Fic: Arc (cont.)
Short but significant one today
“Hello little cubs,” Marty said to the hundred or so eyes staring at him. “This all very complicated, but it is very important that you listen to me and do as I say…”
He kept his voice soft and non-threatening as he spoke and the wide-eyed cubs listened. How could he ever be threatening? Whitepelt wondered. But somehow she knew that at one brief point in his life he must have been, for why else would have they brought the Varn Dream Stalker to personally break him?
Yes, dangerous. He threatens the cubs with his lying words.
“…and so you’ll be going with your parents,” Marty concluded. He touched one male cub, perhaps six-years old with a roan pelt, on the cheek. “What’s your name, little one?”
“Name?” the cub repeated.
“We don’t get a designation until we’re ready for specialization training,” Whitepelt provided. She kneeled down in front of the cub. “What’s your ident number?”
“Creche One, number hun’red and eleven,” the cub said.
“We’ll call you Redpelt then,” Marty said. “Now go your father Redpelt, and stay close to him.”
“Father?” the cub repeated in confusion.
“That fellow right there,” Marty told him, pointing to where Black D2 stood, supported by two of his co-rioters on heavily bandaged footpads. Redpelt looked at Marty with suspicion, then at an encouraging from the strange vulpine in the chair, cautiously approached Black D2, who kneeled down in front of the child.
“You look like Red,” he said, his eyes wide, reaching out with one hand to gently stroke the cub’s cheek.
“Who’s Red?” the cub asked.
“She was your mother,” Black D2 managed to choke out, before breaking down into sobs and clutching Redpelt to his chest.
* * *
Testimony of Deesix Whitepelt as presented to the Galactic Sapiens Alliance Truth and Reconciliation Committee, cont.
So then Marty went to each cub in the crèche, and pointed out who their parents were. Some got lucky and had two parents. Quite a few weren’t, with only one, or none, because of me mostly. The orphans he handed over to vulps who hadn’t born or sired children. Everyone of them was given to someone though, a mother or a father or both. Over a thousand cubs were given parents that day, when before they would have had none. “Marturari’s Miracle,” they called it later. Proof the Holy Den Mother was working through him.
Damned if I know if the Den Mother was guiding him or he was just a crazy psychic. All I know is that when gene matched the cubs to the parents after the war, the results were a 85% match. You tell me how he did it, huh?
“Hello little cubs,” Marty said to the hundred or so eyes staring at him. “This all very complicated, but it is very important that you listen to me and do as I say…”
He kept his voice soft and non-threatening as he spoke and the wide-eyed cubs listened. How could he ever be threatening? Whitepelt wondered. But somehow she knew that at one brief point in his life he must have been, for why else would have they brought the Varn Dream Stalker to personally break him?
Yes, dangerous. He threatens the cubs with his lying words.
“…and so you’ll be going with your parents,” Marty concluded. He touched one male cub, perhaps six-years old with a roan pelt, on the cheek. “What’s your name, little one?”
“Name?” the cub repeated.
“We don’t get a designation until we’re ready for specialization training,” Whitepelt provided. She kneeled down in front of the cub. “What’s your ident number?”
“Creche One, number hun’red and eleven,” the cub said.
“We’ll call you Redpelt then,” Marty said. “Now go your father Redpelt, and stay close to him.”
“Father?” the cub repeated in confusion.
“That fellow right there,” Marty told him, pointing to where Black D2 stood, supported by two of his co-rioters on heavily bandaged footpads. Redpelt looked at Marty with suspicion, then at an encouraging from the strange vulpine in the chair, cautiously approached Black D2, who kneeled down in front of the child.
“You look like Red,” he said, his eyes wide, reaching out with one hand to gently stroke the cub’s cheek.
“Who’s Red?” the cub asked.
“She was your mother,” Black D2 managed to choke out, before breaking down into sobs and clutching Redpelt to his chest.
* * *
Testimony of Deesix Whitepelt as presented to the Galactic Sapiens Alliance Truth and Reconciliation Committee, cont.
So then Marty went to each cub in the crèche, and pointed out who their parents were. Some got lucky and had two parents. Quite a few weren’t, with only one, or none, because of me mostly. The orphans he handed over to vulps who hadn’t born or sired children. Everyone of them was given to someone though, a mother or a father or both. Over a thousand cubs were given parents that day, when before they would have had none. “Marturari’s Miracle,” they called it later. Proof the Holy Den Mother was working through him.
Damned if I know if the Den Mother was guiding him or he was just a crazy psychic. All I know is that when gene matched the cubs to the parents after the war, the results were a 85% match. You tell me how he did it, huh?