Cursed Are the Meek

The Chieftain

The healer had prodded and flipped the young slugcat around for about half an hour before leaving the room and making a long-winded, pompous statement that ultimately boiled down to "He's just hungry and exhausted; he'll be back on his feet with two days of proper feeding."

That had been quite a relief to most listeners, who hurried back to their comfortable beds to sleep.

Lone Star, however, was not satisfied. She waved off the guards in front of his tent and decided to stay by his bedside for the time being.

Pipsqueak's gaunt little figure made for a quietly poignant sight. 
They'd found him half buried in the rubble clutching his tail for warmth, as it was the only part of him to still retain some fat; his fur was opaque, brittle; and his whole body had a tension to it that spoke of toil and misery.

Her mind went back to their first meeting. He'd been younger, then, and almost as thin. 

His first interaction with the clan had been quite mysterious: he would stalk the hunters for days on end, never quite daring to approach.
At first they'd thought he planned to steal from them or attack and chased him off with spears and stones, like an annoying beggar they couldn't quite get rid of.

Then he'd started leaving spears in conspicuous places, or gently tossing them fruits and batflies. Once he disappeared for a while, and returned offering a pearl.

They learnt to tolerate his presence; but those who had managed to get close to that small, eerie creature found him... disquieting.
His big eyes like deep pools of black shimmered with a haunted, anguished hope that they couldn't quite place, especially in what they thought at the time to be a mere animal.

One day he had finally crawled up to a hunting party on all fours and stammered a few words of greeting in his distorted, song-like way, and sent them all into a shock.
Bit by bit, he became bolder. He'd chat up the hunters, follow them more closely. Sometimes even help, as he was quite adept with spears.

Lone Star had been curious to hear all of this, and eventually demanded to have an audience with the little creature who they had started referring to as "slugcat".

The day came: a cool autumn morning. The hunters had escorted the creature up into the chieftain's quarters and quietly stood guard as he nervously crawled on all fours towards Lone Star, head bowed in submission.

"Hello Mother," he ventured. "you salmoned me?"

The corners of Lone Star's mouth twitched under the mask, and she had to swallow a hearty chuckle.

"Yes, little friend. I summoned-" she deliberately emphasized the word, though not unkindly.
"You here because I have been hearing a lot about your... exploits." she paused and silently tried to gauge his reaction.

"I hear you've made yourself quite useful."

"Me happy, to help." 
Lone Star noticed he still hadn't sat up from his tense crouching position. She resolved to switch tactics.

"Stand. I'd like to see you."

He obediently raised himself so he was squatting on his haunches. His great, liquid eyes darted nervously to and away her menacing mask and the swaying pearls attached to it. 

Casually she slipped out of her bulky headgear, placing it squarely by the side of her throne. Without it, the great chieftain was thin and rather short; her solemn  expression softened by the fine laughing lines near her eyes.

"Traditionally a chieftain should wear this to intimidate visiting foreigners, but you seem more than cowed enough." She gave him a wink so brief he spent the rest of his days wondering whether he'd imagined it.

"What is your name?"

"... forgot. Hunters call me, 'Pipsqueak'." 

"Forgot your own name?" 
The little slugcat's ears drooped. He nodded, sullen.

"Do you not have a family? You seem rather young to be travelling alone."

"Lost. Have been lost, for long time."

"Are we the first people you've met since?"

He nodded again, his eyes rooted to the floor.
He didn't see how Lone Star's stern expression relaxed into a restrained, sorrowful compassion; or how her hand gripped her throne's armrest as if preparing to stand.

Poor child, she thought. Poor, lonely, hungry child.

Remembering herself, the chieftain leaned back into her chair and eased her grip, folding her hands in her lap.

"For your continued cooperation with us," she begun, "and your heroic efforts in saving Red Wind from vultures, I declare you a friend to the Clan. You may cross our lands unhindered and trade with us at your will; not to mention you have my blessing to eat and sleep in our home."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers for the first time.

"M-Mother?" he stuttered incredulously.

She paused.

"Do not make me regret this."

"I won't!" he cried out beaming. Happiness swept through him like a tide: his ears perked, his eyes shone, and his bent posture straightened on the spot. He hopped gleefully from one foot to the other.

Lone Star suppressed a smile as she reached to the side and slipped her mask back where it belonged.

"Very well then. You are dismissed."