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  Her body sank into the frozen bushes and vines that hugged the cliff face. The beast kept coming toward her and she held her hands up, begging him not to hurt her…kill her. She stared in shock as he grinned, reached out, and gave her chest a small push. Suddenly she was sliding backwards into a crevasse.

  Mel stumbled and fell in a heap on the ground. Warm air stirred her hair and caressed her face. She was in a cavern where there appeared to be a small fire burning toward the back of the cave, and tiny flames flickered here and there on the stone walls.

  The beast stared down at her for a moment and then moved toward the fire, gesturing for her to follow. Now that the heat licked at her cheeks and hands, Mel realized that she was freezing. She had taken off her parka in the car for the ride home. Her sweater was damp, and some parts of the material were stiff with ice. She shivered and stood up. Watching the monster warily, she stood next to the fire.

  As though sensing her unease the sasquatch moved even further into the cave, knelt down, and began rummaging in a sack on the floor. After a minute he stood up and walked back, holding something in his hand. He stopped and handed Mel a piece of meat. She studied the offering for a moment and shrugged. It looked like some sort of jerky and the sight of it made her stomach cramp painfully with hunger. Mel realized that she hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast the previous morning.

  She took a bite and the creature smiled at her. His teeth seemed very white and Mel understood then, somehow, that the beast was very young. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but a frank curiosity and an innocent joy were in its eyes that seemed unmistakably child-like. She smiled back.

  As though it had just received an engraved invitation the beast grinned, took one giant step around the fire, and laid its huge paw on Mel’s forehead. She opened her mouth to scream, but suddenly her whole world changed. The incessant roaring in her ears ceased and a voice spoke.

  “Hello….” It seemed very far away, but the word was clear in her mind. Mel’s eyes grew huge. She stared up at the monster with her mouth open in shock.

  His eyes, now that she could see them in the fire’s glow, were a sort of mossy brown, like wood glimpsed through leaves. They studied her in a way that was so personal she squirmed in embarrassment. He smelled like wood too, and green things, flowers and smoke.

  Staring into her eyes he spoke again. “My name is Onio…First Son. Are you hurt?”

  Mel shook her head, and muttered, “No, but how is this possible?”

  Onio frowned, biting his lip in concentration. “The soul song.” He touched a finger to his own forehead and then gently touched hers. “My people use these words when silence is needed,” he added.

  Mel realized that her mouth was still hanging open in shock. She closed her lips with a snap, her heart pinched, and then she was sobbing. Great gasping waves of emotion filled her, swamping her in waves of sorrow, joy, fear and awe. She had never heard the spoken word before now, and it was beautiful beyond imagining.

  She wailed at the thought that she had never heard her mother’s words of comfort or love. She had never heard the words of a joke. Although she could sense the humor in written or signed words, the emotional impact was missing. The creature had given her a gift that was so soul shattering she didn’t think she could live without it, now that she understood what hearing was really like. She fell to her knees in shock.

  Onio stepped back in alarm. He wrung his hands, thinking that somehow he had harmed the human with his hasty touch, causing her terrible pain. He had waited so long to find one of these creatures…now he worried that he had wounded it.

  Mel looked up at him from where she huddled on the ground, and smiled through trembling lips. “Tha…thank you,” she gasped.

  Onio stared at her in confusion. “Did Onio hurt your head?”

  Mel saw that his lips did not move yet still his words conveyed fear and anxiety. She shook her head and concentrated. Speaking out-loud was hard for her…maybe she could speak to the beast with HER soul. “No. I’m not hurt,” she said, watching his eyes to see if he understood.

  He smiled and nodded, but still looked bewildered as to why the human was sobbing her guts out on the floor at his feet.

  Mel sighed and added, “I can’t hear…yours are the first words I’ve ever heard.” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she buried her face in her arms, gulping back her grief. She felt something land next to her legs and looked up in time to see Onio lift her hair up and peer at her right ear.

  “Ears don’t work?” he asked, while tracing the shell of her lobe gently with one giant finger.

