Tolvin's Tale

**Similar to Lance's Voice, this book was initially written before I had determined the 3rd gender pronouns, therefore the keptisch (3rd gender) is referred to by the gender of the pre-shed child rather than ker(him/her) or ke(he/she). If I ever get these published, that will be a fun process to fix :)**
**Also note that grammer is not my strong suite, and this is raw material. Commas ARE in the wrong places. If you want to offer free editing services because it bothers you too much, I am more than willing to take you up on it.**

Prologue – Clandestine Meeting

I was reading today through the annals of our people’s history and I couldn’t help but notice the barbarism displayed by our ancestors. All at once my mind opened to the question: Why was cannibalism so accepted? Science has proven the need in our systems for living flesh now and again, and we have plenty of options to choose from, but is there something about the darkin flesh that suits us more? Something that we crave? Why did we start? Why did we stop? Did the civilization process rob us of something we used to have? Would we be all that much better if we turned to eating each other again? As ghastly as the idea is, the scientist in me cannot help but ask it.

                 - Journal of the Scientist Alcapenisch

Tolvinicupisch watched avidly from the edge of the birthing house as Krim, his ischtera parent, gripped the newborn’s head. Generally, the unshed child wasn’t even allowed into the corral, but today was an exception. Between this and the criminait birth a few days before, Tolvin felt like he was finally being included.

Birth was a gory process to watch. This one, in particular, combined the coppery tinge of human blood and the stench of excrement. Tolvin held his breath while he watched the bobbing head of the newest member in their herd. The ten-year-old darkin child no longer wondered at his keptisch parent’s hesitation in helping, but looking away from his first chance was not an option.

Krim gently pulled in sync with the human’s contraction, ignoring her groans of agony. The human female stopped pushing as she panted. Her hair matted to her head with sweat. As if she could somehow avoid the agony, the human looked at her Darkin herd-keeper pleadingly but Krim shook her head. “Push.”

Humans understood very little, but this woman had been through four pregnancies, she knew what she should do, even if she was unwilling. With considerable effort, she began again, groaning anew with each spasm of her muscles. The infant pushed out, then retracted several times before Krim could finally get a grip on the bloody mass. When the shoulders appeared through the opening, Tolvin’s mother slipped her long fingers inside and found purchase underneath its arms. She was patient. That’s why Larl, her dominant, insisted that she birth the new herd members. He didn’t have the patience to wait for their contractions. He would rather rip the mother open and take the child, then patch her up with the healing portal designed for that very purpose. It wasn’t feasible due to costs, however, and so he relied on Krim’s expertise. They saved their rare healing portal for only the worst cases.

Krim made a humming trill in her throat and Tolvin watched in fascination as the human female smiled and relaxed just slightly. The shoulders came free with a sickening squish and a new wave of matter as the baby rushed out. Its mother dropped back, panting, eyes closed.

Tolvin looked from the red and purple mass to its mother and then to his ischtera. Was it over? Krim turned the infant upside down swatting it twice until it screeched in angry rage before turning to hand it to a waiting farmhand. The helper quickly wrapped the infant in an old rag and carried it into the livestock healing room. When he returned a few minutes later, the tiny baby was clean and cooing softly.

Tolvin had heard that human skin was delicate at this stage. From what Juit, a friend from several farms over, said the babies could die of exposure if they weren’t properly covered for at least the first little while. Tolvin was fascinated by the idea. The very biology of these creatures fascinated him.

The human still lay in her filth. She probably would have dropped to sleep right where she was but Krim would have none of that. The darkin ishtera swatted the human repeatedly until she moved out of the way so that the area could be cleaned. Meanwhile, a farm hand tried to give the small bundle to its mother, but the human wanted nothing to do with it; she only took it after Krim threatened to hit her again.

Disgruntled, the human female dropped to the ground and held the tiny baby casually. Even Tolvin could see that she already rejected it. The young darkin, though unshed, had enough experience to recognize the human’s facial expression as she turned her nose up. “What’s wrong with it?”

Krim took in the woman’s posture with another growl, “Nothing. She’s obstinate. This is her fourth birth and she continues to reject the offspring each time.”

