple of his ribs crack when he'd been kicked. The man advanced, and he bared his teeth.
"Nice doggy. Come on now, I just want to take you home."
Nachtal's ears perked forward at the mention of home. He took a step towards the man. Maybe he'd misunderstood. The hand reached for him again, and this time he didn't resist.
"That's a good dog." A knife flashed in the light.
"Take it outside, Eric!"
"Just getting a little respect."
Nachtal growled when he saw the knife and snapped at the hand holding it. He twisted and managed to break the man's hold again, tearing a handful of fur from his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two more men advancing. Confused, he tried to dart away, but the man blocked his path. Repeatedly. He growled. If he wanted to leave with his life, he had only one option. He backed up a few paces, and concentrated, willing his own form back. Dark skin, white hair, medium frame. Beyond the pain, he heard confused shouts and ignored them. At last, change complete, he stared at the stunned faces of the patrons. He started towards the door, hoping he'd surprised them enough to get there. Unarmed, he felt naked.
He was halfway to the door, when one of the occupants recovered enough to shout, "Drow!"
Nachtal froze and held his arms wide. He summoned his limited command of the language and tried to think of the word for friend. Unfortunately, he quickly realized he understood more of the language than he spoke. The only word he could think of was "kill," and that certainly wouldn't help him escape. A few of the patrons scooped up heavy cudgels and advanced towards him. He backed up a step, considering his options. He didn't have time for another change. He glanced at the door. No one had blocked it yet. If I can get over the table . . .
"I'll get him," Eric said and waved the knife.
Nachtal scowled and with a wave of his hand sent the knife skittering across the floor. Then he turned at leapt onto the table, scattering the dumbfounded men. He jumped off the table and sprinted for the door. He flung it open, startling a fat man who stank of whiskey. "I apologize," he said in his own language. "I did not intend to frighten you." Then he turned and sprinted for the edge of town.
He didn't bother to change again, preferring to get as far from the town as possible. A fool I was to think I could find anything here. If I'm captured or killed, I deserve the fate. Perhaps I was a fool to leave . . . He pulled his thoughts away from the memories of his dark city, filled with the darker hearts of his own people. He was free now. A pity freedom doesn't come with a full stomach. He sighed. He had snares to set before dark.
He darted back the way he'd entered the town, ignoring the angry shouts of "Drow!" behind him. Something splatted onto the ground beside him. He slowed and risked a peek, and a rock clipped his shoulder. He winced and picked up his pace.
He relaxed once inside the shelter of the forest and stopped to look down on the town. Several townsmen had already gathered at the edge, clutching make-shift weapons. Nachtal sighed and loped towards his little shelter. He would get no food or rest this night.
Javi screeched when he approached. "It's only me. No need to get so excited." He reached under the bedding and retreived his swordbelt, buckling it with a swift motion. He tied his feathers back in his hair and rolled the bedding. "Time to move, Javi." The owl hooted in protest. Nachtal smiled. "Time to go. This is no place for us." He hoisted the bedding over his shoulder, picked up his pack, then collapsed the supports on his shelter, leaving behind no trace it had even existed. Javi screeched and settled on Nachtal's shoulder. "We'll find someplace, Javi." The owl made soft noises and nipped his ear. Nachtal smiled, and prepared himself for another town, one where the damning cries of "Drow!" wouldn't follow him. He scratched Javi's head, and then with a faint smile, disappeared into the darkness of the forest.
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Copyright © 1999 by Vicki McElfres. This material may be distributed only subject to the terms and conditions set forth in the Open Publication License, v.04 1998 or later (the latest version is presently available at http://www.opencontent.org/openpub/).
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