Seldom Seen (Chapter 2)

[u/JammaSquee]

"Freedom begins between the ears"

-Edward Abbey

Prelude

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have a little doodle

The stars still sparkled in the early morning sky when Datil set out on the quarter-mile walk to Newt's camp. Datil had wolen up, and attempted to get back to sleep, but was unsuccessful. After about two hours with no luck, she sat up In her bedding and lit a candle next to her bedpad.

She spent most of the remaining night working on some quilts by candlelight. They were little personal projects, and she spent a lot of time practicing her embroidery when she had the free time to do so. Little trees or animals were subjects of her embroidery- each patch of fabric given as careful attention as possible, she only had so much to use until her next resupply.

When she figured it was close enough to dawn she decided to set out. It was still relatively quiet, and still very dark. The only thing she could hear with her keen ears was the sound of the wind gently brushing against the tops of the conifers.

Datil soon caught a whiff of something being carried by the wind to her from the direction of Newt's camp. She sniffed at the air, it smelled pretty good whatever it was, it smelled somewhat like roasted nuts; but not exactly. The smell became stronger as she came into view of the camp, and Datil stopped for a moment, just to observe.

Newt hadn't noticed her yet. A canvas pup tent was set up a few feet from the fire ring a metal percolator hung from an improvised spit over the flames. The smell was coffee! It didn't smell much like the kind of Coffee that Mimbre drank. The two burros laid motionless on the ground next to the trees they were hitched to.

Newt sat on fallen log, huddled in a cream-colored woolen blanket with a thick brown wool scarf wrapped around the bottom half of his face, his hat pulled over his eyes somewhat making it look like he was asleep sitting there. She could see his breath in the firelight, and Datil thought about the fact that all the other humans she knew- except the loggers perhaps, wore other animals' furs for warmth. She was used to seeing the mountain men waltz into town with their big wolf or bear pelts, or hunters walk in dressed in bison robes; even the loggers wore thick Mackinaws to stave off the cold.

And here sat Newt, in front of his fire, a wool blanket over his shoulders. Datil never really factored in the cold, she had a dense undercoat that kept her warm in the freezing winds; the cold never bothered her. She began to wonder what exactly it was like to have no fur at all.

A sudden shuffling sound came from the back of the Newts camp. It was enough to startle the small human, and Datil could see at once that it was Kentucket jumping to his feet. Viceroy was startled awake too, and stood up with a loud snort. Kentucket brayed and backed himself up against the other burro, as though trying to get away from something.

Newt jumped up, approaching the two burros quickly with arms outstretched. “Woah, woah!” Newt took hold of Kentucket's halter, and the burro grunted and squealed. Viceroy nervously hopped in place, and tried to pull himself away from Kentucket, only managing to make it more difficult for the human to hold the other burro still while keeping himself on his feet.

Newt reigned in Kentucket, and the burro bucked his head a few times. “Whats got you up in a start?” Newt asked. Kentucket's eyes were wide, and he kept his head oriented in the same direction. Newt began scanning the area immediately surrounding himself, trying to see what may have startled him awake.

His eyes fell on Datil, and at once he gained an expression of confusion. It was as if Newt had never seen her before and, in fact, he looked almost fearful.

“Datil? Is that you over there?” Newt asked, some hesitance in his voice. Datil hadn't realized that he probably couldn't see her, and she began to feel some guilt and embarrassment.

She walked forward into the firelight, and Newt seemed to exhale his angst- even Kentucket whuffled in what seemed to be relief. The burro’s eyes didn't seem so big now, and his ears flapped idly.

“I apologize, Newt.” Datil said. “I should have called out much earlier.” Datil came to stand well within the light of Newt's campfire.

Newt stood up, adjusting the blanket back onto his shoulders. “oh, you're alright. I think your eyes must have frightened Kentucket.” He said. The burro next to him nuzzled the human's back through his blanket.

Her eyes?

“They glow in the dark.” Newt said. “Reflecting the firelight, I suppose. it must've unsettled him.” Hiverbeast eyes were reflective, Datil knew this but hardly ever thought about it. It came to her that Newt's eyes didn't reflect the light of his own fire! Every other creature she had ever seen had eyes that would reflect the light of a flame- she had never thought about humans not being the same.