  She giggled slightly at the tickle of it, but shook her head in sorrow. “Ears don’t work,” she agreed.

  He sat back on his haunches. Staring into her eyes he said, “Ears don’t matter so much here. Eyes though…eyes are important.” He reached over and pulled her right eyelid open wide. “Your eyes work good?” he asked.

  “Ow! Sheesh…my eyes work fine!” Mel exclaimed.

  Without warning, Onio picked her up off the ground. Drawing her very close, he put one large finger over her lips in the universal sign for silence. Then he placed her behind his back. Turning toward the back of the deep cavern, he stood and faced whatever approached from deep within the bowels of the mountain.

  Chapter 3

  The first thing Melody Carver saw as she peered around Onio’s wide back was the cavern filling with light. Then horrifying shadows cast their silhouettes. Long, pointed ears and fang-filled muzzles stretched and writhed across the stone walls. It looked as though a band of demons was approaching.

  Mel cringed in terror as the shadows resolved into the real thing. A pack of snarling, snapping dogs surrounded her and the sasquatch. The pack leader, a particularly large, grizzled looking German shepherd, got so close Mel could feel the spittle from its lips as it lunged at her. She screamed, hunching over defensively.

  She saw Onio gesture and all the dogs sat down at once. He took her arm, placing her in front of where he stood. Melody looked at the dogs sitting in a semi-circle in front of them and marveled. There were shepherds and poodles, coyotes and dachshunds…it looked like all the cast-offs of dog society had ended up here. They stared back at her with varying degrees of carefully controlled emotions…fear, anxiety and excitement.

  Mel looked up and what she saw made her heart pound in dread. This must be the rest of Onio’s people, she thought. About thirty sasquatches had entered the large cave and stood together in a group, regarding her suspiciously. None of them looked very friendly. Mel glanced back at her captor and saw him lift his chin and square his shoulders. He no longer looked young. Now he seemed just as fierce, just as formidable as some of the beasts that faced her with bared teeth and angry eyes.

  “What do you mean, Onio, bringing this creature here?”

  Again the words formed in her mind, and the sasquatch that spoke used a long, wooden spear to emphasize his words. The point of the spear came perilously close to Mel’s eyes and she winced.

  “Stop, Drak…I command it,” Onio snarled.

  The dogs stirred in agitation. Mel sensed the unease of the tribal members at the open hostility between the two big males. She didn’t know who this angry sasquatch was, but he clearly had a voice amongst his people. Many of the other sasquatches looked to Drak as though he had the final word. If that’s the case, Mel thought, I’m in big trouble!

  Drak seemed to puff himself up. He looked more like the pictures she had seen on magazine covers and newspapers than Onio did. He was taller than Onio, with long arms that reached past his knees and a bear-like face. His heavy shelf of brow almost obscured his eyes, which regarded her with malevolence. His jaw was under-slung and bristled with square, yellow teeth and two upper canines, which were at least five or six inches long.

  “Onio,” he growled. “You know that we never bring the little humans into our midst. They are dangerous and dirty. They talk, talk, talk all the time. They escape and tell the others. The
n we are hunted down and killed…or worse! You are young, First Son, but even you have heard what happens to those of us they capture! They experiment on us! Your own grandfather suffered such a fate, and still you take this risk!”

  Drak punctuated his words with his staff, thrusting it in Mel’s direction. The shepherd, as though sensing the “little human” as a threat, rose to its feet and lifted its lips in a snarl. Once again Onio raised his hand, and the dog sank back on its haunches.

  “I understand your concern, Drak, but this human did not choose to come here. It was an accident that brought it here…an accident I caused. If it had perished I would bear the burden of guilt.”

  “What was this accident, my son?” Another sasquatch stepped forward. It was clear to Mel that this was a female. Although she carried a sort of sling that covered one arm and shoulder, her breasts were bared. Her features were finer…more human looking than Drak’s. She was actually quite beautiful, with little fur on her body, but reddish brown hair that reached past her knees.

