Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I take a step back, running into Valmir. He puts his arms around me as I cry harder.
Makana sits where I've released him, hunched into a fluffy ball. His nose works, quivering, and he blinks great big eyes at me.
"Go on," I encourage softly, tears clogging my voice. "You're free."
The two-fang remains right where he is. He doesn't move an inch. Just sits in the snow and trembles.
Some of my tears dry and I wipe my face. "Maybe we're confusing him," I say to Valmir. "Let's back away and give him space."
We retreat a few steps and I cling to Valmir's hand as we watch the two-fang a short distance away. I'm mentally encouraging Makana to explore his surroundings, to see what a good spot we've picked for him. To go find himself a nice burrow and enjoy his newfound freedom.
Instead, he sits there.
And sits there.
And sits.
He's not looking over at us, but his hunched posture makes me feel as if I've somehow betrayed him. He's not happy.
"I don't understand," I say to Valmir. "What do we do?"
He shrugs, his tail thrashing behind him. "We can leave him behind. He'll eventually figure it out."
"Or a predator will eat him."
"Or that." He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. "Or you go get him and we bring him back with us."
I bite my lip. That's what I want, but it feels wrong. "He's a wild animal. He's supposed to be free."
"He's a wild animal, true. But most wild animals die when a leg is broken. You took him into camp and gave him a soft life full of warmth and all his favorite foods. Maybe he doesn't want to be wild anymore."
I'm tempted to start crying again. "I broke him."
"You didn't break him. You were kind to him. Maybe he's realized that the life he he had isn't as good as the one you showed him." Valmir brushes his fingers over my cheek, wiping away the wetness there. His expression is tender as he gazes down at me. "Maybe he's not moving because he's secretly hoping you'll come get him again."
I sniffle. "Is this some weird parallel allegory to you and me?"
His whiskers twitch. "I don't understand half the words you just said."
Watery laughter bubbles out of me. "Right." I wipe my face again. "Okay. Let me try again and see if I can get him to move. We have to at least try."
He nods and moves a few steps farther away, sitting on his haunches and watching. Somehow, I know that whatever happens next, Valmir is okay with it. He's showing silent support and not judging, and I'm so grateful for that.
I break a few leaves off the nearest bush and wipe the ice away. I set the leaf down next to Makana. "Here you go, little one. Look at how fresh all this food is. Don't you want to eat it?"
He remains huddled where he is, uninterested in the food.
Biting back a small sigh, I pick him up, intending to move him nearer to the bush. The moment my hands sink into his fur, he makes a happy grunting noise and tries to burrow against my arms. Against my better judgment, I tuck him against my chest, and I'm immediately rewarded with more content little noises and his cold nose against my neck. "I definitely broke him," I tell Valmir. "He's spoiled now."
"Your words are miserable, but you sound happy." He's smiling at me.
I run my fingers through Makana's coat. "I am. I shouldn't be, but I love this dumb little guy. I should want what's best for him, but I love that he wants to go home with me. Is that wrong?"
"Some animals don't have good survival instincts," Valmir comments. "Remember that this one wandered right into a trap that was designed to kill him instantly and he couldn't even do that right. You might be saving him from a very brief life as a snow-cat snack."
Maybe he's got a point. I continue petting Makana, feeling like the worst guardian ever. The goal is to rehabilitate and let go, not keep for my own selfish wants. But maybe it is like Valmir says and Makana has a terrible survival instinct. Maybe I'm doing him a favor taking him home with me and keeping him fat and happy and warm. Isn't that what a guardian does? I hug my pet close.
"Are we done crying now?" Valmir asks, his tone bored.
"Oh, hush you." I smile into Makana's fur. Valmir might be pretending to be annoyed, but I know how much my crying bugs him. "You're just grumpy that you had to come all this way with me for nothing."
"It wasn't for nothing. It answered many questions...not all of them about him." He points at Makana, and there's a strange lightness in his expression. "And do you think I'm going to complain about leaving camp to spend time alone with you? Not hardly." He tilts his head, indicating the direction of the beach. "Want to do a long walk home or want to head to the nearest hunter cave for the night?"