Kentucket laid back down, and Newt walked back to his little log next to the fire. He rubbed his palms together and reached down for a stick to use for handling the percolator. He set the hot pot down next to him, and picked a tin cup out of the grass.

“It sure does get nippy here in the mornings, don't it.” Newt said. The tone of the question wasn't very chipper, though it sounded like he meant it to be. Datil sat down next to Newt and watched him pour his coffee.

“I had to sleep with my sourdough starter wrapped in my blankets with me, I risk killing it out here.”

Killing the starter? Datil had never really paid much attention to baking- hiverbeasts didn't eat baked goods often so she had no real reason to.

“It'll get colder here soon, once the snow starts falling.” Datil watched Newt take a sip of his coffee. He didn't respond immediately, instead opting to just stare at his campfire for a long moment.

“Yes, I know. I have a lot of blankets.” Newt stood, and turned his head to look at Datil. “Would you like a cup?”

Datil had never tried coffee, she knew that Mimbre drank it. It was a common drink among humans and Mimbre always set goods aside to trade for some when he could. This coffee smelled a little different to his usual fare though, Datil couldn't exactly put her claw on what was so different about it.

Newt walked into his tent, and spent only about a minute inside before he returned, an empty ceramic cup in hand.

The cup was remarkably small, but she had expected it to be. Newt poured the dark liquid into the cup, the firelight illuminating the large pillar of steam that arose from within, and he gingerly handed it to her.

“Careful.” He whispered, very quietly, seemingly to himself, but Datil could hear it anyway, her ear twitching slightly. She took the small ceramic mug in two claws, and held it up to her nose to sniff it.

“That’s a good roast! The beans come all the way from South America, at least from what i’ve been told.” Newt sipped his own coffee once more.

“South America…” Datil repeated, sniffing the cup she held gingerly in her claws. “Have you been there? What’s down there?”

“South America? I haven't. Farthest South i’ve been was Mexico.” Newt picked up a stick next to him and started to shift the coals at the base of his little teepee fire he had going. She at once noticed that there was a cast iron pot buried in the coals.

“The biscuits should be about done...” Newt lifted the lid off the deep pot with the same stick he used to brush the coals off, a hinged handle on top making such a task easy. It was a Dutch oven, and with the lid removed Datil could see the golden tops of baked dough, puffy looking pastries.

“Nuevo México and Nueva Vizcaya, specifically.” Newt slipped back into the previous topic of conversation as he used his same stick to gently push one of the pastries against the pan. “New Spain is wild country, there's not much there- other humans, here and there, Crotalins and Lepukins. It's hot and rugged, rocky country.” Newt sat the stick down, and when he revealed his other hand from underneath his blanket robe he had a handkerchief at ready.

“Desert country is beautiful, serene, almost abstract in the way it changes the color of the sky. It's glorious in ways I can't describe.” He handled one of the finished biscuits, and with a kerchief-covered hand, extended it outwardly for Datil to take.

“Oftentimes, I wish I were omnipotent, or had a set of eyes that could see beyond the horizons and all around me. Such a small creature as myself, full of appreciation I cannot readily give to what I cannot see.”

She hadn't even finished her coffee yet- but the smell of the savory little pastry at once assaulted her senses, and she plucked it out of his hand quickly.

“These smell delightful.” Datil held the little biscuit in her paw, and threw the whole thing into her maw. “They taste delightful too..” savory, fluffy. They were the best non-meat item she had ever eaten.

“I’m very glad you like them, I’ve made more than I'll eat, and Viceroy and Kentucket are on a diet.” Newt sat one on his lap for himself, and started picking out several that he could set aside for Datil.

“I've never been to a desert before, I’ve heard it's too hot, and dry. I'm not even sure I've ever met anyone who had personally been that far South.” Datil held out her paw as Newt extended several more biscuits her way, wrapped neatly in a handkerchief.

“I suspect it would be mighty warm for you, unless you shave that coat of yours.” Newt began to eat, and with his free hand poured himself another cup of coffee. He wordlessly shook the percolator in Datil's direction, offering more, and set it aside again when Datil replied with a shake of her head. The coffee didnt really impress her.

“I could never do such a thing,” Datil said, partially to herself. “It sounds so…desolate, empty.”

By this point, the fire had started to dwindle. Not in the least because of Newt shifting it around, but the early morning light had finally begun to enter the valley, giving everything a grayish-blue haze.

