Rynan's eyes burned. A tear slipped past the lid and down his cheek. Poor thing, he thought. His bottom lip trembled.
"W-Why'd they have to fight?" His eyes focused on the bear, face down, ripping chunks of meat. He didn't expect his best bud to hear him.
"They were hungry," Boone said somberly, patting his back. "If you force two alphas into a room, deprived of food, they do what's necessary."
Rynan shook his head. His heart, large as his mitts, drummed against his chest. Slowly. Out of rhythm. He wiped sweat from his forehead. Too many bodies, too much breath; the room stank and felt muggy.
Across from him, the Cyoakian tribesmen whispered. Two were skinny and small while the other two sat nearly large as he was. All wearing bear heads; mouths stretched open, fangs showing, round eyes black as their braids. Maybe that's why they're here...to take the head of the fallen. He turned towards the male bear; face ripped from new and old wounds.
Suddenly the female stepped towards the bear, her head down, bowing perhaps. Rynan was uncertain if anybody else had seen it. The bear roared and snarled, hushed, as if speaking to the deceased bear. Rynan's ears wiggled. There was a noise, soft spoken words. He could barely make them out.
"Sleep my friend...I thank you for your sacrifice."
Rynan leaned forward until he teetered off the bench, creeping toward the jailbars, the flames dying at the beast's back. "Hey, there." He looked over both shoulders, weary and cautious, certain nobody heard him. "Are you hurt?"
The female raised her head, displaying teeth long as nails. "Man beast," the creature snarled, "you hear my tongue?"
He nodded bringing his hands to the bars, he wrapped his fingers around. Warm from the fires heat. "I do," he said. "And you can understand me?"
The bear nodded, her eyes shifting, staring to something at his back. Rynan followed the creatures gaze; he found the large man gowned in the fur robe. His forehead down against the railing, breathing heavy as an ox.
"Baxter," the beast whispered. "He has the gift of beast tongue too." The bear jaws rattled. "The men there, those are my people." She pointed with her snout. Rynan looked to the tribesmen wearing bear-skulls. "You must convince them I am not their Brusk'Kab" The bear stepped closer to the bars, leaning her snout forward.
"Brusk'Kab?"
"The Cheifs pets..."
"Why? They can release you."
"If I return to my Chief Leofort-Baxter will kill him, Princess Lyolis, and Queen Lyseria-I will not have their blood on my paws." The bear spoke softly, "Please...help me-"
"Woah," Boone said, standing on the bench, leaning over the giants shoulder. "She was looking right at you." He laughed. "Probably wanted to eat you next."
The bear took a few steps back, turned her head, and chewed on leftover bones.
"Told ya."
Rynan shook his head, "Na, she smelled you," he said. He didn't dare tell Boone. And why should I? He wouldn't believe me, no how. "Cause you stink," Rynan shoved him off and laughed. His eyes trailed through the people and up to the balcony; staring back at him was Baxter, eyes black as sin, examining him like an animal. Face twisted. Eyebrows furrowed.
Rynan turned away, breathing heavy.
"What's the matter, ya big log?" Boone was still bouncing around, hyped up on Fox Piss. His hands trembled by his side, but the boy paid it no heed.
"Another brawl will start soon."
Barrot appeared out of nowhere, "Hey, Leslie wants to leave before the next brawl. You don't mind, do ya boys?"
Boone squeaked, "What-"
"Not at all," Rynan said, "I think it's time to leave." He opened his large mouth, "I'm starting to get," and yawned, "tired." He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.
"Tired?" Boone looked at him suspiciously. "It's half past eight. Here," he grabbed his mug of fox piss, "drink up." Leslie waved her hand from the stumpy staircase and the boy had a sudden change of heart. "On second thought, I think I'm ready to leave myself."
It took several hours, long after the sunset and the moon sat like an eye in the sky, for Boone to drift off to sleep. Leslie was out soon as she hit the mattress while Rynan laid in bed at the inn, his stomach making odd noises while he burped up flavored gas.
He looked at Boone wishing he could tell him. It was the one secret he kept hidden from him all his life. Rynan recalled when it happened first, not a day after his sixth birthday, he heard two sparrow speak.
"Look at that fat boy," one said.
The other chirped with laugher, "he looks like his heads on fire."
Rynan looked up at the birds who were nestled in a tree. "Who you calling fat?"
He recalled how the birds were so startled they nearly lept from their feathers, flapping away from him as quickly as they could. And this was only one instance. He had many moments like this, most of them coming to ask for help: the family of rabbits who came to him asking that they stop hunting their kind, and the foxes who kept stealing his shoes, discovering they needed his help to get their foxling out of a trap, or the racoons who lost their father to the river. The animals talked to him so frequently he didn't bother to make friends besides Boone. Who needs friends when you had the whole forest as your friend? He often thought. Still there were some that didn't take kindly to his kind. Like the wolves who wouldn't let him join their pack.
The worst moment though was when Boone's dog had rabies. Rynan shivered from the bed, remembering the time. He thought he could help him. Went to the dog several times, but he was so angry. "I'll Kill everyone...including you, boy!" The dog growled. He was the kindest mutt before he'd been bitten, with a heart of gold. And for a week Rynan tried to help him. Talk to him. Tell him to fight it...that he was stronger than that...but it consumed him. One time he got too close, much too close, and the dog lunged at him, snapping at his face, the drool warm on his skin. He didn't mean to do it...just like he didn't mean to do what he did to his father;
Rynan grabbed the dogs throat and squeezed, tears rolling down his face as the life left the creature. It was a mercy kill, he told himself, he was suffering. Boone and the others thought he'd gone in the night, but it was him. And for a long while after he thought he had rabies himself. The beasts drool had gotten on his skin, but he was fine, never taken by the rage that took the dog.
