The Healer and the Hound
By Terri Botta
A Forbidden Spec side story
Rated: G
All around her the forest was breathing. She hadn’t been to the Fey in so long that she had forgotten what it was like to walk in a world were the Magic still lived, and she breathed deep in the clean, energized air. Here the trees had a different feel to them. They were alive in ways the human world could not even begin to understand, and their whispers were tendrils of thoughts that snaked their way into her mind.
She had a destination and she was headed for it, making her way through the woods towards the place where she hoped to find her quarry. Her brother in Immortality had told her of a litter of Moon Hounds that had been born, and she had come in search of them. The creatures were rare (and getting rarer) so anytime there was a successful birth it always caused tongues to wag.
She knew she was getting close to the den because she caught a glimpse of the male. He was slinking through the trees, keeping his eye on her and making sure she meant no harm to his family. He was a magnificent representative of his breed, his coat as black as the blackest night. He blended into the dark foliage almost completely and had she not seen the glint of his eyes, she never would have known that he was there.
Moon Hounds were either black or silver, each representing the two major stages of the moon: full and new. Every now and then a red one was born, but they were very rare indeed, and they were only born under an eclipse. She had only seen one red Moon Hound in all her long life and she doubted that she would ever see another.
The black made no sound and faded into the underbrush as soon as they met eyes. Everything in the Fey knew what she was and knew that she was a friend so there was no need for him to be concerned. He disappeared into the trees and she didn’t see him again.
The den was located next to a stream, dug deep into the side of a hill and protected on three sides. It was easily defended and she could see why the pair had chosen the place to whelp their pups. Not too many predators would challenge a full-grown Moon Hound, but ungainly youngsters could sometimes prove to be easy prey for something brave enough to risk getting ripped to shreds by the parents.
She saw the bitch and her litter the moment she cleared the trees. She was radiant, her silver coat glowing, her grey eyes belying her breeding. This one had bloodlines tracing all the way back to the kennels of the Huntress Herself. She was regal, a true blue blood among peasants.
Seven pups lounged around her, half-grown and all long limbs and mischief. She approached carefully as the bitch turned intelligent eyes her way, head cocked curiously while the pups swarmed around her, sniffing at her hands and clothing.
“My lady,” she greeted, kneeling and bowing to the adult.
The bitch huffed softly and relaxed, her body assuming a Sphinx position with her ears forward and listening.
“I would like to address your lovely children,” she said. “I am searching for a volunteer for a very special task.”
The bitch nodded and barked once, calling the pups to her side. They came bounding over, tumbling over each other in their enthusiasm until they all gathered by their mother.
There were four bitches and three dogs; four blacks and three silvers. All had the clear grey eyes of their breed, and any one of them would fit the task. But would any wish to accept her offer?
“I come to ask you if one of you would come with me. There is someone who is in desperate need of a guardian, and I can think of no better protector than a Moon Hound such as yourselves. He has been through a great deal and has suffered terribly. He needs someone to help him and keep him safe, both from the demons that haunt the mortal world and from himself.”
Seven pairs of eyes met hers and she knew that they were listening. She opened her mind and showed them Lestat. She told them everything, showing them how he had been trapped and tormented. She showed them Louis and the bond between them. She explained that Lestat needed a guardian who could sense when danger was near and could protect him from attacks. She showed them his love for dogs and his beloved Mojo who had died. She showed them it all, sparing no detail, in hopes that one of them would be moved by her heartfelt plea.
Moon Hounds
were swift, intelligent and practically immortal. One of them as Lestat’s Familiar
would suit perfectly, complementing Louis’s tempering
influence and giving the traumatized vampire a second rock to cling to. She
dearly prayed one of them would be interested. She knew that she could not stay
in
When she was finished her presentation, she looked at the youngsters, her hands open in askance.
“So I ask you, are any of you willing to take up this task? It will not be easy and there will be many challenges. It will be a lifelong commitment, but the rewards will be great. I can tell you that you will be well cared for and adored, and that your task will be vital to his survival. You will be an essential part of his life and very loved.”
The pups looked at her, their faces and minds oddly blank. She glanced at the bitch who returned her gaze calmly, but gave no hint as to what she thought of the proposition. Yes, becoming Lestat’s guardian was a very noble and prestigious position, but it was fraught with danger as well. No mother would want to see her child freely throw himself into the path of danger, but Moon Hounds were known for their fearlessness and loyalty.
Long moments passed and none of the Hounds moved. They looked at her, at their mother and at each other, but none stepped forward. Finally she sighed and bowed her head in defeat.
“Very well. I thank you for your time,” she said sadly, slowly rising to her feet.