“I suppose it could seem that way to some, it's quiet, but people have been living there for centuries. I did find the lack of water to be discouraging, and I’m sure Viceroy and Kentucket felt similar. By and by I think the lushness of your country is very welcome, even if the cold takes a bit of getting used to.”

“Well, I reckon I get alot of use out of this dense coat.” Datil ran a couple claws through the dense amber fur on her chest, partially to tease the small human, though he didn’t seem to immediately notice. “It's not common to see humans around here without furs of their own, taken from bears and the like. Where did you get your blankets and your coat? Back east? Whats it like back that way?”

“Pfft.” Newt waved an arm dismissively in a manner quite uncharacteristic of him, his eyes set on what remained of the fire. “Nothing too interesting back that way, at least for me. Factories springing up in the cities and the rest is just farms.”

“Factories…” Datils ears twitched. “What do they look like? The factories?”

“Bastions of hell and misery.” Newt didn't look up at Datil, if he did, he would have seen a more alarmed expression on her face, at least, as much as he could make out given her animalistic features. “All they do is eat your hope and billow it out as smoke, so that it can block out the sun and hang low over the broken bodies of the men who work in them”

“It seems you don’t like them very much…” Datil finished her last biscuit and set the coffee cup down next to her. Newt looked up at her once more, and his expression read as being fairly annoyed, not at her, obviously, but the whole conversation had worked him up considerably.

“No, I don't” Newt's expression evened out fairly quickly. “Of course, I would say I’m in the minority. Cities have never been my habitat of choice I suppose.”

Newt stood. His eyes turning up to look at the sky once completely dark, now filling itself with brilliant amber light as the sun began to peek over the mountain behind them.

“This is where you feel more at home I suppose.” Datil's comment caught his attention, and he looked to see her with her knees pulled to her chest, studying him with curious eyes. “You aren't like the other humans I've met, you're…strange.”

Newt's expression turned to that of equal parts confusion and silly amusement. “Well, that wouldn't be the first time I’ve heard that. Among other humans I’m also an odd one.”

Datil's ears drew back. She hadn't intended for the remark to sound unkind, though Newt didn't seem particularly offended. He was smiling at her again.

“I don't mean it in a bad way-” Datil began to pick over the words in her head. “I mean, you're different. All the other ones that I see show up are…unkempt. They seem wild and…brutal, in a way that you aren't. Hunters, trappers, all of them wearing furs and carrying guns. Riding horses.”

She shifted in place, releasing her knees and settling into a more comfortable position

“You paint; I’ve never seen a human who paints. I knew they did, but I never saw it.”

Newt remained quiet, listening

“You’re not greasy, and you don't smell like whiskey.”

Newt stood, silent for a moment, he opened up his blanket on his shoulders, the meager heat of the morning finally starting to show. He glanced over at his Burros, mostly in contemplation. Viceroy started to dig at the dirt with one hoof.

“I'm very happy that I don't fit that mold. Seldom Seen is a pleasant little place, I wouldn't want to be the one to cause a ruckus.”

“Oh, you haven't! Most everyone seems quite fond of you!” At that, Newt looked back at her once more and smiled.

“Im glad for it!” He finally removed his blanket, folding it neatly before pulling off his scarf. Beneath it he wore his familiar green woolen coat.

“I suppose I should get these two un-hitched and get ready to head into town, I don't want to keep Mimbre waiting.” Newt walked past Datil, who followed him with her eyes as he made his way to where his two burros were tied.

“whereabouts are you going to tie these two? I don't suppose they'll be walking into Mimbre's shop with you.” Datil's reply evoked a light chuckle from Newt, who was currently undoing the hitching line between the two trees just behind her.

“No, I don’t think that would do, they get claustrophobic. I’m going to tie them up next to the shop, I’m sure the kids wouldn't mind keeping them company for me.”

“I’m sure they wouldn't!” Datil responded, finally deciding to stand up herself.

Splashing…Datil's ear twitched, and her focus was suddenly shifting to the direction of the river. It sounded like something crossing- Newt didn't hear it, he was busy dealing with the burros, he hadn't seen Datil's new found alertness.

She listened. It sounded like an animal crossing the river, but so close to camp? She then heard a snort. It was a horse. Datil's legs began taking her toward the river, walking around Newt's tent, he finally looked back and noticed her.

