13 May 2012
I was awoken the next morning after a good night's sleep by my félix, Buttons. He was a large wildcat, rescued from certain death in one of my very first missions. His mother had been terrorising (and eating) the local sheep population, so I had to dispatch her with my bow and arrow at her den. I crawled inside and found a litter of cubs all curled up into a ball, and barely a week old. I took pity on them, as they would definitely not survive now their main source of food was now gone, so I decided to save one of them. I was just leaning over to grab the largest one, when a little one, barely more than a fuzzball with claws, suddenly woke up and grabbed the buttons on my leather jacket that I had on, and started ripping it to bits. I quickly had to take the jacket off, but I saw the funny side and kept him instead. A couple of years later, Buttons had matured into a formidable fighting force, able to take down most predators with a single swipe of his claws. But he still liked having his tummy tickled.
I rose, stripped, washed and got dressed again, and made my way outside to camp. I was greeted by a very peeved-looking Kieran. I took the initiative. "Ok, Kieran, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have acted in that way last night, but I was tired. And by that I mean seriously tired. And annoyed. And... oh you know..." I was meek. But I needn't have worried, as his face broke into a smile. Or so I thought. "It's alright. I forgive you. But there is the small matter of the punishment for calling me 'Ginge'..." Ah. At the precise moment that I registered what he said, two of his friends jumped out from behind my tent, and pinned me down. I knew what was coming next. "No! Please! Don't!" I screamed, as a wickedly long feather was drawn from the inside of Kieran's tunic. "Really! Don't!" I was reduced to screaming monosyllables (not rude ones) as Kieran approached slowly, but surely. "Remove the shoes." I heard through my screams. "No! No! N..." My third cry for help was abruptly cut off by waves of tingling running up and down my leg. I clamped my lips together in an effort to stop the laughter, but it was too much. My hollering, giggles and shouts for mercy were heard all around camp that day for the next five minutes, and when it stopped there was nothing I could do but lie on the dusty ground, gasping for breath, and still giggling.
Ten minutes later I had recovered myself enough to go and see First Hollar, the leader of the clan, to give him my report. He raised an eyebrow as I entered, but politely said nothing. Doubtless he had heard, and would reprimand me and Kieran later, but there was nothing I could do about that. All that I had to do was to give him my report of the previous day's events, and this I did. I would have liked to omitted certain parts of the story (obviously the possession of Samuel), but Hollar would only find that out from Kieran or Curtap later, so there was no point in doing so. Speaking of the old healer, I was starting to regret how I behaved towards him.
I finished my report and stood back, ready for Hollar to deliver his verdict. He was silent, thoughtful. I waited. Then suddenly: "I need to talk to this boy. His being out here was not a coincidence if the level of possession he has is true." A typically political answer from the ever-calm leader. (You may perceive sarcasm from that comment if you like.) "Unfortunately, sir, I believe he is still unconscious, and probably will be so for a number of days. There is no telling how long he will sleep after an episode like that..." "Actually, I know," Samuel said, casually strolling into the tent. "It's about fifteen hours."
A Punishment • Opuss № I