“Will it die, ischhip?” Tolvin looked toward his mother pleadingly, seeking for some solution that his immature mind couldn’t grasp.

His ischhip shook her head. “We paid to bring in an outside male this time. We thought she just objected to the father, but apparently, that’s not the case. We’ll have to hand it off to Livia.” She turned her attention to her child, “Go and fetch that one and bring her back here.”

“How will I know which it is?”

“She gave birth last week; she should have a child about the same size as this one. I think she usually sleeps out past the far trees.”

Nodding, the small darkin dropped from his position atop a stack of crates and took off at a dead sprint toward the far side. As his mother predicted, he found the female curled around her newborn, sleeping peacefully.

Tolvin kicked at her foot. “Up.”

Her eyes opened in shock and quickly shifted to fear. She moved first to her knees, then gathered up the baby into her arms ignoring his protests. She wore layers of rags; each representing a year of her time here. The winters were just harsh enough to require some sort of covering for the humans, although they were much more tolerant to weather than their keepers. Still, the sickly creatures tended to hoard these blankets over time, creating a sort of covering for themselves. Some even went so far as to rudimentarily sew them together; that was not the case with Livia. This one was bone thin, though it was only obvious in her face. The number of layers, matted together with mud and grime, suggested she was nearing her time to head to the slaughterhouse. Tolvin gestured and the woman followed as he crossed back to the birthing area. As soon as they were within sight of it, she seemed to understand. Her quiet protests ended in her dropping to her knees near the mouth of the birthing house, gesturing avidly to her own tiny baby.

Krim ignored her. The darkin ishtera picked up the newly delivered child from its mother’s limp arms and handed it off to its new surrogate. Livia accepted the new infant gingerly, juggling the two newborns for a moment before allowing the newest one to latch on. As if her own child could feel the unfairness of the situation, he woke with a guttural sound and began seeking instantly for his own teat to nurse on. The new mother looked down at the two with a worried but resigned expression then back up toward Krim.

Krim watched for a moment before waving a dismissive hand. Tolvin saw the human slink back into the night and wondered again if the newborn would be alright. The newest addition was a male, that much he had seen, but it had looked so small and thin. It was easy to think that he might not survive. “Will she care for it?”

Krim nodded, “Most likely. She’s a good mother. She’s raised about half a dozen so far, she knows how to do it.”

The boy’s eyes shifted back to the real mother. She didn’t seem bothered by the loss; that must be a human thing. Tolvin couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not have a bond. He still remembered his own time in Krim’s womb although it was vague and dream-like. As ishtera, Krim carried him for most of the gestation, she spoke to him often, lovingly, as he grew. During his brief transfer into his keptisch parent’s body, Panit’s easy laugh was a regular staple of the unborn infant’s day. Tolvin could remember the deep sounding rumble of his domhip, Larl’s, through the pouch walls too. When Tolvin finally emerged, he already knew and loved each of his parents.

That seemed to be the great dividing line between darkin and animals. The family bond went beyond mere instinct; much too strong to ignore for intelligent creatures.

Krim rolled up the last of the mats and gathered the blood-soaked towels. Kicking the human female lightly, she gestured for her to head into the healing area so they could clean her up and then the entire group disappeared from sight. Tolvin remained where he was next to the fence. He wasn’t afraid to be by himself. Their farm had only one human male and he was penned separately from the females. Every now and then a human female would become aggressive and be separated as well, but right now the entire herd was docile. They had a good crop this year.

Exhausted, the child finally moved back toward the house. Now that the excitement was over, he could feel the weight of the hour. Tonight should have been his weekly sleep night, but he had begged and pleaded for his parents to allow him in on the birthing and his domhip had finally agreed. The young Darkin was glad he’d been able to attend. The human birth had been very different from that of a newborn Crimanit. As intimidating as the sheer size of the Crimanit were, watching the gentle way the mother nurtured her young after the new baby emerged was still amazing. The crimanit mother was nothing like what he had just seen. She immediately began to lick and nuzzle her newborn, gently prodding as it pushed up to its hooved feet. The mother was one of their best work animals and Tolvin’s domhip had aspirations for the Crimanit’s purebred offspring. Just as Larl oversaw the business as a whole, Krim managed the herds and Panit managed the milk and meat processing. When Panit expressed a desire to try his hand at making cheese, Larl bent over backwards to make it happen.

