//------------------------------// // When the blood makes you bitchy // Story: Dogged Determination // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// And lo, the hero, er, the heroine? Eh, whatever. She did begin her journey back to sunlit lands, now armed with a Plus Five Hecklemaster. Already, she was mildly annoyed by the strange voice that came from within and without, the voice that she could not explain, like so many others before her, she wondered what the sounds of going mad might sound like, or would have, if she wasn’t a puppy and had some concept of what going mad was. Shēdo ignored the voice that seemed to have no origin and focused upon the task at paw. Climbing up the long hole was far more difficult than falling down it, and she was doing so in the dark. Above her, there was only darkness. Her diggy-diggy claws found purchase in the dirt and she scurried up the hole with her new sword strapped to her back. It was far too long to secure to her side. Already, she was making plans. Once she was topside, she would sneak away, just in case Dig Dag had left somedoggy to watch for her, and she would find food. She needed food, she needed more than just spiders to eat. Once she had some food, once she had recovered a bit with a few meals and regained her strength, she was going to return and cut Dig Dag down. Or die trying. It didn’t matter either way. Cool air hit her nostrils and she paused to sniff. Angling her head up, she saw stars twinkling overhead, and it was the first time she had seen them in a very long time. Frozen in place, overwhelmed, Shēdo took a moment to watch the stars twinkle. She was near the top of the hole now and she did not know what she might find. Watching the stars also allowed her to catch her breath. As malnourished as she was, she didn’t have a lot of stamina. Very much like a bigger, scarier, meaner looking gopher, Shēdo’s head popped up out of the ground and she peered around in the darkness. It took a moment for her vision to adjust and her keen diamond dog eyes amplified the available starlight tenfold. The entire world around her took on a silvery sheen, no colours, just silvers and greys, allowing her to see almost everything. She sniffed, cautious, and didn’t smell anything out of place, but that was no assurance. If there was a hunter nearby, he might be using a no-stink potion, which would make him impossible to scent. Shēdo pulled herself up out of the hole but remained on all fours so that she would be low to the ground. Lo, the opportunity for Shēdo to prove herself presented itself, and she was warned of the danger by the generous, doting, benevolent narrative spirit that only she was aware of. At least for now. There would most certainly be times that Shēdo’s enemies would also become aware of the narration, for what fun would it be to only torment Shēdo? Wait, did I say torment? I would never torment Shēdo. That would be crass! Scowling, Shēdo went very still, now alerted to the presence of peril, and she tried to listen for the sounds of danger. She had keen hearing by any standard and now, every muscle in her body went tight as she listened. Her cold, wet nose sniffed once, twice, and then a third time. So focused was her hearing, she could now hear the sound of her own eyes blinking as her night vision continued to gain focus. The faint rustle of fur was the only warning that Shēdo got. Leaping, the pup somersaulted away as a much larger male brought the blunt end of his spear down on the spot where she had been standing. In mid-air, her left paw reached for the grip of her sword, and her night vision was dazzled by the sudden burst of green fire, but she wasn’t the only one. The big male let out a yelp of surprise as he went blind, his eyes burned by the sudden excess of light. Shēdo was blind as well and she landed on her hind paws, with her right arm out for balance. She wobbled a bit, her whole body trembling, and she kept her ears focused on the panicked sound of the big male breathing. He was waving his spear around in a wild attempt to hit something, and she could hear the air whistling around its barbed tip. Still blind, she struck out with her sword, focusing on the sound of the whistling air. The witchfire blade struck steel and cleaved right through it. The spearhead fell to the ground with a muffled sound of steel striking soft dirt, but Shēdo refused to be distracted. Gripping her sword in both paws, the pup focused her ears upon the sounds of heavy breathing and the rustle of fur. Even better, she heard a growl. Raising her sword up over her head, she brought it down in a blind chop, her eyes still dazzled by the brilliant green light of her blade. Halfway through her arc, her blade encountered some resistance, but not much. She felt it slide through with no real effort at all. A second later, she was struck with a hot, salty spray, a pulsing, gushing torrent of sticky liquid that washed over her face, arms, shoulders, and her girth, soaking her. There was a gurgling, bubbling cry, a drowned yelp, and her ears could hear the sounds of raw, wet, sloppy meat slapping together. And lo, our heroine discovered that she was dangerous. Her vision cleared just enough to see that she had sheared the cheek right off of the muzzle of the hunter. All of his teeth were visible because his grin went right up to his ear, or would have if the blow hadn’t also severed that as well. One big hairy arm reached for her, and the other arm tried to smash her with the spear, using it like a club. She rolled backwards, holding her sword out, and when she was on her hind paws again, she hefted her blade in an upwards chop. The arm reaching for her was severed just below the elbow, and Shēdo caught it before it hit the ground. There was a frenzied scream from her attacker, a terrible sound indeed, and while