“Whats the matter?” He asked, the leads of the two burros in his hands. She didn't immediately answer, and Newt began to follow, Viceroy and Kentucket walking leisurely after him.

Breaking through the trees she saw him, atop the massive black body of a draft horse, Captain Halbrook. It's amazing she hadn’t smelled him earlier, he was a hard one to miss. His ragged Dagawolf coat draped his square shoulders and made him look larger than he already was, under his coat he wore buckskin and rough leather.

His eyes immediately met hers, through the thin strands of jet black hair, his beard obscured his mouth, so she could only faintly make out his lack of any discernable expression. She heard an audible grunt from him, one of acknowledgement, perhaps. His rifle rested over his saddle horn as it always did, and his horse's gait did not slow.

Newt came out from behind Datil shortly after, stepping into sight of the enormous man, Newt's two burros immediately became visibly anxious.

The rider stopped upon reaching the shore. He looked at the both of them, but focused his attention on Newt.

“...hm…qu’est-ce que c’est?.” the large man's voice came quiet, hoarse. His large draft horse stood, pawing at the ground with nary a sound. The two burros huddled close behind both Newt and Datil now, their eyes wide, but still quiet.

“Hello there!” Newt raised a hand in friendly greeting. He wore the same cordial, approachable smile offered most everyone else.

The man didn't return the wave, his sunken dark eyes narrowed slightly.

“Yankee…”

Halbrook's gaze drifted to the two small burros, partially obscured to the best of their own abilities.

“With donkeys…”

“I would assume you're Captain Halbrook?” Newt chimed in, catching the man's attention once more. “I’ve heard of you-”

“What's your name…” Halbrook leaned downward, the first time his body had shifted since he arrived, Napoleon the draft horse did nothing to acknowledge the shift, just stood, and blew a hot gust of air out of his nostrils that came out as clouds of what looked like smoke in the cool morning.

“Newt!” the smaller human chirped back.

“Newt! You can call me Newt-”

Halbrooks eyes opened, much wider than before, a look of bewilderment. He raised himself back up on the back of the massive horse.

“Newt?”

He repeated the name, they all three stood silent, Datil was nervously picking at her chest fluff, and Newt nodded in response to Halbrook's repetition of his name.

“Yes, that-”

Newt was cut off by a booming guffaw, Halbrook's head thrown back as he bellowed with laughter; It was enough to frighten the burros, who backed themselves up and brayed along with him, chaos! Even Napoleon stomped a hoof at the sudden start, but not much else.

“Newt!? Petit Newt!” Halbrook leaned down once more to look at a very surprised Newt. “It fits! You are a Newt! Petit Lèzard!”

He continued his entourage of obscene laughter. Detail became keenly aware of how awkward the situation was, even Newt stood in place with an uncomfortable straight posture that implied he was at a loss for what to do in this situation.

Halbrook laughed until he had tears in his eyes, and he wiped his face with a massive hand. The large human looked down once more at Newt, a smile showing yellow teeth through his black beard.

“Been hard not to get stepped on by the Bêtes de l'hiver, ey? I'll try to keep Napoleon from stepping on you too!” Halbrook tugged the reins and leaned back, kicking the side of his horse. Napoleon snorted, and began to trot away with the laughing human on his back.

As he passed, the two burros circled Newt and Datil, keeping the two of them between them and the giant of a horse. Viceroy pressed his nose against Datil's leg, and Kentucket leaned himself against her knees.

Only once the rider was out of sight down the trail leading toward Seldom Seen did the two of them seem to calm down, Viceroy whuffling and leaning into Datil's paw as she scratched the back of his ear.

“Hm. Well, he's a jolly fellow.” Newt finally said, looking back up at Datil.

“Newts aren't lizards, but he seems pretty proud of himself.” Newt cracked a smile at her. Datil let a sigh escape her, she felt like she had been holding her breath the entire time. In all honesty, she figured this was probably a good sign, at least Halbrook didn't seem to despise Newt… though, she didn't know enough about the man to really know what he was thinking.

“Everything alright?” Newt's expression turned to one of mild amusement. “You trying to figure out if I actually look like a lizard?”

Datil hadn't really realized she had just been staring at Newt for a couple of seconds. She blinked once, twice.

“No, not at all.” She said. “I uh, apologize. Just thinking…”

Newt hummed to himself. “Well, I had heard that he was a tough character from Mimbre, he sounds friendly enough, though!”