Crimanit cheese was said to be easy to make, but hard to master and the keptisch was determined to master it. They didn’t really need the extra income. There was plenty of money in raising the human food source; a guaranteed income stream because everyone needed blood meals no matter how poor or rich they were. Humans provided the most complete nourishment, therefore the market for human meat remained strong no matter the economy. Tolvin’s dominant father, however, was not satisfied with only that. He constantly wanted to improve their situation and their life.

Krim, Larl, and Panit had each come from poor households. Their parents were miners and laborers, but all three wanted something more. When the ishtera and keptish agreed to create a union with him, Larl promised that he would do everything in his power to bring the three out of poverty and so far he seemed to be fulfilling his promise. They had started with three castoff humans, unwanted by their previous herder, and had nursed the three back to health. It helped that one was male. In addition to studding out the male and breeding their own females, Larl also worked heavily with Krim in bringing the portal technology to their area. A decade of saving resulted in a busted healing portal that took another year to repair, but that was when they began to see the reward for their efforts. Their area, globally the laughingstock of the farming industry, suddenly started to thrive.

Being able to heal livestock meant less loss and less disease spreading. Almost immediately, the profitability of all of their neighbors increased and Larl reaped the majority of the benefits. In their thirty years of marriage, the trio had gone from zero, to expanding at unprecedented rates. A herd of well-bred Crimanits would soon combine with their herd of humans and give them a near monopoly in both markets.

Tolvin dropped to sleep with a smile, and woke excited.

One glance outside into the early light of day showed the herd of human females coating the top of the feeding container like a second roof. The small Darkin watched the frenzy from his window for a few moments, then hurried to dress and eat so he could check on the babies.

The first, the Crimanit, was doing well. He was four days old now and already running with his mother across the open field. As she slowed to eat her fill from the plain’s grasses, he nuzzled in to get his own fill of milk. Satisfied, the darkin child turned his attention to the next coral.

Spotting the surrogate mother was difficult, since their farm generally had at least four dozen newborns at any given time, and when he found her, it was only by luck. The female carried only one baby. A small bundle of rags piled near her tree shifted just slightly. Tolvin gasped in surprise as he ducked through the corral’s crossbeams. Picking it up carefully, he turned and made his way through the mess of bodies to the surrogate’s side.

“Take it.”

The female looked down at him curiously, then noticed the small baby and made a disgusted face. Huffing, she tried to turn away, but Tolvin grabbed onto her arm. Even at ten his small body was stronger than any of these females. Again he shoved the small bundle toward her, “Take it!”

The female looked at the boy with wide eyes and then pointed to her own child and grabbed a large handful of food with her free hand. Stuffing it in her mouth, she turned again pleadingly. Tolvin understood. She couldn’t eat while trying to hold both babies. Grunting, he nodded and waved for her to continue. The darkin child couldn’t help but feel that the human was trying to avoid her responsibility to the new baby so he watched her like a hawk.

“Tolvin!” Krim’s voice was hard and irritated. “What are you doing with that thing?”

Tolvin spun to face her. “I saw it lying out in the grass so I thought the surrogate had abandoned it. I brought it over here so she could take it back when she’s done eating.”

“Put it down now.” She glared toward her child in annoyance, “They’re dirty and they bond to their caregivers. The last thing you want is to have it bond with you because then it won’t eat from its mother anymore.”

Looking down at the tiny creature in alarm, Tolvin carefully set it down and scampered away. The baby immediately began a forlorn mew that pulled at him but Krim’s hand was firm on his shoulder. “You have chores to attend to.”