  Mel could see the family resemblance between the female and Onio…the large, greenish eyes and slashing brow, the finely formed lips. Mel wondered, suddenly, if there was human DNA in the mother and son’s bloodline.

  “There was an auto accident,” Onio stated. “I was slow in crossing the road and this human was startled to see me. She lost control of her vehicle.” He paused for a moment and added, “At least, I think it is female. It was my fault.”

  “What matter these little humans and their automobiles?” Drak sneered. “Those automobiles pollute our atmosphere and kill many animals! Why should you concern yourself with the fate of this…this thing?”

  Mel watched the faces around her and realized that most of the members of Onio’s tribe agreed with Drak. Her eyes grew wide as she understood that her reprieve from certain injury and death might be short-lived. She hugged herself in fear.

  Another female, who had been studying Mel carefully, stepped forward and raised her hand to be heard. This one appeared very old, as she was bent with age and her fur was silver. Wrinkles radiated from her eyes, creasing leathery cheeks. The hair on her head was carefully braided and spangled with colorful bits of stone, feather and fur.

  “Onio…First Son, have you gifted this little human with the soul song?”

  For the first time Onio looked nervous. He stared down at the floor of the cavern and scratched a toe across the stone. Mel could sense in his demeanor that he had done something wrong…taboo…and he had just been called on it.

  “No! It is forbidden!” Drak raged.

  The other sasquatches seemed to agree. Although Mel couldn’t make out every voice, the emotional temperature within the group rose dangerously. Every dog in the cave stood. Mel could see that they were readying for an attack.

  “Stop it!”

  Mel could barely hear the words, but instantly the sasquatches mental cries quieted. Even the dogs obeyed, sitting down, tails wagging in obedience. Mel looked into the shadows toward the back of the cave and saw an old, old sasquatch being carried toward her on a litter. He was shrunken and frail. Although Mel could see he must have once been huge, his tall frame was emaciated and all of his flesh hung off his bones like an ill-fitting cloak.

  The old male was set on the floor by two young and very large sasquatches. He stared up at Mel with interest and said, “Grandson, why did you gift this human so?”

  Onio shrugged. “I thought that something was wrong, Grandfather. She did not hear the snows coming and could not hear my words of warning. She does not know how to use words! Later, she admitted that her ears are damaged…she cannot hear.”

  The old one nodded. “So you gifted the little human with our most precious resource? You took it upon yourself to open passages within this woman’s brain that most humans would not be able to tolerate, much less control? Do you understand, Onio, what you have done?”

  The words were harsh. Onio hung his head in shame, while Drak postured proudly. The others shook their fists in rage. Mel was watching the old sasquatch though. He seemed to be staring back at her in a friendly manner.

  “Can you hear my words, girl?” the old one asked.

  Mel stared into his eyes for a moment and nodded.

  Drak threw his long arms into the air and stamped his foot in anger. The other sasquatches huddled together, whispering amongst themselves. It seemed much quieter now, as though the group as a whole had decided to cloak their thoughts…the soul song…from her.

  It had been wonderful while it lasted. Mel hung her head, fighting back tears. It seemed like a cruel jest to hear the spoken word for a few precious moments and to lose it just as quickly. She felt like a starving woman who had just been offered a feast, only to wake suddenly and realize that it was a dream. Then a voice spoke.

  “Do you understand how to form words, child?” It was the old sasquatch. Mel knew, without a doubt, that her fate lay in his hands.

  She hated to talk. She mangled words no matter how hard she tried, but she knew she had to respond verbally. Her soul song was too new and it seemed like a bad idea to encroach upon something the sasquatches treasured and held aloof from others.

  She nodded, clearing her throat. “I…don taw too werw…,” she whispered, blushing.

  “How does your head feel? Are you feeling ill from your accident…or from what Onio did to you?” The old sasquatch glanced sharply at Onio, who looked down again in shame.

  For some reason Mel was starting to feel bad. She was tired, stressed and fearful, but she thought she was uninjured by the joy ride she had taken over the guard rail. Now though, her head ached, her throat hurt, and every muscle in her neck and upper back throbbed. She staggered and sat down with a groan. One of the littler dogs, some sort of terrier, came over to her, sniffing inquisitively.