It was disappointing, but she could not force any of them to accept the task. They were sentient beings capable of independent thought and will, and if they did not want to do it, then she could not make them. A Hound would have been ideal because of Lestat’s love for dogs, but if another Familiar needed to be chosen, then so be it.
She had almost made it to the trees when she heard a short yip behind her, and she turned just in time to see the largest of the silver dogs trotting towards her. He whined and sat at her feet, his mouth open and panting.
“You are willing to accept this task?” she asked, surprised.
He was breathtaking, the largest of the litter and obviously the boldest. He looked at her, his eyes laughing, and barked. She cast a questing eye to the bitch.
“My Lady, do you consent?”
The pup turned his head to look at his mother and whined softly. The bitch snorted and lowered her head. Her message was clear: ‘Do what you want.’
“No denying him, hm?” she commented.
The bitch sighed and looked away.
“I promise you that your son will be well cared for. He will want for nothing and Lestat will adore him until the end of time.”
The bitch closed her eyes and let out a long whine. The silver pup hurried over to his mother, avidly licking her face and groveling at her paws until she licked him back. Then he hopped up and ran three circles around the clearing, his body a silver streak, until he came skidding to a halt right in front of her.
“You’ve made your choice then?” she asked.
The silver pup barked in answer.
“Very well. I thank you for your bravery and generous heart.”
The pup smiled as only a Hound could do and preened at the stroke to his ego. Oh yes, this one would do nicely. She smiled.
“Let’s go then. I am sure that Lestat is eager to meet you.”
He leaped up joyfully and spun to stand at her side, looking up at her expectantly. She bid farewell to the bitch and the remaining pups, and led the silver from the clearing. Halfway to the Gateway to the mortal world, the black materialized out of the forest to face his son. The silver immediately lay down at his father’s feet and rolled to show his belly as the black took his throat in his massive jaws.
She said nothing, allowing the two to converse in their own language, and waited. Shortly thereafter, the black released his son and the pup rose to his feet, licking his father’s chin in submission and farewell. The black huffed once and licked his son on the muzzle, then turned and faded into the trees.
Once he was gone, they resumed their journey through the Fey, the silver pup bounding along joyfully until they reached the Gateway. There at the threshold between the two worlds, they paused to look into the swirling vortex, and the pup sniffed the air. His body then shimmered, morphing and changing shape.
Moon Hounds could not keep their ethereal, luminous form in the mortal world because it was too obvious that they were of Magical origins. For their own protection they often assumed the form of a large Greyhound or a Saluki in order to conceal themselves. It was quickly obvious, however, that this Hound had a very different image in mind.
As she watched, his coat turned a dark tan with black points, the fur growing thick and long, and his body lost its fleet, streamlined shape. Within moments he had assumed the exact likeness of Lestat’s deceased dog, Mojo, and he looked at her with liquid brown eyes that laughed and laughed at her surprise.
“Well, I can’t say that you aren’t ingenious,” she said, blinking as he thumped his tail at her.
The Moon Hound in Mojo’s image barked and jumped up enthusiastically.
“Now all you need is a name and I doubt Lestat will want to call you Mojo the Second.”
The Hound sat down, his pink tongue lolling out in amusement. Moon Hounds had no names in their language because each Hound’s ‘name’ was his individual scent. As such, they had no need for ‘names’ other than the scent they were born with.
“Any suggestions?” she asked.
The Hound sneezed and shook his head.
“Thank you,” she said drolly. “Well, Lestat will want you to have a noble name, a strong name.”
The Hound cocked his head and posed.
“And perhaps it would be good for you to have a name that hints at your true purpose.”
The Hound all but shrugged, saying that he really didn’t care.
“Well, you don’t want a fru-fru name like Fluffy, do you?” she teased.
The Hound groaned and nipped at her heel in distaste.
“Alright. Alright,” she conceded, laughing. “No Fluffy. Janus is the Roman name for the Guardian of doors.”
The Hound snorted.
“What about Asim? It means Protector.”
He didn’t seem to like that name either.
She studied him carefully. He was strong and bold, his body radiating power. Even in Mojo’s likeness, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he was special. He needed a name to suit his beauty and his strength.
“Argus means vigilant guardian in Greek. It can also mean bright. Both, I believe, suit you,” she offered.
The Hound looked pensive for a moment then barked once in agreement.
“Argus it is.”
Decision made, the Hound jumped up and faced the Gateway expectantly.
“Let’s go meet your new charge,” she said as she placed one hand on his strong shoulder and walked forward, passing over the threshold to the mortal world.
FIN