he was helpless, Shēdo took the opportunity to strike. Using the arm that she had just severed, she lept and rammed the bloody protruding bits of bone right into the big male’s eye, jamming it in as hard as she could. There was a wet squish of meat striking meat, and a grinding sound as bone scraped against bone. Still mid-air, she kicked out with one hindpaw, knocking her assailant over into the dirt. Standing over him, she held out her sword and had a better look at him while her vision cleared. In the baleful green glow, she recognised him, she knew him well. Crag Daggle, Dig Dag’s torturer. His whimpers were like sweet, sweet music and she thought about all of the awful, horrible, unspeakable things that Crag Daggle had done. “A bitch has defeated you,” Shēdo said, her voice low and growly. “A bitch pup. I have bested you.” While speaking, she thought of all the times he had punished her, beaten her, made her cry out. Redoubling the grip on her sword, she pointed it at him. “You are the first, Crag. I kill you, then I go kill Dig Dag. Then I give clan back to Minori and we be good.” “You poor dumb bastard, you were beaten by a puppy one third your size!” Limey shouted as blood dripped from his blade. “I bet that stings!” The baleful green glow of the witchfire blade turned the scarlet mask on Shēdo’s face to look garish. She stood, listening, savouring the sounds of Crag’s laboured breathing. When Dig Dag had punched her, breaking off her fang, it had been Crag who had pulled out the root of it with pliers, sitting on her, almost suffocating her. She recalled all too well how parts of him pressed against her, hard, unyielding, and she knew what fate awaited her once she was old enough and big enough. Panting with rage, Shēdo stood over her helpless foe, wondering what Minori might say. Reaching out, she grabbed him by the remaining ear and yanked him upwards into a sitting position. Leaning in, she looked him in the face, her head off to one side because of Crag’s forearm protruding from his eye socket. “You are the bitch.” Her sadistic whisper competed with the sound of steel parting gristle as she drove the tip of her sword into Crag’s girth, the tip passing through his breastbone with no effort. As the blade pushed through, she felt it strike Crag’s spine on the other side of his body, but it offered no real resistance. She sunk her sword into him right up to the hilt, never once looking away from his panicked, pained eye. Her diligence was rewarded when she watched the light go out in it, she watched it dim, and growled when there was no spark of life left. Yanking backwards, she pulled the sword from Crag’s girth, and then kicked him over as she was showered in more blood. She stood there, unmoving, allowing the blood of her fallen enemy to wash over her, and her witchfire blade bathed the scene in an eerie green light. Her hind paws squished in the dirt that was now mud, so saturated it was with blood. “By the alicorns, this is better than I hoped! You’re a barbarian!” Ignoring Limey, Shēdo closed her eyes and felt the blood running down her body in rivulets. It soaked into her fur and was hot against her skin. An ever-growing bloody mud puddle spread around her, and her paws sank down into the soft, soothing mud. She dropped down, sitting in the mud, which was both cool and warm against her fevered flesh. Trembling, her blade shook in her grip, and she bowed her head. Had she become onryō? Minori had told her stories. Many times she had sat with Long Ears and Kabuki and had listened to Minori’s tales. So covered in blood was she that her ears were plastered to the sides of her head. She thought of onryō and yūrei, and in the midst of her moment of triumph, she felt sad because she didn’t know more of the old language, the language that Dig Dag had forbidden them to speak. She had kneeled down as a pup, but as she rose, she was something else. Shēdo didn’t know what. The blood had changed her. Confused, she thought of what it meant to be a bitch, she hadn’t yet experienced her first issue of blood, the miraculous sign that it was time for her to have puppies to keep the clan strong. No, for her, the blood had not come from within, but from without. Already, it was caking to her fur because she was drenched in it. And thus, our heroine contemplates her own adulthood, and she wonders if this symbolic issue of blood means that she is a full grown bitch now. Nothing in her life has prepared her for this, to be free, to be her own creature. And this is why magic swords are dangerous. If you find one in a barrow, or have some moistened bint lob a scimitar at you from out of a pond, your life is going to become quite interesting, indeed! With a somewhat jerky motion, Shēdo whipped her sword out to one side and sent the blood on the blade flying off in a fine red mist. The blade, now clean, was held up to her face, and she breathed deep, thinking about her many questions. “Quite a beginning, Warlord Ketsueki.” “I don’t know what that means,” Shēdo replied. “Oh, I think you’ll find out soon enough!” Limey’s voice was shrill and excited. “See what we can do together? Trust in me and I’ll guide your paw to victory. Together, we’ll be unstoppable! Just think of all of the innocents we can save!” Shēdo blinked. “Why did I just say that?” Limey asked. “It’s happening again… I’m having distressing thoughts about saving innocents and doing good. Ugh!” The sword shuddered in Shēdo’s grasp. “We kill the wicked and save my tribe… my clan,” Shēdo said to her blade. Already, she had a plan forming, and with her new sword, she felt that anything was possible. “First we cut down Dig Dag, then maybe, we go hunt for others. They all die in much pain, much screaming. We take vengeance for bitches everywhere. Much death. Howling.” “Whatever you say, Warlord Ketsueki! Roadtrip!”