  The old female with feathers in her hair knelt by Mel’s side. A giant warm hand covered her forehead and moved around to the back of her neck. Fingers probed and Mel gasped, crying out in pain. The little dog wormed its way onto Mel’s lap. She wrapped her arms around the animal. Tears streamed down her cheeks; tears of pain, fear and loss.

  ***

  The old woman, whose name was Rain, used soul song to speak. “This little human has been injured. There is no blood, but her muscles are torn. Also, she is starved and needs to rest. What Onio has done will take time for her to process…if she is able to, that is. She will be sick for a while.”

  She pushed Mel down with gentle fingers and waited while a large, somewhat smelly fur was placed over the shivering girl. She stood up and addressed her husband, Bouldar, who was clan king.

  “Our grandson has been stupid, husband, but you know already of his desire to study the little people. Especially now that he knows their blood runs in his own veins.”

  She stared at some of the tribe members with cool challenge. Most of them looked away, but some gazed back in defiance. She regarded her sister’s son, Drak, and sighed.

  “I think that we should wait for this female to rest and recover her strength. A few days won’t hurt. We were not planning on leaving here until the new moon, anyway. Maybe our grandson will quench his thirst for knowledge if he is allowed to study the human for a while.”

  “No,” Drak objected. “It would be simpler to throw the creature to its death. Onio, in his ignorance, only interrupted the natural flow of events. You yourself teach us this truth, Auntie!”

  Rain winced. Her nephew was correct…life and death, fortune, weather, good hunting, a healthy body…all of these things were pre-ordained. Had her grandson inadvertently altered the fate of the tribe? Had disaster struck at last? She studied her husband’s eyes as Drak shouted to be heard above the clamor of panicked voices.

  Bouldar smiled. The tribe quieted and stood still to listen to their leader.

  “Drak, you will be still and endeavor to help your nephew.” Drak clenched his mighty fists in frustration, but bowed his head in submission.

  “Rain,”
he continued. “You will care for this creature. If she recovers by the time we move east we will let her go home. I don’t believe her people would believe her, even if she could make herself understood.”

  Rain nodded, gesturing to her two daughters to bring warm broth to the patient. She caught the look of excitement that crossed her grandson’s face, noting that he kept his eyes respectfully lowered. He would be king someday, she knew, but his curiosity often got in the way of common sense.

  “Help me stand!” her husband demanded. The king’s young guards helped the old sasquatch to his feet.

  “Bring me the staff of office,” he stated. Onio looked up in alarm, as did the rest of the tribe.

  “Onio,” Bouldar announced. “You will undergo the test now for your transgressions… ten strikes!”

  Rain turned away, shaking, as the rest of the tribe gasped in shock.

  Chapter 4

  For four days, Mel drifted in and out of consciousness. When she was able to swim up from the tendrils of death that held her, she dreamed vivid and horrifying dreams.

  Once, she sat up with a start and saw a scene from Dante’s Inferno. She saw a huge hairy man being flogged by a branchless tree trunk. The tree was very large and the branches on it had been cut crudely so that long splinters sprouted from its surface like jagged teeth. The man was held in place by long ropes of vine that were hung from stalactites so that his feet barely touched the floor. He was screaming while others of his kind either cheered in triumph or wept with sympathy.

  Another time Mel awoke in a hospital room with nurses all around her. She felt like she was in familiar territory, but wondered how she had changed places with her mother. Her mom held her wrist in one large hand and peered into her eyes with concern.

  “Mama…,” she croaked, and drew back in alarm when her mother’s face disappeared. Now she was surrounded by monsters. Their giant hairy faces leered down at her. Their mouths sang an eerie chorus Mel couldn’t hear, but understood. The hospital room dissolved into a small cave and her crisp, white sheets were replaced by a scruffy fur blanket. She shrugged it off, screaming, before succumbing to the healing darkness once again.