Life Under the Fangs (Song of Len the Wanderer, 2024 edition, Snippet 2)
Life Under the Fangs (Song of Len the Wanderer, 2024 edition, Snippet 2)
A lighter sort of story fragment from the Dustsong Cycle
(Read Song of Len the Wanderer, Snippet 1)
Mother, wearing her oak-leaf tunic, sat on a stool at their squat-legged kitchen table. She was adding herbs to a bowl of mashed roots. Several small pots were already filled with greens. Sure enough, a platter of cakes rested at her elbow.
“Almost ready, boys. Wash up, Mother told Len and Sceg.
Len’s little brother scurried to the water basin near the kitchen window. Mother turned her attention back to getting supper ready. Instead of washing his hands, Len slunk to the sitting room, where Father rested on his worn-out mat. The boys had painted all kinds of colorful critters and plants on it.
Father almost always looked out of the sitting-room window this time of day and watched the sun set through the trees. His expression now was thoughtful, like Sceg’s pondering look. Len’s father and brother resembled each other in many a way. Right down to their ruddy-brown toes.
“You’ve been roaming too far,” Mother commented from the kitchen. “What am I supposed to do if you cross paths with a wolf or a jackal out there on your lonesome?”
Be glad Sceg didn’t get eaten, too. Len plopped down on the plain mat of brown and yellow fibers he’d woven himself.
“Easy, Lae,” Father drawled. “Len’s so shaggy, a wolf would probably mistake him for its cub.”
“Don’t humor him, Ghrem.”
Father looked like he was choosing his next words carefully. “From now on, little wanderer,” he said at last, “mind you let me or your mother know where you’re off to.”
Len grunted. He would probably forget, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue.
Sceg joined them. His mat was falling apart from all the times Mother had tried to scrub the critter smells out of it. “Father, guess what? I’ve got a new pet!”
“What is it named, mate?
“It’s called a bighorn. That’s its name.”
Father looked a question at Len, who mouthed “sheep” behind Sceg’s back. Len mimicked the critter’s curled horns with his fingers.
Father nodded and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I reckon that’s a fine name. Maybe I should have thought of it myself.” Sceg beamed. Len rolled his eyes.
“Tell us about some of the beasts you’ve named,” Sceg begged Father. “What was the funniest-looking one?”
Len curled his lip and snorted lightly. “You’re always wanting to talk about that stuff,” he teased.
“Well,” Sceg said, a bit huffy for once, “what would you talk about?”
Len thought a moment. He hated being put on the spot, so he asked the first question that popped into his head. “Does the Wright have growing things, and critters, up where he lives? In the sky-realm?”
Father blinked in surprise. “Well, now,” he replied slowly. “That’s quite a thing to ask. I can’t say I rightly know. But if the Wright ever invites you up there, how about you find out for yourself. Then come back and tell me.”
“Okay,” Len said, disappointed. That wasn’t really an answer.
Father turned his attention back to Sceg. “But as for the strangest critter I ever named, I may recall…”
Len left them talking and snuck over to the kitchen. Mother had supper almost ready. She set a crock of thornapple paste beside the platter of cakes and noticed his interest.
“Wash,” she ordered. This time he obeyed. Then he swiped a cake and perched on his stool to the side of the table. He took a big bite and chewed slowly. Without the thornapple dressing, the cake didn’t have much taste. But he liked its soft, crumbly texture.
“You’ve got a storm brewing in that head of yours,” Mother said. “What’s amiss?”
“Sceg and Father are always going on about critters.” Except for the two-legged sort of critters, like me. That wasn’t the only thing bothering Len, but it was all he could put into words. He played with the handle of the digging stone stuck in his belt.
“What would you rather talk about?” Mother asked.
Len tried not to be annoyed that she’d repeated Sceg’s exact question. Instead, he gazed out the kitchen window. “Other places I’ve never been,” he said, “like the land at the bottom of the Fangs. And about green things. Different kinds of trees and shrubs and such.” I reckon I’d find all kinds of interesting stuff growing outside our hollow.
“Your father knows plenty about plants and trees,” his mother suggested.
“No,” Len said quickly. “I don’t mean gathering plants wild from the woods and meadows and slopes, the way he does. I want to grow them in one spot, in gardens. So I can look at them and pick them for eating whenever I please.”
Mother wore a strange expression. “What’s the matter?” Len asked her.
She replied in a quiet voice, with a half-hearted smile. “I know a place you’d have liked, that’s all.”
Len decided to change the subject. “I want to know more about the Wright, too. Does he ever come visit our realm?”
Now Mother’s face was downright troubled. I’m sorry I asked. But he munched his cake in patient silence.
Right as Len swallowed the last of the cake, Mother answered his question. “He used to. But folks made mistakes—” The word mistakes came out funny. “So now he doesn’t come around.” She sat back on her stool and called the others. “Supper’s ready!”
Crumbs had stuck in Len’s throat. He grabbed a chipped cup off the table and fetched one of the water pouches hanging on the wall. “I’m not going to make mistakes,” he declared after filling his cup and taking a gulp.
Mother almost said something else. Instead, she and Father traded looks Len didn’t understand as Father walked to the wash basin. What’s that about?
Sceg stepped away from the basin and shook the water off his hands. With a mischievous grin and a chuckle, he told Len, “Your face is a mistake.”
Before either of the grown folk could object, Len flung his empty cup onto the table and began chasing his brother around the kitchen.
“Take it outside!” Father shouted.
Squealing like a squeaker-pig, Sceg bolted out the doorway. Len was right behind him.
“And then wash up again!” Mother yelled after the boys.
Len tackled his brother five steps from the cottage. They lay all a-tangle and laughing in the gloomy twilight. The sheep watched from the shadows, without comment. All things considered, life under the sun, and under the Fangs, was good.
Note from the Author
Our household has been under the weather, so for this week, I’ve decided to share two Legends snippets with all paid subscribers in lieu of a Delfii snippet. This is one of the snippets; the other will come in a day or two. I want y’all to see how Legends snippets will differ from Songs snippets when we get to the darker stuff.
Digging into an already-published manuscript got painful with this snippet (adapted from the second half of Dustsong: Len the Wanderer, Chapter One). I knew in revisiting the novella after a few months, under much less duress, I would find little words and phrases I could have edited better. But ouch—a couple of redundant phrasings I found this time made me wince. My editing and publishing process for future books won’t be so hurried, for certain sure. One day, I also aim to publish a newly revised edition of Len’s story as part of a single volume with Kaelii’s and Egwae’s.
In the meantime, drafting The Legend of Len the Wanderer feels like a first chance to write the story even better—in addition to reining in some of the lengthier phrasing, more obscure words, and more vivid depictions of violence.
For this coming week, we’ll recommence with a Delfii snippet for basic paid and complimentary subscribers. Founder-level paid subscribers will also get two Legends snippets per week.
What I’ve Been Watching
To inspire my efforts at creating a kid-friendly version of the Vaporous Realms, I rewatched the (twenty-first-century) movie adaptation of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I’m glad I did. Lewis’s characters are perfectly memorable, and the story holds its luster after many a read- or watch-through. There’s something to be said for getting back to basics, and the Chronicles of Narnia are the basics. I’m about three decades overdue for a complete reread of the series. The baby hobbits had better brace themselves.
As ever, thanks for reading!