Nodding, Tolvin disappeared into the barn. His nose twisted at the smell of ofal and urine. Blocking his sensitive nose with a filter, the child grabbed up the nearest pusher and began moving the matted piles toward the drain. Within an hour he was racking his tools before moving on. The next chore was milking their old Crimanit. She was a hardy beast who waited patiently for the child to do his duty before wandering back out into the fields. She also produced almost double what any other Crimanit milking beast provided according to the output of the other herders in their neighborhood. She was the reason Larl and Panit had moved forward with their dream. Their second Crimanit, the new mother, was from the same genetic lines and already promised to rival her grandmother in milk production. Grimly, the boy lifted the eighty-pound containers one at a time and carried them the distance to the distillery.

Panit saw Tolvin coming and the keptisch hurried to take the heavy containers from him. With each one, Tolvin’s kephip smiled wide and thanked the boy. “One day you’ll grow big and strong like your domhip. I can’t wait to see what you become when you’ve grown.”

Tolvin smiled sheepishly. “I hope I get to be like all three of you.”

Panit grinned again and waved him toward the large building that housed their family and farm hands. As Tolvin walked past the human corral, he heard a weak mew that drew his attention to the rags. They still lay where he had left them hours before. Alarmed, the darkin child turned to find the surrogate but she was back under her tree again sleeping out the hot afternoon.

Looking around to verify no one was watching, Tolvin slipped into the corral and scooped up the infant. Carefully he tucked the child into the surrogate’s arms pushing the other sleeping newborn out of the way and nuzzling the new baby into the surrogate’s chest. The tiny male sensed the warmth of her body and searched until he found food. Tolvin watched happily for a moment before resuming the rest of his morning.

He didn’t pass by the corral again until later that evening. When he did, he stopped in annoyance. The new baby was once again lying by itself. This time it had obviously been placed apart. What was worse, its location near the main path of the herd was the perfect excuse for the tiny creature to be trampled as soon as the call for dinner came. No one else seemed to care; none of the other females seemed to notice its pitiful cries. Tolvin stalked angrily toward the healing barn. The human surrogate happened to look up as he passed and caught his expression. She hurried to scoop up the extra infant, then looked again to see if she had avoided danger.

Tolvin glared at her before disappearing into the barn. “Ischtera!”

Krim looked up from her work in surprise. “What is it?”

“That surrogate keeps leaving the baby alone. This time, she put it where it would get walked on.”

Krim rolled her eyes dismissively. “Tolvin, worry about your own chores. This happens sometimes. If the baby has been rejected, then it will most likely die. I can try giving it to another surrogate, but humans are a little odd. Once a baby has been rejected by more than one mother it’s as if they have some instinctual drive to push it out completely.”

“So it’s gunna die?” The child’s ten-year-old face looked up in shock. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

Again, she shook her head. “Of course we could do something, but it’s not worth it.” She paused in her work to consider him. “Tolvin, you’ve seen this kind of thing before. Every year we have to get rid of one or two babies that just fail to thrive. It’s just part of the job. This baby was scrawny anyway. Its mother was trying to starve it to death inside of her. It didn’t have high chances of survival to begin with and we can’t put it through the portal until it’s at least five or it messes up the entire chemistry of the meat.”

Tolvin watched her as his thoughts churned. “Can I have it?”

Krim’s mouth dropped into a disapproving frown. “You have enough to keep yourself busy. Don’t fret over one little infant.”

The child’s voice became cajoling. “I promise to take care of it, and I’ll keep it out of the way. Even if I kill it, it won’t matter, right?”

His Ischtera sighed and went silent for a moment. Tolvin recognized the distance in her eyes; a dead giveaway that she was having a mental discussion with her partners. When she came back to herself, she scowled. “You don’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby. What can it eat?”

Tolvin pursed his lips biting down with the sharp point of his front teeth. “Fruit?”

This time she laughed. “Baby, Tolvin, think baby.”

Tolvin pictured his own little sister. She had spent the first year nursing. “Milk. Can it have Crimanit milk?”

“Yes, but don’t waste it.”

With a happy crow, the child jumped in a victory circle then left the barn at high speed. As he approached the female, she pulled away fearfully. Tolvin didn’t bother trying to explain anything, he simply took the child and walked away.