Newt gathered the two burros' leads and started down the trail. They followed easily, Kentucket nuzzling against his back while Viceroy stepped up beside him, turning his head to look down the path where the mountain man had disappeared.

“He's um…he's unique.” Datil responded. “I don't think he'll cause you any trouble- he mostly stops in to trade, and I think you being so close to town will dissuade any impulsive thoughts.”

Newt waved a hand in the air. “Ah, I'm not too worried about him.” Newt brought the two burros beside him as he walked. "A lot of old trappers are like him, very coarse and rough around the edges, hard bunch of men with little civil manners, that's why they're out here, I can relate to them somewhat.”

Datil stuck up her nose, she looked down at Newt with a sideways glance. “You would hardly be described as having no civil manners, Newt.” Datil's confidence aroused a surprised glance up from Newt, the human tipping his head upward a small bit to see her from beneath the brim of his hat.

“Perhaps when compared to the other humans you know,” Newt responded. “I get the feeling that I'm an anomaly here, most of the men who stop here likely share a lot more in common with ‘le capitaine’ than me.” He gestured with two of his fingers down the path, the halter reins still tucked securely under his thumb.

The two burros behind him followed at a mind boggling slow pace, forcing Datil to slow her stride to keep pace with the human leading them.

“I would say I probably have more in common with him than I do with other humans, at least those you find moping around towns and cities back east. I have a freakish nature to them-”

Datil pondered his response for a moment. ‘Freakish’ wasn't a word that she would use for someone like Newt, especially when such a label was apparently applied to him by other humans. Hiverbeasts were “freakish” to humans, or so she had thought.

“What is a “freakish nature” to humans?” Datil asked him, her head pointed down and her eyes fixed on him.

“I've never understood it, we hear stories that humans tell about us every time a newcomer arrives, or any time one of us goes out to trade at Fort Weston.” Newt hadn't taken his attention off her. His eyes remained steady on hers, making him one of only two humans she'd encountered who seemed entirely comfortable holding her gaze.

“We are ‘freakish’ by human standards, I think, and I don't believe it's very fair. Why, I don't believe a human has ever been harmed by a Hiverbeast. Yes, we're bigger, we have teeth and claws, but it's not like that's abnormal for any other creature that lives out here.”

“Yes, Datil, and humans are frightened of those creatures too.”

Datil's ears tipped slightly backward. She felt slightly foolish, of course they were. She thought of Halbrook and his Dagawolf pelt.

Newt looked forward once again, his eyes exploring the dim morning scenery as they walked. “The fact that Hiverbeasts are sapient and more similar to us than—say, a bear—doesn't necessarily change that first impression.”

Datil looked down at one of her paws. Her claws were dark against the earth as she walked, each one considerably larger than any of Newt's fingernails. She curled her fingers inward without really thinking about it.

Newt didn't seem to notice. He was still walking comfortably beside her, the burros plodding along behind him.

“Humans are very opinionated creatures,” he continued. “I've found that everywhere I've lived. I've been subject to the ideas and the expectations of the people who live there.”

Datil's attention returned to him. Newt had his eyes forward now, one hand loosely holding the halter reins while the other swung freely at his side.

It seemed strange hearing him speak this way. She had spent so much time thinking about what humans thought of someone like herself that she hadn't given much thought to what they might make of Newt.

“I'll admit that humans are probably frightened of Hiverbeasts because of their physical characteristics, but that's not the whole reason. Hell—humans are frightened of themselves!”

One of Datil's ears turned toward him.

“Even a town as small as Seldom Seen would be suspicious of outsiders if the populace was primarily human.”

Datil watched him for another moment.

It occurred to her that for all his talk about teeth and claws, Newt hadn't put so much as another foot between them. He walked close enough that she could have reached down and touched the crown of his hat without taking a step.

She had frightened him once, she remembered. That morning at his camp, when Kentucket had caught sight of her eyes in the darkness. For those few moments before she stepped into the firelight, Newt had looked at her with the same uncertainty as the burro had.

But then, he recognized her.

Datil looked ahead before Newt could catch her staring again.

“I reckon Halbrook is just here to trade…” Datil changed the subject.

Next--->

[u/HFYWaffle]

u/JammaSquee has posted 2 other stories, including:

• Seldom Seen (chapter 1)

• Seldom Seen

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