Gawion lay on his stomach and looked down into the hole, rubbing his arm where the wooden foot had grazed it. A numbing tingle spread from his shoulder to his fingertips. Beyond a doubt, those long pretend feet contained other materials than wood.
A human child, a baby, younger than Liel, peered up at him, without swooning or shrieking. It smiled. Had it said “barbegazi”? Was this a trap? The elf hunters of his daymares were grown and menacing, nothing like this.
He jumped up, sniffing and scanning the surroundings, but found nothing except a faint whiff of metal from the sticks in its hand and those unnatural feet.
“Help me, barbegazi! Please!” it screamed.
Good. It sounded frightened, and it was trapped. Gawion shoved his toes into the snow as anchors, lay down again, and stared at the human.
He had never observed a conscious one up close before. Two funny plaited beards poked out from under the raspberry-like shell on its head. The tree-trunk-coloured plaits hung under its ears, not, as beards normally did, under the nose. Did these side-beards have any special function?
“Please help me,” the human said. Eyes the colour of ragged peaks stared up at him, while springs flowed from them and dripped onto the floor.
If Maeg was imprisoned somewhere, perhaps an exchange could take place. If he found Maeg and her abductor… Perhaps Papa could guard this human while he searched the village? But, no, that might take too long. It would catch its death in the cold. Bringing it home was no solution either—the glacier block cooled the cave, not to mention Maman’s reaction.
“Please, barbegazi.”
Should he help it out? No others would travel this route so late. Without an avalanche, a search party’s appearance was very unlikely. The reckless creature was alone. And it had nothing to do with Maeg’s disappearance, or he would have caught a trace of his sister’s thawing-spring-snow scent.
The streams from the human’s eyes dried up. Its mouth, unhidden by a beard or fur, formed a tilted new moon, exposing single rows of odd, square teeth. It looked so friendly.
“Have you brought the berry gift?” The words, spoken in the human tongue, flew out of his mouth. He wanted to stuff his whole beard down his throat to stop them.
“Berry gift? What’s that?”
Oh, why had he spoken? This was not the right human. Gawion withdrew from the rim.
“Hey! Come back.” The voice turned panicky again. “Please, barbegazi! I… I need your help. I won’t tell anyone.”
Humans were deceptive. He mistrusted it, but he had to help. That was what they did, when they found living humans buried in the snow. After marching ten paces away from the hole, he began shovelling with his enormous feet. The top layer of snow was light and fluffy powder, and the soundless digging required no effort. The cries of help behind him continued. When his claws hit a crusty layer of old snow, the scraping drowned out the screams. He took a moment to savour the chill and harvest an icy lump to suck on. Then his feet let loose again, cutting a horizontal tunnel.
Just before he broke through the thin snow wall, he paused to prepare himself. The shell on this one’s fragile head troubled him, and he had not rescued anyone conscious in a long time. After considering the size of this human, he revised Papa’s lessons about their anatomy and the best walloping spots.
Gawion shot out of the tunnel. Swirling in the air, he oriented himself towards it, his walloping arm outstretched.
“Tha—” The impact cut off its voice, and it sank to the ground, lifeless as an aestivating barbegazi.
Yes! Gawion pumped his fist in triumph. Now he just had to get rid of it, and prevent it from ever returning.