The giant boy rolled in the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I couldn't help him...And I can't help her," he whispered, thinking of the bear behind the bars.
He sat up in bed, I need a walk...
After he threw on trousers that were special tailored for himself, and threw on a thick forest-green shirt that draped over him like a pancho, he set out to explore the inn, roaming the chandelier filled hallways. Room after room he went: First to the track in the middle of the inn which wasn't near as large as he imagined but still very impressive. The track was open from dusk until dawn, where two horses raced, a fifty percent chance of winning. The seats were filled with gamblers from all across the city. Men and women cheering and whistling to the beat of hooves as dirt flung behind the beasts speeding around the track. He didn't stay long though; working on the ranch for all those years made him well aware of how a horse felt. And the horses that ran the track were weary, their mouths frothing like the fox piss they had drank at Baxters.
After that he went to the reading lounge, which was too quiet and boring for his taste then to the pipe lounge which was much too smokey.
"Smells like Pappy Jeroco's room," he chuckled. Last he stopped at a set of stairs, with carpeted red steps that led down into the Gentlemen's Study.
He rubbed his chin, but I don't have a suit... He shrugged his shoulders. "What is there to lose?" Worst thing that could happen is they kick him out, and by that time he'd be ready for bed, no how. The boy took a deep breath, descended down the stairwell and gave the scarlet red door three heavy knocks.
The door swung open slow and elegantly, and at first glance Rynan didn't see anything but the flicker of light. Then, a head popped from behind the door. It was a man, suited, with a thin mustache and hair greasy and slicked back. His eyes twinkled. And he smelt oddly; like fresh powder. The man's eyes looked him over smuggly.
"Can I help you, Sir?"
"Uhm," Rynan coughed knowing he needed not act his age. He deepened his voice and spoke as chipper as he could.. "Did nobody tell you of my arrival?"
The man raised an eyebrow, "and who might you be?"
The giant boy looked around dumbfounded until he saw something in the distance, a bust that sat on a podium; it was of an old man, Rudolph Yorksman, he barely made out the lettering. Lucky for him his big eyes could see quite well.
"Y-Yorksman," he said, with only one name that came to mind, "Mammoth Yorksman." It sounded ridiculous, he knew, but he wasn't quick to mind.
"Mammoth Yorksman?" The words rolled off the man's tongue suspiciously.
"Tell me, does my grandfather not speak of me?"
"Speak of you?" The man looked lost. "Rudolph Yorksman is long deceased, near twenty years."
Rynan's eyes widened. Now what? he thought. He bellowed with laughter and gave the man a nudge with his fist. "Of course he is, so it is no wonder why you've never heard of me."
The man scratched his pointed chin. "I presume so, Sir...My apologies."
"Not a problem," Rynan tried to slide between the door.
The man, though very short and skinny, held the door firmly. "I'll just need to see your papers."
Papers? Ryan searched his pockets. "I believe I left them in my room, silly me." He chuckled.
"Oh, sorry to hear that, Sir...If you'd so kindly grab them from your quarters-"
Rynan leaned in close, "here's the thing," he spoke in a whisper, making up a story as brilliant as one of Boone's. "You see, I'm not staying at the inn...On the contrary, I didn't want anybody to recognize me — why do you think I'm in these garbs — I presumed you'd know I was coming."
"Presumed?" The man reflected. "Ah, I see, Sir. What are the details to your affairs?"
"I can't tell you the details, the Mayor would have my head."
"Mayor?"
"Mayor Thompkins, he's in attendance, correct?" The gentleman's club was likely where he'd be, if anywhere, Rynan thought. The only gentleman he could think of.
"Mayor Thompkins is in attendance," the man mumbled, arguing with himself. "Right this way, I'll show you to him." He decided.
Rynan lips began to rise but he fought himself from smiling. "Splendid." He stood straight, shoulders back, eyes forward.
It helped that Rynan and Boone spent so many adventures as Wildgun and Mammoth the Kid. The two of them had snuck into many forts and buildings, all for play, pretending to be somebody other than themselves. And the practice paid off.
They walked through a hall of marble busts, all carved of men with mustaches and slick back hair; the forefathers of the study he believed. At the end two large velvet curtains draped across the hall, hiding the study from suspectful eyes.
Rynan rubbed his hands together. Boone is going to be so jealous...
The man grabbed and waved the curtain aside; Rynan hunched as he made his way through. He stood straight up and his eyes grew, mouth dropped. This was unlike any "study" he'd ever seen. A giant chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center of the room illuminating nothing but flesh: there was pale flesh, olive flesh, almond flesh, thick flesh, skinny flesh...and none of it was to eat. Like he'd enter some nudist sanctuary.
"Remove your garments and hang them up over there, Sir." The man pointed to a row of wardrobes filled with gowns and suits.
Rynan swallowed and nodded. "First step to being a gentleman?"
The man pointed nose wiggled. "As you say, Sir."